"I understand."

"And you have experience in television?"

"Yes." Darcy glanced at the trash can that now held her neatly typed resume. "I graduated in television journalism at the University of Southern California and worked in that region for several years before moving to New York and a position at Local Four News—"

"Fine, fine." Mr. Bacchus waved a hand to shut her up. "Look, I want this reality show. If you can get us a fancy location and guarantee that Draganesti's old harem will participate, then you've got a job. Director."

Her heart lurched. Director of a reality show? Okay. She could handle this. She had to. It was this or nothing.

"So can you do it? Deliver the penthouse and the harem?"

"Yes." She clenched her portfolio with a white-knuckled grip. "I'd be delighted." God help her.

"And don't forget the hot tub."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

"Great! I'll have an office ready for you tomorrow night. What do you want to call the show?"

Her mind raced, searching for a pithy title. How to Dig Your Own Grave in Less than Five Minutes?

"Well, the women will be selecting the perfect man to be their new master."

Mr. Bacchus perched on the corner of his desk and scratched at his beard. "The Perfect Man? Or The Perfect Master?"

Not exciting enough. Darcy closed her eyes briefly to concentrate. Maggie would think Don Orlando was the perfect man. What had she called him? "How about The Sexiest Man on Earth?"

"Excellent!" Mr. Bacchus grinned. "And call me Sly. It's short for Sylvester."

"Thank you… Sly."

"This has gotta be a hit. Not just an ordinary show, but one with twists and surprises."

"Yes, of course."

"Auditions will be easy. As you can see in the lobby, there'll be lots of male Vamps trying out for the show."