Applause broke out around them again, along with some friendly boos. He smiled at her—a smile that looked benign enough, but she knew he saw the virtual bird she was flipping him, and she was certain he drew immense satisfaction from it.

“These introductions aren’t going to be on the show,” she whispered when he had charmed the pants off the crowd sufficiently and they returned to make way for the next chef-celebrity pair.

“The cameras are on,” he whispered back, his warm spearmint breath stroking her earlobe, “so everything is fair game. It’s reality TV, Chef Raje. Welcome to show business.”

Anger pulsed through her, displacing all the nervousness. She hated to admit it, but having someone who knew how to navigate this craziness was a plus. So long as he kept his word and left their past behind, and she didn’t let herself forget it even for a moment, she could handle this.

China started to introduce the other contestants. Competitive spirit buzzed through the air and something long forgotten stirred inside Ashna, something that made her palms itch for the feel of a ball. She rubbed the feeling off on her pants.

First up was Tatiana Rain, a TV dog whisperer who was wearing a pink rhinestone collar around her neck. She was just as charming as Rico had been.

This was a pattern. Every star who followed was amply armed with the charm offensive. They did all the talking. The chefs—none of whom Ashna knew and all of whom had impressive credentials—followed Ashna’s lead and merely stood by in support. There had to be a special camp where celebrities trained, because as they took the stage one after another, Ashna realized that they were all adept at owning the room while showing nothing real.

The fact that Rico did this better than everyone else here made her strangely restless. Only the audience seemed to exist for him. In this moment, Ashna could have been anyone—a thought that she chose to find comforting.

Next up was Lilly Cromwell, an older soap opera star from Tennessee with a stark southern drawl—the grandma Ashna had prayed for. Danny El followed, a child star who had aged out of the Disney Channel and was trying to make a name for himself in the adult acting world.

“Who’s the child’s agent?” Rico whispered to her. He was right, this was probably not the best platform if he wanted to be taken seriously.

Then came Song Ji Woo, an actor from a K-drama, which, the young woman was kind enough to explain in the most endearingly modest move, was what Korean TV shows were called. As if there was anyone alive who didn’t know this.