Page 120 of Insta Bride

“How do you know all of these people?” I shouted to Hunter as more gorgeous men joined our table.

“They’re all old friends. I just normally play cards or golf with them but when I said we were partying for two weeks, they wanted to relive our wild years.”

“Cards or golf?” Olivia raised an eyebrow. “That’s a funny way of describing it. I have my posse, Hunter has his.”

I was grateful and enjoyed the attention.

When Maddox turned up, he was turned away by bouncers who knew the score.

When Kye arrived, my posse allowed me to dance, flirt, even have fun. But at the end of each night, I went back with Hunter and Olivia.

The social media lapped it up. Pictures of Kye looking lovelorn, pictures of us together, pictures of me leaving with my friends.

Over the next week, we’d changed the narrative.

Kye: My turn

I couldn’t wait.

Kye

Even if Elena agreed to be in the same room with me without chaperones, I still couldn’t talk to her.

Yes, I could dance with her in public, even try some flirting banter.

But all the while there were security dudes and her friends ready and willing to come between us.

Her ex had set me up beautifully. And since he wasn’t subject to all the same non-disclosures, media loved his every comment and decided we were a love triangle. Yes, I’d gone on the show for a media profile, but this wasn’t it and nothing I could do would put the genie back in the fucking bottle.

Everyone wanted to see Elena back with her first love; someone who’d seen the error of his ways and was willing to put it all on the line for love. Me? Well, months ago, I’d been happy with the role of lying, cheating asshole. I’d thought it would bring me fame, fortune and more. I hadn’t realized the cost.

All the interviews pre going on the island, I’d played up my womanizing ways. I’d bragged about how many women I’d sleep with on the island and how many relationships I’d destroy.

With Bree’s urging, I’d set myself up to be the bad guy. Now, Benjamin and Kenzie were Australia’s favorite couple, and Elena—fuck.

Elena believed the shit being spread thickly across the media. She didn’t believe in me, or us, or anything.

I needed a circuit breaker. A way of getting out of town for a couple of days. Friends who wouldn’t go blabbering to journalists or use me as clickbait.

I had one friend who knew how to avoid scrutiny, and the price of infamy.

Kye to Dev: Need an escape

Dev: How’s married life?

Kye to Dev: Avoiding life, not the wife

Dev: You’re getting screwed in the press. How’s married life screwing with you?

Kye to Dev: Got a spare sleeping bag?

Dev: Address to follow. There’s a spare room bigger than the doghouse you’re probably used to

Kye to Dev: She’s not returning my calls

Dev: I know something about loving complicated women

In the past year or so, my old friend, Devon Scott, had become a household name. Devon had struck it lucky hooking up with the right band at the right time with the right sound. Didn’t hurt that his lead singer was almost Australian rock royalty. Deacon Galis lead singer of Stormy Waters had been Australian rock royalty when Cold Chisel was still playing for beers. Xavier Galis had his brother’s voice without the decades’ long abuse.