Plotting to Win Read Online Free Page A

view of her rear end as she climbed ahead of him. He could look, just briefly, to his heart’s content, with her none the wiser.
    Or to his dick’s content, as it was certainly forming a hard opinion.
    Every woman with killer curves like hers should wear form-fitting slacks. He’d noticed her from the moment she’d pulled up in the cab. Warm brown eyes, soft curls framing an oval face, pink lips with some kind of shiny gloss. Like he said, he wasn’t here to make friends. But he could look.
    He grasped the bannister as their steps made loud clomping sounds on the wooden stairs. Be hard to sneak out of this place, even if we were allowed.
    Show rules stated they would get all their food, entertainment, and sleep time right here in this loft. Victor didn’t look forward to that part of the show: being confined to one area for so long, but he understood the need to keep the outside world, viewers, fans, and press from getting hints or warnings as to what was happening on the show.
    Then again, maybe being cooped up with the lovely Felicity wouldn’t be too bad, if she stayed as long as he did. He certainly wasn’t going home, not with that badly needed hundred grand at stake. His mother needed it. He couldn’t take care of her anymore, and home healthcare was out of his budget.
    The thought of his mother’s pitiful cries in the night as she woke to realize she’d walked into the living room in her confusion and had mistaken a sofa cushion for the toilet caused his jaw and his resolve both to harden.
    She barely remembered who he was some days. Alzheimer’s coupled with a stroke made her unable to speak now and he couldn’t watch her twenty-four seven. The time had come to admit he had to relinquish some of the responsibilities, but that took money he didn’t have. It had taken a whopper of a loan to provide full-time care while he was on the show.
    In all her years of caring for him, she’d never stopped to take care of herself, never had insurance. It wasn’t until she was hospitalized that he discovered the dire circumstances of his mother’s financial situation. Medicare only covered so much.
    Growing up, his mama had said repeatedly, “Writing, Vic? Writing is not a stable profession. You must have a backup plan.”
    Well, mama, this writing gig is going to take care of you .
    Because Victor Guzman was going to be the next bestseller.
    He had to resist the urge to palm the lovely rear in front of him. Would she slap him? Could he get away with saying, “Oops. Accident. Thought I was going to fall.”?
    Just as the temptation grew too great and his palm too itchy, they reached the top of the stairs and the rear end moved to the right and away from him.
    “Oh no. We have to sleep together?”
    “Where do we change clothes?”
    “I’m hungry. Where’s the kitchen?”
    “Can we order pizza?”
    Victor grinned as he viewed the loft. It appeared to take the entire length of the ‘cave’ but unlike the bottom floor, the top had sloped ceilings. Like the lower area, there were walls dividing the loft into sections, but there was no question they were all, indeed, sleeping together. Directly in front of them was a sitting area consisting of sofas, coffee tables, a small dining set, and a couple of armchairs … more than enough seating for the seven contestants.
    Behind the seating area were two rows of beds, running down the middle of the loft, with walls behind them. Three beds on one side and four on the other. Victor figured a kitchen and a bathroom was in there somewhere, most likely behind closed doors.
    “So, where are we in camera zone?” he asked, hoping his voice carried to the punk girl with the clipboard. She seemed to be the organizer.
    “Okay, ya’ll. I’m only going to explain this once.”
    The chatter immediately piped down as they all waited to hear what she had to say.
    “This is the loft and where you’ll be living when not competing during the next seven weeks. In front of you is