Page 77 of Unclaimed Bonds

“That’s very kind of you to say,” Carmen responds. “Can you tell me—because I am just dying to know— were you and Liam a couple? You talk a lot about him. Did something develop between the two of you?”

“I think it’s pretty obvious that I had a crush on Liam from the very beginning.” I lower my gaze, thinking,Please don’t cry. Don’t cry. “I… It… We weren’t meant to be.” I look up at Christian, instead of Carmen. “I wouldn’t be here now if we were.”

Christian holds my eye. “I guess we need to find your true mate, then.”

Grateful for Christian’s reply, I nod and stare directly into the camera. “Hard to fill the role, especially when I have two amazing fathers that I placed on a pedestal. Not to mention some really awesome uncles.”

My parents chuckle softly. I pat Anders’s knee and turn toward my father.

“They raised the bar tenfold, and they expect me to find a mate who could compare.” I smile at them.

Carmen hums. “Well, your parents selected a variety of men whom they felt were compatible for you. We also selected some men that might be just as compatible. I’m confident you will find someone by the end of the show.”

My mother’s head snaps up. “What do you mean, you also selected compatible men?”

Carmen coughs into her sleeve. “The producers insisted that, even though the timeframe is much shorter than any other season, we maintain our number of contestants. Twenty…” Her eye contact unwavering, she continues, “We selected additional men yielded as a possible match in the algorithm.”

“Algorithm?” My mother raises an eyebrow.

Carmen nods. “Jessica took a compatibility test when we first started. We received applications when word spread, and we also had a list of other men who wanted to be on the show from previous seasons. We chose men who demonstrated high percentages that matched Jessica’s from our database.” She pauses, watching my mother. “It wasn’t something I had control over.”

My mother’s eyes narrow. “Perhaps, but it was something that you could have brought to our attention sooner.”

Anders swears under his breath. “Were any of these men vetted?”

Carmen looks to my father, avoiding Anders’s deadly stare. “They were vetted by our standard protocol.”

Anders and my father both immediately stand. “Not good enough. I want their names.”

“I… we… can’t. It’s too late. Filming starts tomorrow evening.”

My father glowers at Carmen. “This is our daughter’s life, her safety. Who do I need to call?”

Carmen pales. “It’s out of our hands. The men are already here, currently being interviewed, and?—”

My mother holds up her hand. “If anything happens to our daughter, I am warning you right now, not only will I take your company to court for breach of contract and personal harm inflicted on my daughter for the company’s own personal gain, I will disband it and sell it off piece by piece, and everyone, including your producers, will never recover.”

Carmen slides off her chair to her feet. “I can show you our protocol, how we vet all of the contestants. I will call the producers.” She straightens her shoulders. “You realize that if you stop production now, you also breach contract, and the company can sue Jessica. She signed and agreed to be here. We agreed to your terms of bringing on the men you chose, but the producers have a right to make changes as they see fit.”

My mother raises her chin. “I will need to review it, then. My understanding was that changes would only be made in the actual filming, not the men selected for the competition.”

Carmen shrugs. “You can take it up with our production’s lawyers.”

My parents argue with Carmen as they all exit the room. They won’t let this stand. I look to Christian, and we both laugh. He shakes his head.

“So do we continue, or do we wait for Carmen to return?” I ask him.

He checks the camera. “I’m still filming. We can continue, if you want. Who knows when they will return. Doesn’t sound like your parents will back down.”

I chuckle. Carmen doesn’t know what she’s up against.

He smiles, studying me for a few seconds. “I don’t get it,” he finally admits.

“You care to elaborate?”

“You, sitting here. You seem so—I don’t know—for lack of a better term, submissive.”

My eyebrows raise. “Submissive? I’m anything but submissive. Trust me.”