I Was Not Expecting That: All The Wrong Reasons Episode Ten: All The Wrong Reasons, #11

By KK Hendin

So special guests are actually not helpful in the quest toward Happily Ever After.

Especially if they're absconding contestants.

Threatening them with deadly force.

Having a very bad hair day.

But that's fine, the show must go on.

So what if there's an active criminal investigation going on? Why should that matter?

Wait, there are journalists here now?

Journalists?

Oh, no.

***
ABOUT ALL THE WRONG REASONS:


Fated.

An award-winning reality dating show, or, as the network likes to call it, The Real Last Chance For A Fairy Tale Ending.

You know how this works.

One Prince Charming is picked. He's inevitably handsome, shredded, has a vague enough sounding job to be legitimate, and the ability to lie really well to the cameras. He's looking for his One True Love, and obviously, the best way of finding that person (who always happens to be a white woman, between five foot three and five foot ten, wearing approximately a size zero to four, and preferably blonde) is to have a team of producers round up seventeen women who are all more or less interchangeable, move them into a castle, ply them with alcohol, turn cameras on, and broadcast it all on national television.

Add in a plethora of the most ridiculous dates the producers can possibly think of, too many feelings, real and fake, and an emotional proposal at the end, and you have the highest-rated reality show in history.

Everyone is willing to play the game. Some walk in more willing than others, but in the end, they all believe in it. The show, the fairy tale, the happily ever after. Regardless of what's happened to previous 'winners' of the show.

It's not like anyone's ever been there for the right reasons. But never have the wrong reasons been so wrong.

• Language: English
• Publisher: KK Hendin
• Release date: May 12, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201337742

Book preview

Chapter One

Wilhelm Hanes had impeccable timing. Or terrible timing.

Honestly, it was hard to tell sometimes.

You’re walking on very thin ice here, Hanes drawled on the phone. I don’t like having to follow up with you. I should not have to.

You should not, Vaughn agreed, more annoyed than worried. He was too busy trying to get information out of this Aless chick to fully process just how worried he should be about Hanes continuing to call him, and not the other way around. How’s everything, sir?

This isn’t a fucking social call, Hanes snapped. What’s going on?

Shit. Right.

Well, I have Donovan’s little friend here for a chat, Vaughn said, smiling lasciviously in Aless’s direction. She rolled her eyes and sighed. We were just about to get to the part where she was going to tell me everything she knows.

Once again, it’s not much, Aless responded.

Was that her? Hanes asked.

Yes. Vaughn glared at Aless. Once she finally told him what he needed to know, he was going to gag her or some shit. She had an attitude problem he was going to have a lot of fun taking care of.

Hmm, Hanes mused. There was distant keyboard clattering. He hmmm’d again. Prettier than I expected.

Vaughn didn’t say anything.

Let me know how she behaves, Hanes instructed. She may be an interesting one to keep around if she proves herself useful.

Possibly, Vaughn said.

The clock’s still ticking, Hatfield, Wilhelm Hanes said calmly. I still expect the paintings and full information in your possession in three hours.

Vaughn tried not to audibly gulp. Every time Hanes talked to him, he shortened the time Vaughn had to get all the shit he came to the island for.

Of course, sir, he responded. Fuck, he was never going to stick his neck out like this for Hanes again. No more delegating shit. This kind of stress fucked up his skin something fierce.

Well, then. Better go on and make sure all those paintings are real, Hanes said. I’m expecting to hear back from you, and soon.

Of course, Vaughn replied.

Good. I’m getting impatient. With that, Hanes hung up the phone.

Fucking great.

That’s exactly what Vaughn didn’t need now, was Hanes losing the little patience he had.

He turned to Aless, who was still strung up so beautifully with manacles. He really should look into getting something like it for his own home, for when he had uncomfortable questions for people who didn’t want to answer him. Good, old fashioned torture really was underutilized when it came to Vaughn getting shit done, which was something that could be easily remedied.

Well, he said, Time to earn what you came here for. Start talking.

If Aless managed to get out of this godforsaken dungeon alive, she was going to join a nunnery. Become a preschool teacher. Move to the middle of nowhere and Walden it. Minus the part where Thoreau’s mom did his laundry and shit.

The point was.

If she made it out alive, she was done with anything even vaguely nefarious. She was going to be on the straight and narrow, she wasn’t going to even think about doing anything illegal.

In order to do that, though, she had to not rile up Vaughn. She had to cooperate, she had to be calm and well behaved and—

You want me to just talk or was there something specific? Aless asked.

Truly, she had absolutely no survival skills whatsoever.

Vaughn reached out and slapped her. Stop fucking around, he hissed. There probably would have been a vein throbbing in his forehead if it wasn’t frozen. You will answer my questions or I will make you answer my questions. He smiled slowly. You might not enjoy the process. He cupped himself suggestively. But I’m going to.

Ewww. Aless sighed. You didn’t ask me any questions, she said.

Oh, but I did, Vaughn replied, wandering over to a table of household tools and rummaging. Remember? I asked you about Donovan’s plans and you claimed not to know what they were.

Okay, that question I remember, Aless responded. And I didn’t answer because I don’t know.

Vaughn chose a knife and wandered back over to her. You sure?

I told you. I spoke to Donovan on the first day of filming and that’s all, Aless replied.

Vaughn stroked the side of her neck with the knife. He must have told you something then.

He did not. Just that I wouldn’t have to worry about anything until we got here, and he would let me know what information I needed to know. But he died before that happened.

Vaughn pursed his lips, clearly not believing a word Aless was saying. You know, he mused, I think one of the knives I have with me could make it look like you were attacked by a vampire. He grinned. Herman, did you bring the bear trap?

What the entire fuck was wrong with this man? Aless thought desperately. And why hadn’t she learned how to escape from handcuffs before she joined the show? She kept on meaning to, but never actually had.

Do you have any other questions you want to ask me? Aless tried, trying as best she could to keep her thoughts away from what exactly a bear trap would do to her body, and not doing a great job of it.

"Oh, so now you’re willing to cooperate?"

I was willing to cooperate with questions the whole time, Vaughn, but you haven’t asked me a question I could answer yet.

Surrrre.

Dude, you’re holding a knife to my throat.

Oh, I know. He smiled. Isn’t it nice?

Not especially, she gritted out.

Shame. I think it’s a good look on you.

You know what would be a better look for me? Aless didn’t ask aloud. Being knife free and not manacled to a wall.

Was that a spider crawling toward her?

Nope, nope, nope, she wasn’t going to look.

No other questions? she asked again.

Well, you can tell me where the paintings are, Vaughn said, watching the little trickle of blood make its way down her neck.

Sure, Aless agreed. It’s kind of hard to explain, but I can bring you there.

"Really, you think I’m going to fall