Chapter 3
The filming location was an old town in Willowshire. The production team had booked out the entire guesthouse area, and the four couples were each staying in their own courtyard.
By the time we arrived, the other three couples were already there, ready for a welcome ceremony in the plaza before dinner.
Before I got out of the car, Charles's assistant handed me a paper bag. "Mrs. Grant, Mr. Grant picked out something for you to wear." Inside was a cream Chanel dress: soft, elegant, proper, and completely not my style.
"Thanks." I set the bag on the seat and didn't touch it again.
Charles looked over. "You're not changing?"
"It's too formal. I'll be uncomfortable,"I said. "I'm wearing my own clothes."
His brows furrowed again. I'd seen that look too many times over the past three years when a proposal at work disappointed him, when a subordinate messed up, or when he came home and saw me curled up on the couch in loungewear watching dramas.
Lowering his voice, he said, "It's the first episode. Image matters."
"I know."I pushed the car door open and got out. "But that five million doesn't buy the right to police what I wear, Mr. Grant. That's my freedom too."
"The three other couples were already standing in the plaza.
As I walked over, I could feel their eyes on me: jeans, white T-shirt, canvas sneakers, bare face."
Next to the other women, all dressed up with care, I looked more like a staff member than a guest.
The director came over to greet me. "Mrs. Grant, hello. That outfit looks so easy and comfortable."I smiled and thanked him. He clearly knew how to smooth things over.
The couples introduced themselves. First were David Reed and Julia Reed, married fifteen years and famous as a model couple in the entertainment world.
They were a few years older than me, so I later called them Dave and Julia. Julia was polished and poised; Dave looked every inch the devoted husband.
Second were Brian Lee and Sophia Quinn, married one year and still in the head-over-heels phase. They were a little younger than me, so I called them Brian and Sophia.
She was a sweet-voiced influencer clinging to his arm, while he was the sports-car, trust-fund-kid type who looked down his nose at people.
Third were Mark Evans and Anna Evans, married eight years, both college teachers. They told us to call them Mark and Anna.
They looked ordinary enough, but whenever he spoke, she watched him less like a wife and more like a suspect.
The fourth couple was us. "Hello, everyone. I'm Charles Grant," he said, resting a hand lightly on my waist. "This is my wife, Emily Lane."
I slid half a step aside and smiled at the group. The cameraman definitely caught that little moment, but I didn't care.
The welcome dinner was held in the main courtyard, where a long table had been set for all twelve of us. Charles was on my left and Julia was on my right.