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“I want something serious,” Sienna said. “I want to be able to have fun with them, I want us to have the same goals, and they need to be someone I can introduce to my mum. And they should be someone she actually likes this time . . . haven’t been great on that front.”
“What color are we wearing, Si?” He raised his voice so she could hear him, and without hesitation, Sienna responded. “Red!” Femi glanced down at the shirts in his hands—yellow, green palm leaf, pink, blue—and swore softly enough that only Cas could hear him, before turning on his heel. “All right, lads, anyone got a red shirt I can borrow?”
“If you hadn’t acted like such a fucking whore, Ada, then I wouldn’t be angry!” Femi, Jayden, and Leo were all instantly on their feet, their weights long since forgotten, and Cas was already halfway across the grass when the Voice of God crackled to life. “Brad—report to the beach hut immediately.”
“After everything—and I didn’t even want to be with him! I was only still partnered with him because they told me I should give him a chance—” The words were barely out of Ada’s mouth when the Voice of God spoke again. And, unfortunately, they weren’t announcing Brad’s immediate removal from the villa. “Ada—please report to the beach hut.”
“What did they say?” Ada exhaled shakily. “He’s been taken out front to cool down. He has to talk to someone, a production therapist or something, but he’ll be back in an hour or so.” “They’re not kicking him out?!” Ada shook her head. “They said he didn’t actually hurt anyone, so they didn’t think it fair to remove him. Apparently he’s ‘extremely remorseful.’ ”
If the producers weren’t going to do anything about it, Cas sure as shit was, and to her delight, most of the boys were more than happy to help. Femi, Leo, and even Reece, after a bit of roasting from Tia, volunteered to serve as “bouncers,” and they guarded the dressing room door as the girls got ready that morning. They’d rigged fake earpieces out of their microphone wires, and spent their time pretending to talk to one another over them as Leo did the morning coffee and pastry run. For an extra bit of flair, he’d delivered the coffees on a platter with a towel draped over his arm and, after
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“Femi’s a softie,” Sienna said. She was still smiling, but there was a warmth to it that made it clear it was more than just a joke. “You’ve made him even softer,” Ada said. Sienna snorted. “Girl, I fucking hope not.”
“ ‘Freddie, you must choose one couple to leave the villa tonight. Any of the couples sitting in front of you are eligible to be eliminated. You have one minute to make your decision. Good luck.’ Good luck—are you fucking serious?” Freddie scraped his hand through his hair.