Chapter 382
Chapter 382:
“Crystal clear, sir,” Gordon squeaked.
Alistair hung up.
It wasn’t enough. A phone call was a thread; he needed a chain.
“Felix,” Alistair said calmly.
Felix appeared at the door. “Boss p>
“Prepare the jet.” Alistair stood, grabbing a black duffel bag from under his desk.
“Sir,” Felix warned, checking his tablet. “That’s a closed set. The airspace is restricted. If we fly in, they’ll sue us. Or shoot us p>
“I don’t care about lawsuits,” Alistair said, walking out. “And I don’t care about international airspace treaties. If anyone asks, we had mechanical failure and were forced to divert p>
He didn’t slow.
“She’s alone with him. And her phone is dead. We’re going p>
Back on the island, night had fallen. The humid air was thick with crickets and the distant crash of waves. The cast gathered in the main living area—four other couples, all looking equally uncomfortable.
“First challenge!” the host announced. “Roommate assignment p>
Skye crossed her arms. Please not Liam. Please not Liam.
“The producers have decided based on… chemistry,” the host said with a grin. “Skye and Liam. You get the honeymoon suite p>
Of course. It was rigged.
Skye glared at the camera lens, breaking the fourth wall with pure venom. Liam looked down, hiding a small, secret smile.
They walked to the suite. It was isolated from the main house, perched on the edge of the cliff.
Skye opened the door.
It was beautiful. Candles. Rose petals. A view of the ocean.
And one bed.
A massive king-sized bed, but still. One bed.
Skye stopped in the doorway. “You have got to be kidding me p>
“I’ll take the floor,” Liam offered quickly, raising his hands in surrender. “I swear. I’ll sleep on the rug p>
𝗪eе𝗸l𝘆 𝗿𝘦𝗹𝗲𝖺𝘴𝗲𝘀 оո 𝗯𝘦.c𝗈𝗆
“You have a bad leg,” Skye pointed out, walking in and throwing her bag onto the sofa. “You can’t sleep on the floor p>
“Then… we share?” Liam asked, hope creeping into his voice.
Skye turned to him. Her eyes were cold.
“We share nothing,” she said.
She grabbed the pillows from the bed. She grabbed the cushions from the sofa. She started building a wall down the center of the mattress, a physical fortification.
“This side is Switzerland,” Skye declared. “This side is Mordor. You stay in Mordor p>
Liam sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Skye, please. Can we just… exist p>
“No,” Skye said, turning off the lamp. “Go to sleep, Liam. Tomorrow is going to be hell p>
Outside, high above the clouds, a black Gulfstream jet sliced through the night sky, banking south toward the equator.
Day two on the island began with a megaphone siren at 6:00 a.m.
“Wakey wakey, ex-lovers p>
Skye groaned, burying her face in the pillow. For a second, she forgot where she was. She reached out, expecting Alistair’s solid warmth. Instead, her hand hit a wall of cushions.
Reality crashed back in. Liam was snoring softly on the other side of the pillow barrier.
She kicked the cushions off the bed. “Get up, Liam p>
The morning challenge was titled “Couple’s Cooking.” It was designed to start fights. The kitchen was cramped, the ingredients were unlabeled, and the time limit was sadistic.