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Then, I’ll go home, get my life together, and move on.

My bags are waiting for me inside the door, but I barely glance in their direction as I take in the beautiful little house. To my right, a cozy sitting area, complete with two bookcases filled with books. I’ll be checking those out later. To my left, French doors that lead to the bedroom with attached bath.

Straight ahead is the kitchen and dining area. White marble countertops and stainless-steel appliances. A cute high-top, bar-style table that seats two. My favorite accessory, the wine rack, already filled with three bottles of red. When I open the fridge, I see they’ve stocked it for me. Complete with everything on my list, including the almond milk I requested.

Gathering my bags, I tug them into the master bedroom. It’s the biggest room in the villa, but that’s not saying much. Everything is color coordinated in mint green, white, and gray, a combination I wouldn’t have put together myself but is rather soothing. The oversized king bed takes up most of the space, flanked on either side by a nightstand. One dresser and a cute armchair and ottoman complete the look of the room.

After I finish unpacking and change into something more comfortable, I grab my phone and dial Naomi’s number as I settle on the sofa. She picks up after the first ring, clearly irritated that I haven’t called sooner.

She was sure I wouldn’t get on the plane, so she escorted me to the airport and waited outside security until I boarded, keeping me on the phone the entire time. I was supposed to call her when I landed, but I was escorted away before my phone even turned back on and I didn’t want to talk to her while there was a camera watching my every move.

“Did you expect me to call you with a camera in my face?” I ask, reminding her of the conversation we had this morning on the way to the airport. She requested that I not mention her if there’s a camera present. With her job as a schoolteacher, she’d hate for someone to misconstrue the situation and compromise her position. I get it. They all think she’s sweet and caring and the nicest person on the planet, which she can be. She works with eight-year-olds. She has to be viewed that way.

If they only knew what goes through her head sometimes...

“Whatever. You made it. That’s all that matters. Now what?” she retorts, brushing my comment off. “What’s it like? Have you met anyone else yet?”

After I give her the rundown of my arrival and being whisked away abruptly, I tell her about the cute little villa I’m staying in. She insists on pictures, which I promise her only after I read through my contract. It was made clear when I signed a confidentiality agreement that we were not allowed to post anything on social media about the show until after the finale had aired.

I get it. They don’t want us to give anything away. I’m just not sure if that includes the living quarters or not. Sending her a picture of the bedroom isn’t going to ruin anything for anyone. Not in my opinion at least.

After letting Naomi go, I take a few snapshots and pull out the paperwork I was given. It’s at least fifty pages of fine print I need to read through. On top of the stack is our schedule for this week. Under today, it lists the arrival time of every contestant, which villa we’ve been assigned, and the only scheduled event which is our first meeting tonight. There’s still a lot about the show I don’t know, so I have a feeling they’ll be filling us in then.

Seeing that I wasn’t the first to arrive, I set the stack of papers aside, some light reading for later, and head to see if I can find Jace, the only other person who should be here right now. As I’m about to pull open the whitewashed door, someone knocks, startling me.

My gut tells me to look through the peephole before opening it, but there isn’t one. Even though no one is allowed in the compound if they’re not part of the production team or a contestant, I still want to know who’s on the other side, so I pull back the sheer curtains and glance out the window.

Tall, maybe early twenties like me. I can barely see his face from this angle. He has dark-brown hair that’s longer on top but shaved close on the sides. Five o’clock shadow that looks natural on him. He appears relaxed in his dark-wash jeans and gray T-shirt.

His lack of an ID badge hanging around his neck tells me he doesn’t work for the studio, which can only mean one thing. Another contestant.

When I open the door, I come face to face with stunning green eyes and a chiseled jawline. He’s at least five inches taller than me and one-hundred-percent sex appeal.

This is the kind of man that can make a woman weak in her knees with one glance. A smile. A single compliment.

“Jace,” he says, a huge panty-melting smile on his face as he thrusts his hand in my direction. When I don’t take it, he slowly lets it fall to his side and runs his other hand through his hair, brushing it back.

“Presley,” I finally say, my name coming out stuttered. Pa-pa-res-lee.

“It’s nice to meet you. Can I?” he asks, motioning behind me.

He wants to come in. Is that allowed?

“I don’t know. Did you read the paperwork they gave us? Are you allowed in here?”

His smile widens, watching me as I mentally freak out about being alone with him. “It doesn’t say I can’t.” When I don’t invite him in, he motions for me to follow him, and without giving it a second thought, I do, falling in step with him as we walk past the villas and toward the main house.

“Where are you from, Presley?” he asks, taking a sharp right at the last villa and walking up a set of stairs. As we reach the top, the strong smell of chlorine hits me.

“St. Louis. What about you?”

“Miami,” he notes as he opens the gate to the pool area for me, ushering me through.

It’s beautiful. There are lounge chairs along both sides of the large oval-shaped pool. Two cabanas on the far end next to the hot tub that looks like it’s big enough to fit ten people in it, if not more. The water is crystal clear, and it makes me want to dip my toes to test how warm it is.

“So why are you here?” he asks as I take a seat on the closest lounger, leaning back and closing my eyes, relishing the feeling of the mid-afternoon sun on my face.

It’s quiet right now, but that’s about to change. The next person is going to arrive soon, and then the next, until all twelve of us are here. Once we’re assembled, things are going to get loud, I’m sure. I’ve seen enough of these types of shows to know there’s always a few crazy ones in every bunch.

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