Page 25 of Insta Bride

“How about we take advantage of the sun while we’ve got it. And we can move the bags in later.” I liked the idea of spending time together, before officially moving in.

“I’ve got an even better idea.” Kye dragged me off to the production team. We weren’t supposed to acknowledge their existence but Kye didn’t seem to be bothered by the same rules others lived by.

“Bree, got a sec?”

“Uh-huh.” The production manager, Bree, shot me a filthy look. Really? We were the last couple to make it official. I thought she’d be happy to get the footage—unless. Oh. Shit. Of course, I understood jealousy.

Kye hugged me from behind, dropping his chin on my shoulder and using a sickly-sweet voice that could have nuns second-guessing their career choice, “What would I have to do to have our bags magically appear in our villa?”

Bree looked to me, raised eyebrow, and didn’t hide her disbelief, “Is this what you want?”

“Yes.” My answer wasn’t as sure as I wanted it to be, and I was grateful that at least this conversation wouldn’t be shown to the viewers—unless they edited out Bree.

“What do I get out of it?” Bree looked to me, but her question was for Kye. I understood. The production team wanted some clickbait, take away lines or controversy.

Kye linked his fingers around my waist, tickling my belly button.

“We’re going for a swim, the first time as a loved up, committed couple. We will then grab our towels and head straight to the diary tent.

“As a couple?” Bree snorted.

I turned, still giggling, and kissed Kye’s cheek. “Well, unless he does something to piss me off between now and then.”

Kye laughed and replied in easy banter, “Babe. I haven’t done anything but piss you off since the moment we met.”

I shrugged and looked to the production assistant with smiling resignation, “He really is like a naughty puppy. He pees on the carpet and you go, please don’t do that again, even though you know, he will.”

“Are we going to pick up this conversation on camera?” She looked at me and I held her gaze. No bitch was about to put me in my place. Not when I knew we all wanted the same thing, the only question was the price to be paid.

“Do I go and pack my own bags, or—” I was never this brazen. Never. Kye bought out the best and worst in me.

“How much packing do I need to do?” Bree asked.

“I’ve been living out of my suitcases.” I turned to look at Kye, only to be rewarded with a brief kiss. One that still made my insides sing, but also gave me promises for later. “I always assumed we’d be the boring couple that got eliminated. I’ve got some toiletries in the bathroom, but that’s about it.”

“Kye?”

“Yeah, I might need to do some extra diary entries to get me out of trouble. My stuff’s a mess, sorry.”

“You didn’t think we’d be moving into the couple’s villa?”

“I didn’t think you were that stupid.”

I looked at him, mouth open and stepped away. Stupid? Kye thought I was stupid?

“What?”

“I mean, it was like you saw me before you even knew me. I’m not a good guy.”

I tried to breathe as he tightened his fingers back around me. “Elena, I’ve never wanted to be a good guy.”

“Oh, and now?”

“Now, I’m willing to do things I haven’t done before.”

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d laughed so much.

By the time Kye had helped me out of the pool, his hands had become quite familiar around my hips. We’d played Marco Polo with the others, we had wrestled, we’d even floated around on ugly inflatable swans. All the time, his attention—his absolute adoration—was in one direction, me. He’d started to break down all my reasons, all of my insecurities. Too busy making me laugh with antics from work or observations about life, his eyes didn’t once waft over to the other half naked women. Kenzie, in particular, almost drowned trying to get his attention.

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