Page 102 of The Love Dare
“Is that what you think you do?” He barks out a dark laugh as his jaw drops. “I think you meant to say,Exploit people for ratings.”
“Maybe.” She shrugs. “But I’ve got a quote foryouthis time. Shakespeare. Your favorite.The course of true love never did run smooth.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“This show is a six-week pressure cooker. If a couple isn’t strong enough to survive here, there’s no way they’ll make it out in the real world. And isn’t that better to know now? You might not like my methods, but they’re effective. I got Winnie to face her darkest fear. I got you to face yours. I got you both out of your own ways—and yes, I filmed the entire thing for my benefit—but in the end, you’re the one who can walk out of here one fiancée richer, if you want to. That choice is yours. And it’s time to make it. Do we have a plane to catch or don’t we?”
Tyler grits his teeth.
After all the hell she put them both through, the absolute last thing he wants is to hand this woman a win. But if it’s a choice between Winnie and his pride, then it’s no choice at all. He’ll pick Winnie every time.
The answer comes to him in an instant.
“You want a finale to remember, Nina?”
She narrows her eyes. “I’m listening.”
“Good. Because it’s my turn to call the shots. Let’s see what you and your fancy network can do.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
winnie
“Um, excuse me?”Winnie clears her throat in the thick silence of the car, trying to catch the producer’s attention, but the girl’s black curls hang in front of her face like a curtain. “Rita? Are we lost?”
“No.” Rita hastily types something, not bothering to glance up from her phone.
Winnie wrings her fingers in her lap for the thousandth time. “It’s just we’ve been driving around for what feels like hours. I mean, I don’t know, because you guys took my watch weeks ago and I can’t see the clock, but I’m pretty sure we’ve driven by that building up ahead like three times, and it sort of feels like we’re going in circles, so I just thought I’d check…”
“I know exactly where we are,” Rita says, finally looking up. Her bloodred lips are pursed, light brown eyes scrutinizing behind the lenses of her dark-rimmed glasses. Winnie’s a bit jealous. She would’ve worn hers if she’d known it was going to take so long to get to the puzzle ceremony, but contacts matched her formal vibe a little better. They’re itchy as hell though—a fact Rita seems to notice. “Your eyes are red. Do you want some drops?”
Winnie perks up. “Oh, do you have any?”
“Yeah.” The producer rummages through her bag. The little vial she retrieves doesn’t have a label, but drops are drops, right? “Lean back.”
Winnie obliges. From the corner of her eye, she sees the camera light blink red. They’re filming again—why? Before she has a chance to ask, Rita squirts what feels like a gallon of liquid into her eyes.
“What the hell?” Winnie sputters, trying to sit up.
“One sec,” Rita mutters and grabs her head, hitting the other eye, too.
“Ow! What the fuck?” Winnie pushes the producer off, blinking through the onslaught as her entire world blurs. Water spills down her cheeks.
There goes my makeup.
She practically growls as she rubs at her eyes, trying to clear them, sure her mascara is now thoroughly smudged all over her face.
“Sorry, did I hurt you?” Rita asks innocently.
“Yeah, it hurts,” Winnie snaps. “Of course, it hurts.”
“Was it too much?”
“Yes, it was too much. Have you ever used eye drops before, you lunatic? That was too freaking much.”
“I thought you could handle it.”
“Handle it? No one could handle that. I feel attacked, right now.”
