Chapter 6
Reid
That bastard!
What the fuck?
It’s our first full day in Belize. It’s early in the fucking morning. Just after six o’clock. It’s fucking gorgeous outside. I went out to have a swim, and now I’m ready to tear someone’s head off. I shove my way past Merrick’s assistants-slash-guard-dogs.
In my contract it states clearly that all footage would be shot with my knowledge and no hidden cameras would be used. Period. So why the fuck did I find a hidden camera in a fucking plant by the pool this morning?
Yes, it was on.
Recording everything.
I’m sure it was on yesterday too.
Have they watched any footage yet? Have they all seen what happened? Have they all seen Kate in that wet t-shirt, her little nipples hard…
Fuck!
Speaking of nipples, where else have they hidden cameras?
In the bedrooms? Did they see me grab her tit?
“I’ve called my attorney,” I announce as soon as I’m in the same room with him.
Not even bothering to look up from whatever the fuck he’s doing, Merrick shrugs. “We need footage. We’re over budget,” he says to his fucking computer. “I had to wait until this morning to bring in the crew—”
“Bullshit!” I shout, charging at the lowlife. I want knock that fucking computer off the desk and throttle the bastard. But I know I can’t.
I bend over and stick my face in his to make sure I have his full attention. “If every fucking hidden camera isn’t cleaned from this place today, I’m quitting. And suing your ass for breach of contract.”
I feel like such a fucking failure, after what I promised Kate last night. Didn’t I promise I’d protect her? And now, thanks to me (after all, I made her get in the pool), everyone in the crew, including the editors, have probably just got an eyeful of tit.
I want to fucking break something.
“Hey, now. No need to do anything so rash.” Merrick closes his fucking laptop and actually looks at me. “The cameras are gone. I already told Alex to take them out. All of them.”
“You saw the footage.”
“Yes, I saw it. It’s great stuff--”
“Who else?” I snap. My teeth are gritted so hard I think my jaw’s going to snap.
“No one. No one else saw.”
No one? Bullshit. “If I find out anyone else saw it, or it happens again, you’ll be talking to my attorneys. Final warning. You will make sure none of it makes it into the final edit, correct?”
“Of course.” Merrick raises his hands in a display of surrender. “You have my word. The pool scene will be deleted. And it won’t happen again. Fucking shame, Reid.”
“Don’t fucking talk to me about shame.” Not satisfied, but having no recourse, I stomp out of his room. I don’t know what to say to Kate. At this point she doesn’t know any of that was filmed. I caught it in time, I hope.
Still. That asshole saw our kiss.
That was our time. Our private time.
It was magical.
Knowing he saw it makes it feel dirty.
Damn, I’m fucking pissed.
Needing to burn off some energy, I kick off my shoes and run toward the beach. We have less than an hour before we need to be in hair and makeup. If I’m going to get through today without breaking someone’s head, I need to cool down.
I push myself to a full run. Since I was a little kid, running has been my therapy. When I was sad, I ran.
When I was angry, I ran.
When I was frustrated, I ran.
I ran. And ran. Until my legs would tremble, my muscles pushed to their limits.
Then I was better.
I only have an hour today. I’m hoping that’ll be enough time to work off this fury.
I swing my arms and push harder, digging my feet into the sand and letting the resistance add intensity. Feels good. Really good. So does the salty wind on my face. The crashing of waves in my ears.
I could get used to this, living by the sea.
Maybe it’s time to retire. Here. With Kate. We could buy a place, something small. Private.
We could have kids. Live a simple life. Away from all the bullshit. The LA liars. The leeches.
Yes, that sounds really fucking good right now.
Reaching the end of the property, I double back, running closer to the water. My feet sink into the wet sand. The tide licks out then draws back, pulling sand and bits of seashells into the ocean. Overhead, birds sail on the air currents, swooping down to catch fish.
I stop.
I breathe.
Yes, I could live here forever.
With Kate. And our children.
I could give it all up to live like this. I wouldn’t care if we had to live in a shack.
It’s so fucking peaceful out here.
I can breathe.
I hadn’t realized until right now, this instant, how stressed I am. How frantic my life has become. How my career has taken over my entire existence.
Fuck that.
I want peace.
I want love.
I want life.
I want…reality.
I turn toward the house.
Kate. I see her. Standing on the back deck, looking out at the water. She doesn’t see me.
She’s real. Everything she says, everything she does, they’re real. Unscripted. Unrehearsed.
Real.
Fuck the fantasy. Fuck it all. Fuck those lying assholes.
When this is done, I’m done. With television. And movies.
I’m buying a house and raising kids. With Kate.
I plan it all out as I zig-zag across the private beach several more times. I have a decent amount of money saved up. I’ve been working steadily, earning enough to pile up a decent nest egg but not enough to start living like fucking Donald Trump. If we live smart, it’s enough. We won’t be able to buy a place like the palace the show leased for our “honeymoon.” But we can afford to live on the water.
We can buy a cozy little house and do things normal people do. Like walk the dog and take the kids to the park without a horde of paparazzi following us.
Damn, that sounds great.
By the time I’ve exhausted the rest of the hour, I’m feeling much better. Ready to face the cameras and whatever Merrick has cooked up for us. I climb the steps up to the house and duck inside. It’s cool in here. Feels damn good.
Alex yells, “There you are! You’re late!”
“Sorry.” I strip off my t-shirt and mop my forehead.
“And you’re a fucking mess.”
“I can take a quick shower.”
“Five minutes!” she snaps. “John’s on my ass. We’re way over budget. We have to get the rest of the episodes in the can.”
“I’ll be out in four.” Assuming Kate is in hair and makeup, I race to the bathroom, crank on the water and strip out of my clothes. The cool water cascades down my heated body, washing the sweat away. I lather up quickly, rinse and cut off the water, snatching a towel off the bar and wrapping it around my waist.
I open the bathroom door and nearly crash into my wife.
Her startled gaze drops to my chest, slides south to the white towel hiding my vitals, then climbs up, up, up to my face. “Um.”
“Sorry. I was in a hurry.” Amused by her reaction to my (mostly) unclothed body, I side-step around her to get some clothes. Not anticipating my movement, she steps in my path again, then, giggling nervously, she quickly hops out of the way.
Amused by our little dance, I try to focus on getting dressed. My stuff is still in the bag, delivered late last night. I dig out some underwear and step into them. The towel slides off my hips as I tug them up. If my wife is still in the room—I’m not sure at this point—she’s just had her first glimpse of my bare ass.
Of course, she’ll see it plenty more in the future.
I nab the first shirt I find that isn’t a wrinkled mess and a pair of shorts and turn around.
Yes, she’s still here.
And, holy shit, is that blush tinting her cheeks adorable. My dick likes that pink tint. Very much.
And I have no time to hide it.
Her gaze drops to that region of my body, and the pink cranks up to fuchsia. Her little mouth opens but immediately snaps shut, she does a one-eighty and makes a bee-line for the door.
Swallowing a chuckle I follow her, admiring the view of her behind, hugged by a pair of shorts.
Someday I’ll see that ass, without clothes. Someday soon, I hope.
While I was running, I made a decision. Rather than fight the producers and their attempts at tricking us into becoming physical for the cameras, I’m going to embrace it. While I am still committed to keeping our intimate moments private, I am going to let them help me romance this woman.
She’s in for a whirlwind romance. Starting today. Whatever they have planned, it’s bound to be very fucking romantic.
And as they say, all’s fair in love, war…and reality TV.