Page 6 of Room 710 (The Scarlet Hotel #15)

Ziggy

I wasn’t expecting to have fans. I mean, I’d assumed people would get to know me if I made it past the first week or two, but when I stepped out of the car’s backseat, I heard someone shout, “Whoooo! Ziiiiggyyyyy!” And when I looked over, I was honestly shocked to see that it wasn’t my mom or Levi.

It was, in fact, a total stranger, and they had totally printed up my picture from the website’s bio page and they were waving it around above their head.

“Oh, uh… hi, I guess.” I waved, which just made them open their mouth in a gaping O, emitting a pitch only dogs could hear.

I was stopped briefly by Marty as I made my way up the driveway, dragging my suitcase behind me.

I’d met him briefly at the hotel where we’d been sequestered.

“Any last words?” he asked as he plucked my cell phone from my hand and put it in this wide silver case along with everyone else’s.

I counted the phones already inside and saw I was the sixth contestant to arrive.

Pursing my lips, I thought for a second, then said, “Tell my mom I love her, and if I don’t make it out alive, my friend Levi can have my ‘Hang in There’ kitty poster.”

Marty laughed, his eyes bright. “Truly generous of you. I’ll let them know.” He swung his arm gesturing toward the front door. “Welcome… to Lonely Alpha .”

My suitcase seemed to weigh more than it had an hour ago as I lifted it up the front steps and walked inside.

The door closed behind me with an ominous click that I swore I felt in my chest, and I brought my hand to my sternum and rubbed it absently as I took in the house before me.

It had that bland feel of a show home, though temporarily full of life.

I could just imagine the show becoming a selling point once the house went back on the market.

Ahead of me there was a large open living space, but I could hear voices coming from down a hall to my right, and with a little trepidation, I headed toward them.

It would be fair to say I didn’t make friends easily, never had.

I was blunt, awkward, and not everyone got my sense of humor.

In fact, the only reason I was still friends with Levi was because he had no survival instinct.

We’d met in kindergarten after he stole the red fingerpaint and I punched him in the nose.

Hey, don’t judge me, it’d made sense at the time.

And don’t feel bad for him either, because in return, he’d kicked me in the shin—totally fair, btw—but then he’d burst into tears out of guilt, apologized, and gave me a damn hug.

Some days I felt like he had never let go.

I passed stark white walls, the wheels of my suitcase coasting loudly over the ceramic tiles. I forced my shoulders down, chin up, and stuck my head through the first doorway, where I found three guys unpacking their suitcases.

“Hey, come on in, new roomie,” one of them said, offering me an orthodontically perfect grin, teeth bright against his golden skin, accentuated with a shimmery bronzer. New roomie? Could it really be as easy as that? “Name’s Darnell. This is Alex and Prairie.”

“Ziggy,” I replied quietly, suddenly feeling very out of place.

These guys were gorgeous. Tall. Their expensive clothes fashionable and cut to show off their bodies.

They were the “cool kids” in high school.

I glanced self-consciously down at my faded Star Wars t-shirt that said: “Don’t call me Princess.

” The casting director must’ve made some mistake. I was way out of my league.

“You can have the top bunk if you want,” Prairie said, patting the mattress over the one he’d claimed.

“Sure, thanks.” I didn’t like this feeling of otherness blooming in my chest, so I fell back on a trusted and true method of building confidence—faking it.

“So, what time does the pillow fight start?” I asked, forcing a grin, and the others laughed.

I unzipped my suitcase next to the dresser and picked an empty drawer to use as my own.

“That depends,” Prairie said, reaching over and plucking a certain pair of lacy underwear from the top. “Will you be wearing these?”

I shrugged like I wasn’t embarrassed as hell, though I knew that my cheeks had to be a flaming red to match the manties. “I brought them special for pillow fights and movie nights. You like?”

“Oh, we like,” Darnell said fiercely, grabbing them to take a closer look. “I wonder if they come in gold.” It was the icebreaker we’d needed, and the four of us quickly got talking. They weren’t Levi, but they were nice and welcomed me as if we’d been friends forever.

In case I could’ve forgotten we were on camera, the reminder came when we finally left the bedroom to explore the rest of the house.

We found one of the other omegas standing in the middle of the shared space, tilting his head coquettishly with his hands under his chin.

Then he spun around and tipped his ass out, looking over his shoulder, making a duck face with lips pursed.

“What are you doing?” Alex asked shyly.

Without even looking at us, he gave an exaggerated sigh, like we were so beneath him.

“Posing for my fans, obviously.” He blew a kiss across the empty living room, and when I followed the direction of his pucker, I found myself looking up at one of the webcams mounted in the corner of the room.

I felt a tingling sensation creep down my body, knowing there were eyes on me this very second.

It was unsettling, but also a little… thrilling, not knowing who was on the other side. There was freedom in that anonymity.

Finally, the svelte man deemed us worthy of his attention. “I’m Rune, the future Mr. Devon Blake.” He offered his hand out, palm down, like we were supposed to kiss the back of his hand.

Uh, yeah, no. That wouldn’t be happening. My roomies and I shared a look of skepticism. It was pretty obvious Rune had been selected as this season’s drama queen, AKA the shit-disturber.

We introduced ourselves because it would be rude not to, but when he realized nobody was going to kiss his hand, he let it drop with a scoff.

“Whatever,” he muttered before sauntering out the sliding glass doors toward the pool.

With one fluid motion, he peeled his shirt up and off, showing off his toned back, before he bent at the waist and shoved his shorts off, giving us all a front-row seat to his itty-bitty teeny-weeny thong, which failed spectacularly at covering his alabaster waxed ass.

“My eyes!” I wailed, slapping a hand over my face, which rewarded me with a round of giggles. I heard the splash as he dove into the pool and decided it was safe to peek from between my fingers.

The front door opened a few more times as the final contestants entered the house, and we naturally gravitated to each other, not just each other’s competition but also partners in this insane dating game.

The kitchen was fully stocked, so we dug out some cheese and crackers and some cut-up fruit and carried it out to the back yard, where we went about getting to know each other.

The sound of cheering from the street out front was dulled by the high fence, and eventually, I was able to tune it out entirely. We lay on sun loungers or sprawled on the short grass. Rune stayed in the water, his blond hair slicked back, and propped his arms on the pool deck.

“So, what do you all do for a living?” Prairie asked, leaning forward, his hazel eyes shining with genuine interest.

This was one of the downsides of being on the show. Whatever might’ve been our jobs last week, at least a few of these men probably had to quit to be here, with no financial incentive and only the slimmest chance of landing a husband.

It turned out that Darnell was a dancer (no surprise there with a body like that), while Cy was a runway model (hello, legs!).

Ross was a dentist, Costas was an engineer, Stuart was a massage therapist, Garfield managed a hedge fund, Alex was a paralegal for Cass & Stohl, and Abraham was a freaking Formula One driver.

Rune, meanwhile, simply laughed and said, “I don’t need to work.

My dad gives me an allowance.” Prairie worked at a non-profit omega shelter, which might not have been as fancy or high-paying but made him look like he had a heart of gold.

As they went around the circle, I felt smaller and smaller, my shoulders hunching.

“What do you do, Ziggy?” Cy asked.

For a split second, I thought about lying.

I was nothing special compared to these men, but I wrestled with the urge.

Chances were, the people watching at home weren’t all world-famous models and trust-fund babies.

They were people like me, and there was absolutely nothing wrong with earning a living.

So instead of coming up with something more glamorous, I looked Cy right in the eye and said, “Until yesterday, I worked in the kitchen at an Italian restaurant.”

Instead of seeing any judgment in the faces around me, I saw only excited grins. Cy grabbed my hand. “Ooh! You can cook? Thank the gods! I thought for sure we were all about to starve to death here, because I am so damn useless in the kitchen.”

“Same!” Stuart echoed. “Ziggy, what’s your specialty? Please tell me it’s manicotti. I’m already drooling.”

Suddenly, I found myself surrounded by 11 hungry, pleading faces, and I felt a small sliver of pride put down roots. “Well, I don’t know if we have the right ingredients, but maybe we could give them a grocery list.” Who knew how many meals I would be here for, but it might be fun.

Eventually, the conversation tapered off, the sun rising overhead to mark the passage of time. “Now what?” Darnell asked, looking around at us. There was one thing glaringly missing from this omega party—one alpha.