Thirty minutes later I’m showered, dressed, hair braided and SPF on, just in time. A knock on my door and a harried Lulu calls through it. “You’re late, Ren. You were meant to be on set ten minutes ago.”
“Sorry,” I yank open the door and am greeted by the producer’s disapproving gaze sliding over my body.
“You don’t want to wear something else? Maybe something that shows a bit more skin? A bikini or a swimsuit, perhaps?”
I look down at my yoga pants and sports bra, my uniform during the day on the show so far. If I’m honest I would love to swim. It sounds refreshing as hell in the heat, but to swim I’d need to show off the mangled mess of my knee. Taking a dip in the chlorinated water or the ocean just doesn’t seem worth the probing question that would raise. Not just from the pack, but also from the producers.
“No, I’m good.”
“What about those linen pants at least? The ones you arrived in?”
I arch my brows. “Is something happening today that I need to know about? A reason for me to dress sexier than normal?”
Her lips press tight together. “That outfit is a tragedy.”
I roll my eyes. “Fine, I’ll change.”
“Skin, Florence. Show some fucking skin. And hurry.”
Ten minutes later, I’m stepping onto the pool deck wearing a long skirt and a lacy white cropped tank top that shows a large swath of my torso. Lulu had been displeased when she saw me. When she said skin, what she meant waslegs.
But we were already running late and so she hurried me away from my cabana and to the set. “Do I have time to eat?” I ask, scanning the groups clustered together. Petal and Tristan are lounging on a set of deck chairs on the other side of the pool and they wave at me. I lift my hand in response.
“I’ll have someone on the resort staff bring you something after. We need to get started.” My stomach rumbles unhappily, but I wouldn’t trade the full night of uninterrupted sleep for anything.
My eyes snag on Courtland, sitting with Odette, but there’s a six inch space between them that wouldn’t have been there a few days ago. He smiles when he sees me looking, a sneaky little thing that to anyone looking would tell them he thinks he’s gotten away with something.
Movement out of the corner of my eye draws my attention to Piers, making his way over to me. I smile at the sight of him because I can’t help myself. He grins back, chin ducking toward his chest as he runs a hand through his hair and grips the back of his neck. “Morning, sunshine,” he murmurs when he gets close, the back of his other hand brushing against mine. Just that, nothing else, before he’s bypassing me to go to… Forsythe.
Who has, no doubt, been watching all of this, and is deciding to send me home as a result.
I offer the prince a tight smile and turn away as the crew herds us to the newest set on the green space by the beach.
The setup is one I’ve seen before, on countless seasons of Alpha Love Getaway. A black board with a grid already on it, The names of the omegas along the left hand side, The alphas across the top.
The kissing challenge.
I knew this was coming, Forsythe gave me a list of the upcoming games. But I’d somehow managed to block the reality. That I would have to stand by and watch every omega here kiss my pack.
Not your pack, Ren. Never your pack.
“Here,” one of the PAs mutters, thrusting a muffin into my hand, followed by a banana. “Thayer wants you to eat before we get started.”
My brows jump as my eyes search out the alpha in question, only to find him chatting with Isadora, her hand resting on his forearm and smoothing back and forth over the muscles there. Her touch is familiar, and he doesn’t seem to mind it.
Any hunger I’d been feeling vanishes.
Thayer glances up, just as I push the food back to the PA. “I’ll wait.” When it looks like he’s going to protest, I smile. “I don’t want to do this challenge with crumbs in my teeth. That would be… gross.”
And it actually would be. I can’t imagine they’ll give me a chance to brush my teeth again before we start kissing.
With a muttered curse, the harried crew member takes the food back. “If he gets mad about it, I’m blaming you.”
“Blame away.” But I don’t think he will be.
Or maybe I’m wrong if the glare he’s pointing in my direction is any sign.
I arch my brows and shrug, before turning my back on him, and finding my mark on the grass between Petal and Tristan. The omegas line up across from the alphas. They each have abox in front of them that we will undoubtedly use to reach their mouths, and a blindfold in their hands.
