Ellie

I’m expecting the drive back to the villa the next morning to be quiet and awkward.

I’m thrilled to be wrong.

“I hate to keep harping on this, Wright, but I really am not going to be able to let you out of the car until I have your word on this.”

I swear as the car hits a bump and I glob mascara on my eyebrow by accident. “Damn you, Barrett, how did you not make me get makeup remover wipes at the store?”

“I was busy in the snack aisle. I mean, did I want chocolate-covered macadamia nuts for my snack, or plain? These were big decisions.”

I lick my finger and swipe at the black smudge. When I made my list for Gage’s minions last night, I hadn’t thought it all the way through. I’d gotten clothes and shoes for the ride back to the villa, but not makeup.

Ordinarily I wouldn’t care. But considering it’s a reality TV show I’m heading back to? Yeah, I care. Go ahead, call me superficial. But first, just ponder this: high-definition TV. Now this: nearly-thirty-year-old skin on high-definition TV. There you go.

Gage and I stopped at a drugstore where I stocked up on enough basic cosmetics to make my face passable, and he got…snacks.

“Okay, so back to the important topic,” Gage says as I dot concealer on a red spot on my chin. “I have your word that the second you’re back on the mainland, you’ll watch all of the Godfather movies?”

“Why would you think you have my word on that?” I say, dabbing at the concealer to rub it in. “I distinctly remember saying that I had zero interest in seeing those movies. In fact, I think my exact words were ‘I promise never to watch them because they look boring.’ ”

He lets out a pained groan. “Okay, how about a compromise? Just watch the first one.”

I swipe on the lip gloss, then scowl into the visor mirror, because the color’s all wrong. Way too coral.

“How bad is this? Be honest,” I say, turning toward Gage and puckering.

He glances over, using one finger to tilt his sunglasses down and inspect my hasty makeup job before pushing the shades back up and returning his attention to the road. “I like it. Reminds me of my grandma Anita.”

“Perfect. Grandma Anita is just what I was going for,” I grumble, rummaging around in the drugstore bag to find something to blot with. I settle for the cardboard backing of the foundation package. It doesn’t fully remove the color, but at least it tones down the brightness.

I sigh and fold the visor back up. “All right, that’s as good as this is gonna get.”

When I turn my attention to the road, I feel a little stab of panic when I realize I recognize some of the scenery. We’re close. Very close.

“You nervous?” he asks, his voice serious for the first time all morning.

“Absolutely.”

He surprises me by reaching across the car and linking his fingers with mine. “I’ll be right there with you. If they try to kill you with a pineapple and dump your body in the ocean, I’ll be sure Spielberg hears about it. He’ll make a movie out of the crime, and nobody will ever forget your name.”

“Would you be a part of the film?”

“The star, obviously. Who do you want to play you?”

“Well, considering you’ll have to make out with whoever plays me, we should definitely be sure it’s someone hot. What about Kara Fisher? She’s gorgeous.”

“Nah. She was just cast to play my love interest in the next Killboy movie. We can’t be love interests twice, it’ll confuse people.”

“Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks did it more than once. So did Julia Roberts and Richard Gere.”

Gage groans. “She refuses to watch The Godfather, but those movies she’s got at the ready.”

I look over. “Is Kara Fisher really your love interest in the next movie?”

He shrugs. “Just found out this morning. I believe she plays a seductive, modern-day pirate who sneaks into my hotel room to have her piratey way with me.”

I feel a pang of jealousy at the thought of Gage and the stunning actress filming love scenes. It’s a good reminder, though—a reminder of why this would never work. That’s his life, which would then be my life, and…

I’m distracted from the jealous track of my thoughts by an emotion so much worse: terror.

We’re here.

Neither of us says a word as Gage pulls up to the gate at the villa. Rolling down the window, he enters a code. I let out a shuddering breath as the car slowly pulls into the driveway.

Gage gives my fingers one last reassuring squeeze before pulling back.

At first I think we’re going to get lucky—there’s no sign of anyone out in the front yard. With any luck, they’re all at the pool, and maybe I can slip inside…

I hear a car door slam, and then a short blond man comes into view, freezing when he sees us. His eyes go wide, flicking between me and Gage before he sprints into the house like a startled rabbit.

Gage groans.

“You know him?”

“One of Raven’s assistants. He’s both bitchy and ass-kissing, and now there’s exactly zero chance that everyone in the house doesn’t know we’re here. Or that the camera crew isn’t scrambling for their equipment.”

“That’s wonderful,” I mutter, unbuckling my seatbelt.

“Ellie.”

I look up.

“How do you want to play this?”

“Does it matter? They’re going to turn it into whatever story they want.”

“Probably,” he agrees. “No matter how it goes down, they’ll likely edit it to get the best soap opera melodrama they possibly can. But what do you want from me? I can tell them it was my idea.”

I smile. “Well, it kind of was.”

He grins back. “Zero regrets.”

“Me neither.”

I intended for my tone to match his playfulness, but it comes out as a whisper, revealing far too much.

His smile slips, and he reaches out, touching my cheek. “I’m going to ask something, but you have to promise not to freak out.”

My heart begins to beat faster at his serious expression, but I try to keep it light. “Sorry, no promise there. Besides, I’m already freaking out.”

This time it’s Gage who doesn’t respond to the playfulness, his expression intent. “What if I didn’t send you home at the next ceremony? What if you…” He swallows. “What if you stayed? Just to see where this went?”

What if you stayed?

For a heartbeat, I feel like flying. He wants me to stay. But I crash in the very next instant as I realize what staying would mean. It would mean continuing to play the game. Having to watch as he goes through the motions of dating all of us women. I’d be able to see him at night, yes, but what about the rest of the time? Our days would be controlled by the producers, and the fewer women that are left with each passing day, the more one-on-one time he’ll spend with them. I don’t think my heart can handle it.

And when you throw in the fact that the whole thing leads up to a wedding…

I want to get married someday, I do. But not like this. And that’s if he even wanted to. Let’s be honest—his track record on weddings isn’t great.

It hits me then what’s really going on here.

I’ve fallen for a runaway groom. And an actor at that. If there was ever a guy whose middle name was heartbreak, it’s this one.

I lift my eyes to him. “I can’t,” I whisper. “I’d always be wondering what’s real and what’s not, and I did my homework on the stats of relationships that start out this way, and they’re not…I like you, I do, but I can’t…I don’t—”

“Ellie.” He smiles, and though it shows off his trademark dimples, the smile doesn’t light his eyes like it usually does. “I get it. It’s okay.”

I turn my head into his hand and press a quick kiss to his knuckles, hoping it doesn’t reveal too much.

Then I take a deep breath and reach for the door handle. “You ready for this? I’m thinking we just say as little as possible. It was a mistake, we got carried away, and we’re sorry.”

“Done,” he agrees. “Oh, and one other thing. Let’s keep where we were between us. I’ve purposely let everyone think my preferred escape is the Tyler Hotel chain. Nobody but my agent knows about the Four Seasons thing. And definitely not about the Mr. Belvedere alias.”

“Oh!” Surprise makes my voice higher than normal. I try to play it cool. “Sure, of course not. Our secret.”

Before I can overthink what it means that he’s let me see a part of his life that he normally keeps private, I’m marching toward my doom. Or at least it feels like that.

Gage and I walk side by side toward the front door, and I make a fist to keep from reaching for his hand.

Before he opens the door, he turns back to me, his eyes drifting over my face. “They’ll think it’s odd. That we ran away together and then I send you home the next ceremony.”

I wave this away. “Eh, I wouldn’t worry about it. They ask you afterward why you send the women home, right? Just say that while you and I clicked at first, after spending more time together, it became increasingly apparent that we weren’t compatible.”

He lifts his eyebrows. “So. Lie?”

“Sort of. I guess it’s lucky you’re a talented actor, right?”

Gage exhales. “Sure. Right.”

Neither of us moves to open the door, and I have the fierce urge to throw my arms around him and beg him to whisk me away to someplace where we can hide out as Mr. and Mrs. Belvedere forever.

Instead, he reaches out and opens the door.

I thought I was prepared.

But what awaits us is so much worse than I ever expected.