Author's note: I was so excited to see guest reviewer, ilovetvd, on here — welcome back and thanks so much for taking the time to read my latest work!
Warning: A little angst.
"Between the mirror and the heart
is this single difference:
the heart conceals secrets,
while the mirror does not."
— Jalāl al-Dīn Muḥammad Rūmī (Rumi)
The naked golden cherubs were creeping her out. Caroline knew the cameras were zooming in on her face, so she did her best to keep her expression politely benign rather than horrified-yet-amused. She suspected there would be lots of horrified-yet-amused moments over the next two months. Currently, she was riding in the gaudiest horse-drawn carriage she'd ever seen, with ivory panels heavily decorated with gold filigree, the floor and pearl-dotted cushions were overflowing with white roses dusted in gold glitter, and the horses wore tall, golden feather plumes.
"Ok, Caroline, that was great, but let's try again and this time pluck a rose from the cushion and give us a softer smile," one of the producers cheerfully called out.
As the crew directed the coachman to bring the carriage back down the cobblestone road, she bit her lip to keep from laughing. She knew there wasn't much reality in reality shows, but she was on her third take and still hadn't seen the mansion where the bulk of the show would be filmed. She was pretty sure the creepy cherubs along the carriage railing were judging her. If the other contestants took this long for their entrances, it'd be Christmas before this stupid show was done.
At least they hadn't wanted her to interact with the horses. She'd gotten thrown as a kid and broke her arm, and had been uneasy around them ever since. Trying to arrange her face in a smile that didn't feel like a toothpaste commercial, she casually selected one of the sparkly roses, mindful of the gold glitter as she pretended she was living out a Disney princess fantasy. Finally, the cobblestone road curved around to a pair of enormous wrought iron gates that swung open as though personally welcoming her to the estate. As the carriage crossed underneath the stone archway, Caroline breathed a sigh of relief, pleased at least this ridiculous part was over.
"Great stuff, Caroline! Ok, we just need to film your journey to the manor from a few more angles."
Fuck her life.
Attempting to gracefully exit a carriage with a bunch of cameras in your face was nearly impossible. Especially when she could see the contestants who'd already made their entrance sizing her up from the enormous picture windows. Taking a shaky breath, she slowly descended the carriage steps with the help of a footman who wore a pretentious top hat and tailcoat and made her feel like the destitute cousin in an Austen novel.
Kol was waiting for her underneath an ornate iron lantern, his silly grin making her smile despite her nervousness. He'd been surprisingly sweet when they met, not to mention his insight and understanding about how overwhelming and insane his world could be to someone who wasn't in the industry. And he said there was a light he could see in her.
As he greeted her with an impish smirk, brushing his lips across her knuckles, Caroline knew she was supposed to feel something. Instead, it felt weird and squishy and horribly staged and she resisted the urge to jerk her hand away. What was wrong with her? After all, he was an attractive celebrity and she was going on this silly show to have fun and maybe even make a connection with him — plus, she'd promised Bonnie she'd at least try.
But he wasn't Klaus. She couldn't deny the rush she felt when they debated art history and the verbal sparring felt...electric. Nope. She batted those traitorous thoughts away. You're supposed to be dating Kol.
"I see you're been struck speechless," Kol said with a roguish wink. "Not to worry — we'll get better acquainted and those pesky butterflies will be gone before you know it."
As Caroline was ushered across the mansion's threshold, she found herself idly wondering what pesticide might taste like.
It was a bloody disaster. Klaus glared around the enormous living space, irritated that the producers hadn't consulted him before making these changes. The welcome party was supposed to be an intimate cocktail soiree, meant to add to the viewers' first impressions of the contestants and Kol's perceived connections to them. Instead, the producers had brought in enough liquor to put even the most depraved of spring breakers to shame.
While some of the contestants were clever enough to bide their time, understanding that perception was the key ingredient to reality television, there were still more than a few who'd forgotten themselves and had invited their friends sloppy drunk, weepy drunk, and angry drunk to the party. A potential concern from a liability standpoint, but they did make for excellent ratings.
Naturally, his younger brother was in the middle of it all, perched on the immense leather sectional with various contestants vying for his attention in the most dramatic of fashions, from draping themselves onto his lap to handfeeding him their cocktail garnishes. And Kol was completely ignoring Caroline. Bloody git.
Caroline, Caroline. Who was on the opposite side of the room, enchanting the others with her sunshine smile and clever anecdotes that must have been quite amusing given the gales of laughter and appreciative glances. She was radiant. From a ratings perspective, that is. The camera loved her. Also, many of the cameramen seemed inordinately fond of pulling her aside to resolve mysterious feedback on her microphone. There was nothing wrong with that bloody microphone. He personally oversaw her daily sound checks. To ensure quality content.
Suddenly, Caroline made a beeline for the alcove where he'd been covertly watching, and Klaus quickly busied himself adjusting the various liquor bottles so that all of the labels properly faced outward.
"None of the cameras seem to be aimed over here. So, you must be adjusting the labels to satisfy some deep-rooted OCD," she said, pouring a glass of water from the glass pitcher tucked away in the back. She quickly reassured, "Hey, no judgement. I'm usually the one rearranging things at the buffet table. Sloppy presentation is one of my pet peeves."
"You're very astute." Nodding at her water, Klaus added, "And clever to mind your consumption. As you can imagine, drunkenness is both a blessing and a curse on reality television. Viewers can be a bit...unforgiving."
With a quirk of her eyebrow, she whispered, "Are you supposed to be giving away your show's secrets like this? My mic is hot, right?"
Hot. Yes. Without his permission, his traitorous gaze dipped down to the delicate curve of her neck, proudly displayed by the classic knot restraining her blonde curls. Bollocks. He realized he'd been staring a bit too long, so he quickly cleared his throat and muttered, "Yes, your microphone is live, but the cameras can't capture this area due to liability concerns."
"Yeah, I'm surprised your insurance allowed all this booze on set," Caroline commented, making a sweeping gesture from the fully stocked floor-to-ceiling bar behind them to the trio of women double-fisting flaming shots, wryly adding, "although I'm sure you guys will get some mileage out of whatever catfights this will start."
An indignant shriek startled both Klaus and Caroline, and they tucked away amused grins as the shrill cursing began.
"Those extensions look expensive," she lazily observed.
"So does that manicure tangled in them." Klaus impulsively added, "A fiver says one drink gets thrown, but accidentally lands on someone else."
Caroline giggled, teasing, "Ooh, big spender, five whole dollars."
"Actually, with the exchange rate, it's a little over six."
She tilted her head, studying him closely until he felt the tips of his ears burn. His fingers twitched as a few blonde tendrils brushed her cheek. "And I bet two drinks get thrown and one of them lands on Kol. But I don't want your money." Tapping her chin with a blush pink nail, she coaxed, "Five video chats per week with Bonnie will be off the record - no cameras."
"Four."
"Three."
"Deal," she eagerly said, shaking his hand as they watched the ridiculous scene unfold. One brunette had a redhead in a headlock, and received a face full of martini. Kol noticed the ruckus and clumsily tried to get off the sectional, and one admirer who'd been lounging so close she practically was wearing his skin, accidentally tossed her drink and it landed squarely on Kol's shirtfront.
"Score," Caroline gleefully boasted to Klaus, giving an adorable little wiggle that was...distracting. Bloody hell, was she doing it on purpose?
"That wasn't quite our agreement," he protested half-heartedly, lips twitching in amusement.
She carelessly shrugged, "You're the big-time Hollywood manager — spotting shady loopholes should be your specialty."
Minx. She was perfect. And far too good for Kol. Klaus inwardly cursed, remembering why she was there. Why he was there. Caroline was a contestant vying for the "prize" of dating his younger brother. She was there because the network agreed she'd be ratings gold with that spirited and clever, girl-next-door appeal. This was business.
Allowing a hint of steel to color his voice, he told her, "Contestants are required to be on camera the majority of their time here; you wouldn't want to violate the contract you signed." Doing his best to ignore the flash of hurt he saw in her gaze, he added, "Also, you should try making a more favorable impression on my brother. The slack-jawed gaping you did when he greeted you at the entrance certainly didn't do you any favors."
Klaus told himself it hadn't burned to watch Kol kiss Caroline's hand at the entrance. Or that he hadn't noticed the moment Kol and Caroline seemed to share where the world fell away and they stared into each other's eyes. Already the producers were arguing over the musical score they'd edit into the scene.
When Caroline turned on her heel without further comment, Klaus congratulated himself on a job well done. He was ensuring the show's profitability and securing his brother's future career opportunities. When Kol intercepted Caroline with a wide smile and ensured she had a place of honor next to him on the sectional, Klaus reminded himself that this was what he wanted.
The show was what mattered.
