Chapter 2
Hot Mic
Zara didn’t sleep that night.
The mansion’s guest room was too pristine, too cold, and too fake—like everything else in her life lately. She lay awake listening to the humming cameras outside her door, blinking red like electronic fireflies. Silent. Watching. Always watching.
That hallway moment with Jesse played on a loop in her head.
You looked at me, Zara.
You’re the only part that feels unscripted.
She squeezed her eyes shut.
Dangerous. It was all too dangerous.
—
The next morning, chaos greeted her at the breakfast table.
Producer Victoria Lane—known for her bulletproof smile and a heart made of contract clauses—clapped her hands together as the cast trickled in. “Team meeting in five! Some… exciting narrative pivots coming your way.”
Zara knew what that meant. Someone’s storyline was about to be rewritten.
Her eyes scanned the table.
Romeo was still charming. Still safe.
But Devon, the wildcard contestant, looked rattled.
And Jesse? Nowhere in sight.
“Zara,” Victoria said, placing a manicured hand on her shoulder. “Can I steal you for a sec?”
Never a question. Always a trap.
—
Behind closed doors, Victoria pressed play on a tablet.
Zara’s breath caught.
Her voice played through the speakers. Her voice—and Jesse’s.
You looked at me, Zara.
You’re the only part of it that feels unscripted.
Victoria smiled. “Hot mic. The boom was still rolling when you stepped off-set.”
Zara’s throat dried up. “Delete it.”
“Oh, sweetie. This is gold.” Victoria sat back, eyes gleaming. “America lives for forbidden tension. You? The guarded starlet. Him? The mysterious crew member. Can’t you see the ratings?”
“You want me to pretend to like him?”
Victoria leaned in. “I want you to choose. We can kill the scene and bury the audio. Or… we lean in. Feed the fantasy. Maybe even… let it grow.”
Zara stood. “He’s not part of the show.”
Victoria’s smile never wavered. “Then you’d better make sure the cameras don’t catch you looking at him like he is.”
—
Later that day, Jesse finally appeared—setting up lights for a rooftop date between Zara and Romeo. His jaw clenched when she walked past, but she felt his gaze, heavy as ever.
She stepped too close. On purpose.
“Mic was hot,” she murmured.
His expression didn’t change. “I figured. They called me into the trailer.”
“And?”
“And they gave me a choice: stay away from you—or get transferred to a different crew.”
Zara swallowed hard. “What did you say?”
He finally looked at her.
“I said if they want distance, they’ll have to fire me.”
So
mething fluttered in her chest—fear and something far more dangerous.
Hope.
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