“He’s crazy,” Mark said under his breath, smile still plastered on his face.
“Yup,” I agreed.
“So please, each of you, take a buzzer and your position as we commence with our first Emory Games event!’
“If he says Emory Games one more time…” I muttered.
Mark rubbed my back.
I almost leaned into him.
And then I jerked away.
Enemy.
I needed this job.
Get it together, Olivia! One orgasm, and you’re ready to take a nap on his shoulder? No. Be cold. Ruthless. Be you!
Feeling a bit better, I stood behind my little table, quickly sucked down some of the Emory Energy Drink that was provided, and reached for my buzzer.
“And for the first question—”
“Wait.” I held up one hand. “Why are we getting filmed?”
“I like watching myself.” He shrugged. “And according to Little G—”
“OKAY, THANKS!” I yelled.
Max just laughed. “All right, first question. What’s my favorite color?”
The hell?
Mark buzzed. “Blue.”
“Correct!” Max grinned.
“That was a guess!” I shot Mark a glare.
“And a good one at that,” Max agreed.
I chugged more of the energy drink. “Okay, I’m ready.”
“What reality show was I on when—”
We both buzzed at the same time and yelled. “Love Island!”
“Correct, both of you are awarded ten points!”
I stuck my tongue out at Mark and waited, my finger hovering over the red button.
“Name everyone from the show Friends…”
I buzzed and answered, “Rachel, Ross, Joey, Monica, Chandler, Phoebe, and bonus points, Ben was the son, and Marcelle was the monkey.”
Max looked so touched that I thought he would start crying as he dropped his cue card and slow clapped. “Thank you for being inclusive to all animals.”
“Of course!” I grinned.
Mark flipped me off under his table.
Was it wrong that I clenched my thighs and imagined him flipping me off while I rode him? Was that weird? Damn it! He was messing with my head, my edge, my game!
“Next question.” Max cleared his throat. “How many shell companies does Emory Enterprises have?”
Mark buzzed immediately. “Zero, you would never do something so beneath you.”
“I hope,” Max said, nodding, “that one day, I have a son just like you.”
Mark’s dimples seemed to deepen, damn him. How had I not noticed how effing hot they were?
“Last question!” Max announced. “At this point, you’re behind by ten points, Olivia. If you get this question correct, you tie for the day.”
I had to get it right.
Had to.
“How many licks does it take to get to the bottom of the Tootsie—”
“Commercial has three before the owl crunches down, but it’s inevitable!” I shouted.
Alarms sounded.
“TIE BREAKER”! Max seemed positively giddy. “Bring in the box!”
“The box?” I repeated as someone who seemed to be more of a PA for some reality show with his headphone and mic appeared, rolling in a giant black box with a black blanket over it and a hole on either side. “What’s this?”
“Step forward.” Max was having the time of his life, crazy billionaire bastard; how was this real life? I kept looking for hidden cameras because this was anything but an internship, right?
Thinking I was too sleep-deprived and probably going crazy, I focused in again while Mark stared at the box like he was studying it.
“As you can see,” Max said, “there is a hole on either side of this hidden box. Each of you will reach in and feel whatever object is inside this box; the longer your hand stays inside, the more points you acquire, whoever can hold their hand in there the longest, wins.”
“Seems easy.” Mark shrugged.
“Oh, also…” Max snickered. “It…” He smiled. “Is alive.”
“Alive?” we yelled in unison.
“Alive,” he confirmed. “But don’t worry. You’ve signed all the documents, and we have an ambulance just over there.” He legit pointed to the corner where an ambulance was camped out as if one of us were going to die.
What the ever-loving hell kind of internship was this?
We had signed NDAs, which meant previous interns did too, which meant when I googled, all I got was Max Emory, genius in hiring professionals.
Sigh.
Sweat started sliding down my back as my hand hovered near the dark hole. Mark eyed me, then the box, then me again, then blurted, “Is it a fucking snake?”
“Can’t say.” Max shrugged. “This final part of the Games begins in three…two…one.”
We both shoved our hands in.
It was cold, eerily cold.
Mark’s face was pale.
And then something fuzzy touched my hand. I jerked back only to realize that if I left the stupid box, I would lose. So I stared straight ahead at Mark as a bead of sweat slid down his forehead. He looked ready to pass out.
I didn’t move my hand.
I didn’t even breathe.
But there was definitely something alive, rubbing up on me, and it didn’t feel like a kitty cat.
Oh shit! SPIDER SPIDER SPIDER! Mark must have noticed my panic because I started to shake.
“Hey, hey.” Mark shook his head. “Power through, you’ve got this, we’ve got this, okay?”
I shook my head. “No,” I whimpered. “I think it’s a tarantula.”
“Oh hell no.” He uttered a vulgar curse then bit down on his lower lip. “Do they bite?”
“Yes.” Max felt the need to say. “Not poisonous but painful as hell, ah good we’re twenty seconds in! Well done! This is probably a new record! DUSTIN, DUSTIN, is this a record?”
Dustin came running.
Max sighed. “Why did you cut your hair?”
“Because you said it offended you when it was in my eyes.” His lower lip trembled. “But I can get extensions.”
“So disappointing.” Max sighed. “Find out if this is a new record and go feed Hades; he’s sad.”
“He’s…back at home.”
“So drive home.” Max looked heavenward. “I swear some people— oh look, you’re past a minute. Good job, guys!”
I was shaking at this point.
Mark was sweating.
Slowly I reached my hand around the fuzzy thing in an attempt to grab Mark’s fingers, hoping he’d understand what I was doing.
This needed to stop.
I slowly nodded my head, locking eyes with him, then tapped against his palm, three, two one.
He frowned, and then, a thank God expression appeared.
He tapped against my hand, three, two, one, we both
