Page 117 of Insta Bride
“No.”
“Why, because it’s a game you don’t want to lose?”
“This stopped being a game.” I railed, wishing Bree could put ratings aside and do the right thing. “It stopped being a game on the Island. Remember, I was the one who came to you about getting married. I was the one that gave you the idea that turned all reality TV shows on their head.”
“My career thanks you, but—”
“You saw me change. You knew I was willing to step up and marry her. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have pitched it to the producers. You saw me fall in love and you knew I wouldn’t make you look like a fool by backing out of the marriage challenge.”
My mouth was running faster than my brain, but I paused and said, with all the charm that used to get women to drop their panties and leave their morals at the door, “You owe me, Bree.”
“Why? Because we slept together a couple of times?”
“No, because you know me. You know this stopped being a game months ago. Help me, please.”
“I can’t.” Finally, Bree sounded painfully sincere. “I would if I could, but I can’t.”
Elena
I should have been feeling like a girl in demand. For every text or voice message from Maddox clogging up my inbox, there were three from Kye. I tried to read something into the unread and unlistened messages, but my little brain became too numb.
I had two weeks of this farce and then the contract would be over. We would turn up at the commitment ceremony, the votes from Australia would have been cast and Kye and I would go our separate ways.
He’d probably set up the Maddox deal as a sabotage, so I’d leave him. He’d walk away with the Softli contract, his million-dollar sales commission, while I’d walk away with—
I didn’t know what I’d walk away with, anymore.
Not love.
Not even memories of what I thought we’d had. Not if everything had been a lie. A way to get his name in lights and money in his pocket.
Olivia and Hunter had been great, offering me Hunter’s gym as a bedroom for as long as I needed.
Tash had generously offered to her one-bedroom apartment, assuring me that we could either share her bed or she’d curtain off part of the lounge.
I still hadn’t told my tenants I wanted my apartment back. Holding on to some morose attempt at hope. Although, as much as I tried to hide my humiliation and extent of my grief from friends, every time I thought the word, hope, tears would start falling and my heart would start its erratic beating again. My chest would clench until I swore Kye was sitting on top of me instead of living rent free in my head.
My friends had dragged me up the coast for a drunken two days before they had to get back to Sydney and their jobs, and I had to find a new life.
Hunter had at least greeted my return with sympathetic hugs. “For what it’s worth, he’s hurting, too.”
“Who?”
“Your husband. The guy you promised to love until death do you part?”
“Shame he didn’t feel the same.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that. My money is on him just needing a not so gentle reminder of why he said I do, in the first place.”
“He made his choice. Money or the wife, and he didn’t even blink.”
“Did you hear him say the words? Or did you hear crickets—dead air? Think about it Elena—did you hear him say anything at all?”
“No, but—”
“I’ve got one word for you—editing.”
“But—” I didn’t know why Hunter was fighting so hard for Kye and me. Unless he knew something?