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Viv Jaxon and I badly want the same prize, which makes us bitter rivals and sworn enemies. But to be honest, even if we were not competitors, I would detest him with every fiber of my being. He swans around in his expensive Italian suits and looks like he would almost certainly be a very memorable one-night-stand, but I'm not fooled. He is an arrogant, rude, grumpy SOB. A woman-eating shark. Definitely, not to be trusted. Not even for a New York minute. Plus, the man is impossible to work with. Just impossible. But I will grit my teeth and endure him. I'm not letting him win because I can't stand his guts. Hell will freeze over before I do that. This is war and no matter what I'm not backing down. I'll work with him for the next six months even if it kills me. Then the unthinkable happens. We find ourselves stranded in an old, cold mansion with no electricity, a bottle of strong alcohol, and a couple of chocolate bars between us. Who would have thought I would melt faster than the freaking chocolate bars did?

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