9781405957694

PRAISE FOR ELLE EVERHART

“[A] perfect summer read— plenty of sexy enemies-to-lovers tension and enough immersive travel descriptions to feel like you got a whirlwind vacation, too.”

— Reader’s Digest

“Wanderlust will hit that sweet spot for those who are craving something fun with some more profound moments and a slow-burn romance that will have you wanting until the very last page. . . . [A] fun romp for those looking to travel within their book.” — Culturess

“Debut writer Everhart crafts complex characters with welldeveloped backgrounds and plenty of entertaining banter. . . . Set against the backdrop of gorgeous international locales, this slow- burn rom- com will appeal to fans of travel and social media story lines as well as the forced proximity trope.”

— Library Journal (starred review)

“[A] sparkling debut . . . Everhart’s layered characters leap off the page, and the no-nonsense approach to both Dylan’s abortion and her sexuality is refreshing. Far- flung backdrops— including Marrakech, Reykjavík, and Tokyo— add to the fun. Everhart is a writer to watch.”

— Publishers Weekly

“From the first page, I was all in for this thoughtful, thrilling, and romantic trip around the world. Everhart’s writing is both light and cinematic, tying the reader’s heartbeat to every moment of Dylan and Jack’s love story.”

— Annabel Monaghan, author of Nora Goes O Script

“Wanderlust is an absolutely stunning rom- com debut! Elle Everhart masterfully crafts a heartfelt and adorable love story while also delving into complex family relationships and seriously relatable real-life issues. On top of characters I immediately fell in love with, the book takes us on a gorgeous trip around the world— I was left with major travel envy! This romance had me smiling the entire time, even through my tears. Elle Everhart is a writer to watch!”

— Falon Ballard, author of Just My Type

“Elle Everhart more than delivers with a sparkling voice, mastery of craft, and character chemistry that sizzles off the page, all while unpacking the timely and critical topic of reproductive justice. Carefree yet complex Dylan and adorably uptight cinnamon roll Jack stole my heart and swept me around the world in this cinematic, immersive, steamy dream of a ride!”

— Courtney Kae, author of In the Event of Love

“Elle Everhart’s debut is laugh- out- loud funny, sizzling hot, and full of heart. Jack and Dylan are undeniable proof that opposites do attract, and following them around the world is the great escape we all need right now!”

— Jenny L. Howe, author of The Make-Up Test and On the Plus Side

“Elle Everhart’s Wanderlust is perfect for anyone who’s longed to travel the globe seeking love, adventure, and even themselves. This is a soaring escapist romance that unpacks timely real- life issues and reminds us that trusting your own heart can lead to destinations unknown and unforgettable, that going away means coming back, and that the best journeys are in memories, not miles. Wanderlust is a book to be whisked away and enjoyed in a sun- drenched somewhere.”

— Lillie Vale, author of The Decoy Girlfriend and The Shaadi Set-Up

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Elle Everhart writes romantic comedies featuring the internet, sarcasm and lots of queer characters (especially bisexual characters because I, too, cuff my jeans and can’t properly sit in chairs). Elle lives in East London and works as a secondary English teacher. When she’s not writing, you’ll catch Elle watching a whole lot of YouTube, obsessing over the worst shows Netfl ix has to offer and hanging around with her son.

Hot Summer

ALSO BY ELLE EVERHART

Wanderlust

Hot Summer A Novel

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First published in the United States of America by G. P. Putnam’s Sons, an imprint of Penguin Random House 2024

First published in Great Britain by Penguin Michael Joseph 2024 001

Copyright © Elle Everhart, 2024

The moral right of the author has been asserted

Interior art: Heart float © BudOlga / Shutterstock Book design by Alison Cnockaert

Printed and bound in Great Britain by Clays Ltd, Elcograf S.p.A.

The authorized representative in the EEA is Penguin Random House Ireland, Morrison Chambers, 32 Nassau Street, Dublin D02 YH68

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

ISBN: 978–1–405–95769–4 www.greenpenguin.co.uk

Penguin Random Hous e is committed to a sustainable future for our business , our readers and our planet. is book is made from Forest Stewardship Council® certified paper

To Emmet, whom I love more than anything. And to you— thank you for reading. x

It’s hard here in paradise.

—“Sideways,” Carly Rae Jepsen

Hot Summer

1THERE WAS NOTHING quite like stumbling into the o ce still half- drunk from the night before.

Cas had chewed an entire pack of gum on the way in that morning but, as a quick breath test in the lift up to her o ce con rmed, last night’s gin was still very much present on her breath. And coupled with the, well, artful way her eyeliner was smudged under her eyes, she looked like she’d rolled out of the sewer before dragging herself to work.

In her defense, this wasn’t Cas’s usual commute. It was rare that she had to be in this early after a late-night event, and Cas would never have let herself drink so much if she’d known she was going to have to be here at this ungodly hour. And she especially wouldn’t have drunk so much if she’d known she was going to be in a meeting with their chief marketing o cer.

In typical Robert fashion, though, he’d only felt the need to text her and request this god-awful eight a.m. meeting at nine last night when she was already ve drinks deep.

Because he was nothing if not considerate.

And, all right, she shouldn’t be drinking that heavily on the

job, but it was the only thing that helped her pretend these dating events for Friday, the premier dating-app company she worked for, had anything to o er her these days. She could only host awkward singles mixers and talk to the same carboncopy people about their very particular interests for so many nights in a row before she wanted to go lie down in the middle of the motorway and hope for the best.

Cas leaned forward and examined her re ection in the lift doors. She’d genuinely tried to make herself look presentable this morning, had even borrowed some of her roommate Aisha’s vitamin C serum in a last- ditch attempt to brighten things up, but you would never know it by looking at her now. Her skin was sallow, dry; her mascara and eyeliner had refused to come o when she’d cleansed, hence the smudging; and her eyes looked like they were trying to retreat into her skull. She’d chugged a sports drink on the tube, but she was also halfway through an iced co ee, which was probably not doing anything to help her debilitating dehydration.

“Fuck,” Cas muttered. She might have just been happy that she was able to show up here so early in the rst place (gin stench, dry mouth, and all), but there had been something . . . suspicious about Robert’s message after she agreed to the meeting. Something that told Cas she needed her wits about her this morning.

21:34

Robert: Great! If you could refrain from mentioning the meeting to anyone, I’d appreciate it. Talk tomorrow.

The fact that he had asked her not to let anyone know, not even her direct supervisor, had set o immediate alarm bells in Cas’s head. She’d had to order herself another gin to keep from immediately texting Skye, her closest friend at work and her second roommate, to overanalyze it. The only solution, at that point, had been to hope she’d drink so much that she’d forget.

A solution she was clearly regretting now.

Cas scrubbed some eyeliner o with her index nger before slashing open the zipper on her crossbody bag. She unearthed her lip balm and swiped a thick coat across her lips as the lift oated to a stop on the ninth oor.

The lift opened onto a small lobby, little more than a reception desk and a pair of armchairs in Friday’s signature purple. They’d left the standard concrete on the oor— seemingly an aesthetic choice, although Cas couldn’t imagine that Friday would have been able to a ord anything other than the bare minimum in the early days— but there had been concerted e orts to warm it up since they’d moved into this space six years ago. Cas hadn’t been here then, they’d moved into this building about a year before she joined and started running their live events, but she could only imagine what this place must have looked like without all the rugs and plants and soft touches their receptionist and general genius, Jana, had added.

Jana smiled as Cas stepped o the lift. “Morning, Cas.” Her gaze icked quickly over Cas, probably taking in the way she was practically dragging her body behind her as she walked. “Looks like you had fun last night.”

Cas laughed, though it sounded more like someone had

thrown gravel into a blender. “You know how much I love First Date, Speed Date night.”

“I need to go to one of those at some point,” Jana said. The phone started ringing and she turned toward it slowly. “My single life is, like, fucking tragic.” Jana paused. “Thank you for calling Friday, how may I direct your call?”

“That makes two of us,” Cas whispered as she unearthed her ID card and tapped it onto the reader on Jana’s desk to sign in for the day. Jana turned her head away from the receiver to laugh.

“Of course. Hold, please.” She clicked a few buttons on the phone before dropping the receiver back onto the base. “Don’t talk to me about tragic,” Jana said, rolling her eyes. “You’ve got a new person on your arm every week.”

Cas attempted a smile, but the tightening around her eyes made her feel like her gesture probably looked less amused and more . . . unsafe to be around.

“Well, someone’s got to make sure the scrubs we recruit are worth our time.”

Jana barked a laugh and lifted her mug o her desk with a ourish. “You’re too much.”

“That’s what they tell me. Hey, do you know if Robert is in his o ce?”

“Haven’t seen him this morning, but let me check the system,” Jana said. “Sometimes he likes to sneak in.”

She took a sip of her tea and started rapidly tapping her mouse with her free hand, her eyes scanning the screen for a few seconds before she clicked her tongue. “Yup. He’s here— must have shown up while I was putting the kettle on.”

“Perfect.” The sooner she got this meeting over with, the better. “Thanks, Jana.”

“Of course.” Jana ashed a wink. “I hope the meeting goes well.”

“I— What do you know?”

“Nothing you won’t know in about ten minutes. Now go, you’re going to be late.”

There was no sense pressing Jana for more. Cas had worked with her long enough to know that Jana said exactly as much or as little as she was ever going to. Cas half waved and walked o into the o ce, slinging her ID badge around her neck as she went.

The o ce was quiet for eight in the morning— most of the events team tended to arrive around eleven or even later if they were out on location organizing some details for whatever they had going on that evening, but the day sta were numerous, about a half dozen other departments in all. It was still a little before eight, so Cas supposed most people would be rolling in over the next hour or so, but it was almost apocalyptic, how silent the o ce was at the moment. The few people she did see were wearing large over- ear headphones and typing quietly on their keyboards, and honestly, Cas was jealous of them, in spite of the early hour.

She’d do anything to hide in her music and clack away on her keyboard every day and get paid for it. Her eardrums would certainly thank her if she started spending less time a meter away from pub speakers, and it would be nice, for once, to switch o . To work without having to plaster some big smile on her face and act like the sun shone out her arse.

ELLE EVERHART

Where most everyone at Friday worked at long, open tables, the executive o ces were private, tucked away in the corner and lined with gorgeous windows. A few years back, they’d built a partial brick wall to separate the executive suites from the main oor, and it deadened whatever sound there was as Cas walked into the assistant bay outside the o ces.

Robert’s assistant, Colby, was sitting, as he always was, at his desk, and he smiled perfunctorily as he nished typing. “Go on through. I’ve let Robert know you’re here.”

“Thanks.” Cas took another long, bracing sip of her iced co ee and opened Robert’s door. And promptly squinted into the too- bright sunlight shining through his windows. It felt like someone was pointing a laser directly into her retinas.

“Ah, Cas.” Robert was smiling, but there was no trace of warmth in his voice. “Good morning. I hope the hour isn’t too early for you.”

“No, not at all.” They both knew Cas was lying through her teeth but neither of them challenged it.

“Well, good,” Robert said, his eyes still on his computer screen as Cas sat down on the hard purple chair opposite his desk. “Because there are some big things I’d like to talk with you about.”

That couldn’t be good.

“Oh?”

Robert turned in his chair so he was nally facing her. “I have a proposition for you.”

Robert tented his long ngers in front of his face, his glasses halfway down his nose so he could stare at Cas over the rims, the way he always did when he was trying to be particularly scary at their all-team marketing meetings.

It was an expression that was, unfortunately, highly e ective. Robert’s blue eyes were famously like ice. Sharp and unfeeling and deadly, like those meter- long icicles that fell o roofs in Norway and impaled people.

“Okay?” Cas had long since learned not to try to anticipate where things were going where Robert was concerned. He often had very di erent ideas about what was reasonable or, hell, even feasible.

“You may have already heard, but the exec team has recently been talking about developing . . . closer ties with some big media properties.”

She had heard, funnily enough. Not a lot, just a passing comment one of the higher-up assistants made in the break room, about how much work scheduling was “now that we’re trying to get TV execs on board.” Cas hadn’t really thought anything about it at the time; these things hardly ever mattered to events. They were much lower in the o ce hierarchy despite the fact that their work was what kept the lights on.

“I’ve heard whispers,” Cas admitted.

Robert nodded sagely. “I gured. Though I’m sure those whispers were far from thorough, so for clarity’s sake . . .” Robert grabbed a stack of papers from the corner of his desk and ipped it around with a ourish. There was a ow chart— no, an organizational chart— for some new marketing integration division and . . . holy hell.

“I’m on here.” Cas pointed at her name, there at the top of the page. With more than a dozen people reporting to her.

“You are.” Robert sounded like he might’ve been talking to a child, but Cas couldn’t bring herself to be bothered about his tone. “We’ve seen the work you’ve been doing in events and

we’ve been impressed. We all agreed that it’s about time we give you a new challenge.”

In a million years, Cas would never have expected to hear these words out of Robert’s mouth. She knew that she was working hard— she advertised the hell out of every single dating event she ran— but it was always thankless. Something she was expected to do, not something she was going to be celebrated for. And certainly not rewarded.

All the rejected internal job applications she’d put through over the years were more than enough evidence of that.

“So, I— ” She felt like her brain was short- circuiting. “I would report to you?”

“As CMO, yes. You’d be the direct line to the executive level from this new o ce along with Kaya— it’s not quite reected here, but we’re merging print with digital, so Kaya will still have control of that side of things.” Robert was studying her carefully, reading every micro-reaction on Cas’s face. She should probably try to contain her excitement— she was certain this o er must have a thousand strings tied to it— but she was too tired. Too hungover.

“We’re still working on the nal org chart, so if you’ve got feedback on that, we’d love to hear it.”

“Of course.” Cas unzipped her bag and extracted a pen from the depths, and wrote a small note, feedback, with a tick box at the very top of the page.

“Before we get too far ahead of ourselves, though, we should talk about one more thing.”

Cas’s pen froze. “Okay.”

“Broadcast is an entirely new venture for us. We want to make sure that we move seamlessly into that space.” Robert

grabbed another packet of papers o his desk and handed it to Cas. “And we thought it would make perfect sense to start with one of the most popular properties on television.”

Hot Summer was scrawled across the top of the packet in big bold letters, and Cas’s brows furrowed.

“The dating show? Is the idea that people watch Hot Summer, get depressed with their own tragic lives, and then download our app?” She chuckled— it was absurd, surely not their plan, but—

Robert laughed, the sound needles on Cas’s skin. “In essence. But we thought, for this rst year, we could get a little more . . . creative. See what we could do with these new broadcast partnerships.”

Ominous.

“Meaning?”

“We want to send one of the Friday sta onto the show this year,” Robert said. “Test out a more organic marketing opportunity. And we think you’re the perfect candidate.”

Cas heard Robert perfectly clearly. Technically understood the words as soon as he said them. But still, something wasn’t clicking. Surely he wasn’t saying what she thought he was saying.

“What?”

“For starters, I know you’re a fan of the program. That sort of familiarity will serve you well. But more important, you’ve spent the last ve years running a majority of our late-night dating events. You’ve been in more social scenes than I think most people will be in their entire lives. And I get glowing review after glowing review from clients who tell me you made their night memorable, and they’re excited about their future romantic prospects.”

Cas might’ve been happy to hear the compliment if it wasn’t so easy to impress people on these nights out. They were drunk for one thing, giddy from spending time with people who might be interested in having sex with them for another, and even if all that failed, Cas knew she could be incredibly charming. She’d spent years cultivating the perfect persona—not-so-a ectionately labeled Friday Cas among her friends— to ensure that everyone had a good time at these events. Friday Cas was bubbly, fun, always ordering drinks for the table, and the rst to propose a scheme that was equal parts sexy and playful. She was seemingly open in a way that got other people to talk to one another, and she was an expert at spotting chemistry. At convincing people to give someone a shot, to see what happened, to let love take them

Cas raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I’ll want to explore my own romantic prospects. And especially not on live television.”

Frankly, an extended event she could do— send her o on a weekend somewhere, she’d be able to swing it— but the live television piece was immediately more nerve-wracking than Cas would ever be willing to admit. She was obsessed with Hot Summer. She watched it every year and wasn’t the least bit embarrassed about how she followed the ups and downs of the relationships, the wild highs and lows that this type of program loved. She knew all too well the way that the show twisted people around. Made perfectly happy people unravel for the entire country to see.

It was excellent television, but not exactly something Cas wanted to subject herself to.

“You don’t have to make a genuine romantic connection,”

Robert said, dismissing her concerns with a wave. “I know you haven’t exactly been interested in getting seriously involved with anyone, so we’re not going to pressure you on that front.”

Cas’s brows furrowed. “How do you know that?”

Robert leaned back in his chair, his imperious expression slightly hampered by the feeble creak of the springs as he tilted too far back and swiftly tried to right himself. “I’ve heard whispers.”

Oh Christ. Cas could only imagine the things he’d heard over the years. Especially because, once she and Skye became friends, Cas tended to care more about the entertainment value of her storytelling than whether anyone was listening in.

She crossed her arms. “And these whispers were enough to convince you that I should spend all summer lounging around a villa in a bikini?”

“These whispers were enough to convince me that you had the right skills for the job.”

“I— ”

“If you ip to page three, you’ll see a more detailed outline of our proposal. Take some time to read it, but do it quickly.” Robert ipped through his own packet and jabbed his index nger at the page. “If you agree to go on as a contestant, you’ll be installed as the new head of our marketing integration division when you’re back at the end of the summer. In return, we expect that you maintain a professional image as much as possible—we’ve outlined speci c lines in the contract, I know there’s quite a bit of . . . suggestive behavior on the show, so we’ve been exible in our expectations. We want future partnering between the show and Friday to feel natural, so become someone that the viewers like, that they trust—and, of course, make it to the show’s nale.”

“The nale?”

Fucking hell. He was trying to make this impossible.

“The research we’ve done has shown that people who make it to the Hot Summer nals bring with them huge opportunities for brand integration. You’ve already cultivated a social media following— albeit, a modest one— and we think that that, coupled with the following you’d get from a successful run on Hot Summer, will make you an ideal candidate for brand opportunities. You can leverage those connections to help grow this new division and use your new following to advertise Friday’s services. A win-win.”

Cas was loath to admit it, but it actually made some sense the more she thought about it. People lucky enough to be wellliked on this show saw an absolute explosion in their social media by the time they walked out of the villa, enough that they were able to coast on the collaborations with fast-fashion brands and protein- shake companies for at least a few years afterward. Those who really leveraged it were able to completely turn their lives around and build a career, but with this job Robert was practically handing her? She wouldn’t even have to worry about turning her following into an income stream. Not in the same desperate way as everyone else.

“Yeah, okay.” Fuck it. She wanted something new, and this was certainly that. “I’ll review everything and get back to you, but let’s do it.”

A month later, after several interviews, planning meetings, and one very long psych evaluation, Cas got the nal email con rmation from Hot Summer ’s production team. She was o cially in.

Hot

Summer 2024 Cast: Meet the lovers who are going to keep this summer

SCORCHING

The offi cial Hot Summer cast lineup is here and holy HELL. This summer is looking even hotter than ever. With the lovers set to storm into the villa on Sunday night, this year in gorgeous Cyprus, let’s get to know who we’ll be watching get down and dirty all summer long.

ADA HALL

Age: 28

Hometown: Brighton

Occupation: Small Business Owner

@adahall

Why she’s looking for a Hot Summer: “I’m ready to have some fun this summer. And if I meet ‘the one’ along the way, that’s even better!”

CAS MORGAN

Age: 29

Hometown: London

Occupation: Event Planner

@casmorgan

Why she’s looking for a Hot Summer: “I’ve been dating pretty casually for a few years, but it’s time

I settle down. No better way to do that than spending time in a gorgeous villa for eight weeks!”

LEXI YOUNG

Age: 21

Hometown: Essex

Occupation: Influencer

@lexxxiyoung

Why she’s looking for a Hot Summer: “I’m fun and flirty, and I’m very down for a super hot summer!”

MADDISON FULLER

Age: 23

Hometown: Newcastle

Occupation: Bar Staff

@maddifulls

Why she’s looking for a Hot Summer: “My dating history is actually embarrassing, so when I got the chance to have a great time and possibly fi nd love? I knew I had to go.”

SIENNA BRICE

Age: 26

Hometown: London

Occupation: Case Worker

@siennabricex

Why she’s looking for a Hot Summer: “My job can have its serious moments, and I’m looking to let loose! I also haven’t had a proper boyfriend in ages, so . . .”

BRAD STANNARD

Age: 23

Hometown: Leeds

Occupation: Estate Agent

@bradstantheman

Why he’s looking for a Hot Summer: “I’m single, so I fi gured why not? You’re only young once, right? Plus, girls love me, so I don’t think I can go wrong here.”

CHARLIE SIMS

Age: 25

Hometown: Hull

Occupation: Scaffolder

@charlie.sims

Why he’s looking for a Hot Summer: “I’m trying to be more open to different experiences, and this is definitely a really different experience!”

FEMI ABIOLA

Age: 27

Hometown: Birmingham

ELLE EVERHART

Occupation: Pharmacist

@femiabiola

Why he’s looking for a Hot Summer: “I want to find my soulmate. That probably sounds foolish, but I am so ready for love.”

JAYDEN CHAMBERS

Age: 20

Hometown: Manchester

Occupation: Electrician

@jaydenxchambers

Why he’s looking for a Hot Summer: “I’m searching for that special spark.”

REECE SIMMONS

Age: 21

Hometown: Essex

Occupation: Footballer

@reecesimmonsofficial

Why he’s looking for a Hot Summer: “I’m hoping to meet a girl I can bring home to Mum, but, if nothing else, I’m hoping I’ll have a good time.”

We’ve got a really exciting mix this summer—even with a few older cast members than we’ve had in previous series. Maybe the producers are fi nally hearing our cries?? (Though, next summer, get us

at least two older men!) Fingers crossed everyone on this summer’s cast manages to find their perfect One . . . and that they bring us all the drama along the way!

Hot Summer premieres on RealTV on June 10 at 9 P.M.

CAS’S ARSE WAS going to be stuck to this leather seat. Probably permanently.

It was (arguably) her fault for deciding to wear bikini bottoms that covered absolutely nothing, but she’d also been asked to take o her shorts the moment she’d gotten into the car.

As though her denim shorts were going to be visible to the audience while she was sitting in the back seat.

The driver currently navigating along the steep, gravelstrewn road that wound up to the Cypriot villa where Cas and at least nine other strangers would be living this summer had spent the last ten minutes ignoring Cas’s pointed questions about the decision to have her half-naked in the back of the Jeep (unprotected, as she’d last put it, from the stray pebbles ying in through the open top). She was starting to think he was hoping she would just stop asking.

“My arse is going to be so red,” Cas said, the words almost a threat. She tipped her hips to one side, the sticky sound of her skin separating from the hot leather lling the silence.

The driver sighed, his hands skimming over the wheel as

he guided them into another turn. Cas waited for a minute, two, but the driver remained silent.

He should consider a job for MI6. He was probably very good at keeping secrets.

The car began to slow as it crested the hill, a few hundred meters away from the enormous modern villa that was Cas’s new home. The front of the villa was lined with windows that re ected bright blue sky, and the winding tan gravel path gave way to a low- lying wooden walkway lined with fairy lights. Cas had just opened her mouth to ask why they were stopping when the front passenger door opened and Chloe, the show’s main producer, climbed in.

Chloe’s long blond hair was pulled up into a ponytail that rivaled Ariana Grande’s. She was wearing a slightly too dark shock of blush across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose, and her lips were shiny and plump with gloss. She reminded Cas of the girls she’d picked up o the oor of the Spoons bathroom at her nal Friday event last week before jetting o .

“Okay.” Chloe popped her gum, eyes scanning her clipboard. “Cassandra, right?”

“Cas,” Cas said automatically.

“Right.” Chloe scratched out Cassandra on her clipboard and wrote Cas in large loopy letters. “In a few minutes, we’re going to lm the rst few shots— you’ll be walking in with Ada”— Chloe pointed with her pen out the back window— “in the Jeep behind us.”

Cas turned quickly in her seat, eyes straining as though she would reasonably get a glimpse of this “Ada” in the Jeep still trundling up the road.

“Are we rst in?”

She hadn’t seen any cars ahead of them, but it was always a good few minutes between the arrivals. Though, if Cas’s memory was correct, only the rst two lovers walked in together.

“First in,” Chloe con rmed.

Cas barely held back her celebration— this was exactly what she’d been hoping for when she’d gotten into the car this morning, the only thought that kept her going at half past ve, jet-lagged, eyes barely open.

She’d spent the better part of the last few weeks thinking through every possible step of her strategy to meet Robert’s demand of making the nals, but she’d known that so much of her actual experience once she got to the villa would be out of her hands, down to luck. Cas could have made it work no matter what order she came in— if she was coming in last, she’d have to command more attention, make sure she got a few good comments in— but this made everything signicantly easier.

The girls in rst, on average, had a much deeper connection with the audience, especially early in the summer.

Even with her attempts to suppress her joy, the smile was evident in Cas’s voice. “Great.”

Chloe looked at Cas for a long moment, her expression shrewd, before her gaze icked down to scan over Cas’s out t. Cas had gone a bit over the top with the bikini she’d chosen for today, but if she wanted to make an impression, this bikini was the one.

The bottoms were nothing to write home about— simple, tie-waist bottoms that weren’t quite a thong but still left most of her arse exposed— but the top?

The top was the stu of Cas’s dreams.

It followed the same shape of a typical triangle bikini, but the fabric itself was barely large enough to cover her. There was a thin line of black that ran underneath her breasts and tied behind her back, and there were more thin black strips of fabric straining up across her chest and tying behind her neck. It almost looked like a harness, but an incredibly fragile one, like the tiniest slip of the nger could send the entire thing tumbling to the oor. The top also left every single one of her tattoos visible, which she loved. The full sleeve, to be fair, was hard to hide, but she even got to show o the words on her ribs—prophet of lies in serif font— and those almost never saw the light of day.

She’d spent a long time looking at herself in the bathroom mirror that morning before she left the holding hotel, partially to come to terms with what she was about to experience, but largely because she couldn’t get over her re ection. Her short brown hair, sleek and skimming her shoulders that shimmered with body highlighter, the shock of her tattoos and bikini against her pale skin, and fuck. Cas was turning herself on so much, she didn’t think any of the people in this villa stood a goddamn chance. She’d spent weeks spiraling out, coming up with a plan to meet Robert’s ridiculous expectations, but maybe this summer wouldn’t be as tough as she thought.

Chloe brie y met Cas’s gaze again before returning to her clipboard.

“Once you’re inside the villa, you and Ada are to go straight through the house and immediately out into the back garden. The other women are going to arrive and then our host, Mila, will be there to start the matching process.”

Cas nodded blankly. “Will we be getting phones like in previous years?”

The phones didn’t seem that useful— they were basically jail-broken iPhones with, like, four apps, none of which were the internet— but she needed all the information she could get.

Chloe was scribbling something on her clipboard. “Your phones will be on your bedside tables after you’re partnered up. It’ll have a case with your name on it, but there are obviously limitations. You can take pictures, receive texts, but that’s about it.”

Chloe nished writing, and after a quick scan over her notes, she looked up at Cas. “When I get out of the car, Joe is going to lock the doors, but that’s to serve as a signal for when you should get out of the car at the top of the hill. We’ll have you standing up through the open top, so hold there”— Chloe pointed her pen at the roll bars above them— “and we’ll be lming as you approach, so make sure your face is right.”

That comment felt more barbed than necessary.

“Once we’re set up to lm your exit, Joe will unlock the car doors. The moment you hear it unlock, open your door and step out. There will be a camera right there, and it will follow you as you turn back toward Ada’s car to greet her. You have to collect Ada before you make your way into the villa.

“The drive up will have a voice- over from your initial interview, but if you want to shout excitedly or something, we can cut that in.” Chloe said it like she thought the last thing Cas would do was shout excitedly while she was sticking out of the roof of a car, and while she wasn’t wrong, Cas wanted to prove the point now.

“Hmm.” Cas tilted her head to the side, reveling in the feeling of her hair skirting across her shoulders.

“Okay.” Chloe’s voice was short, clearly getting tired of what must be her rst of many of these conversations. “Now, unless you have questions, I need to go run Ada through this.”

“No questions,” Cas said, though her con rmation didn’t appear to matter because Chloe had already opened the car door before Cas could even nish.

The silence hung heavy in the car for a beat before Joe locked the doors, the mechanical clicking so loud that Cas almost physically startled. They sat in silence for fteen minutes before Joe nally glanced back at her.

“Here.” Joe smacked his palm against the back of the center console. “Stand right up against the front seats.”

It took a bit of maneuvering, but Cas managed to slot herself through the roof, her palms curling over the roll bars as she scanned around. There were people dotted along the road, all of them currently pointing massive cameras in her direction. Her grip tightened on the bar, her knuckles going white.

Cas was just about to slap on her best camera smile when she felt ngers skate across her skin to the mic pack on a belt around her middle. She jolted and found Joe’s hand in the air in a whoa gesture.

“Just turning your mic on,” Joe said.

Cas glared at him. “You could have asked.”

“I’m sorry,” Joe said, and he genuinely looked it. “Normally the contestants don’t mind it.”

“Well, I do.”

The surprise touch was way too reminiscent of the bad

Friday nights, the ones that left her feeling a little slimy in her own skin and with a mountain of paperwork to complete to make sure that person was never invited back again. The bad nights were less frequent these days, but someone still tried to put their hands on her every few months, thinking her laughing and talking and smiling was some kind of invitation.

It was a major part of why she needed to get the hell out of events.

Cas exhaled softly as she cast her gaze back out to the scene in front of her. She rolled her shoulders discreetly before tilting her head to the left, then the right, a repeat of the little ritual she did before every one of her Friday hosting nights back home. She’d long since lost her actual nerves before these things, but there was something to the practice that helped her feel that much more grounded and ready for whatever was going to come.

The car started slowly up the drive, enough that Cas’s hair began gently owing in the wind. As they drove, the camera crew along the road took swift steps backward, careful to keep pace with the car without tripping. In the nal edit, Cas knew they’d be playing her interview with a bright pop backing track, and the contrast with her reality, the crunch of the gravel and mu ed conversation from the crew and the wind in her ears, made Cas laugh out loud.

It was natural and unexpected and, god, she knew it would look glorious in the nal cut.

The moment the car stopped at the top of the hill, Cas dropped through the sunroof, careful to avoid knocking the front seats with her elbows, and positioned herself at the back door. The windows were heavily tinted, but she could just see

the rush of the camera crew along the pavement as they positioned themselves at their next marks.

“I’m going to unlock in ve,” Joe said, eyes trained forward on the producer he could see through the windscreen. “Remember, there’s going to be a camera right in your face when you open the door.”

“So make sure my face is right,” Cas said, echoing Chloe from earlier.

“I’m sure your face will be right,” Joe said absently before he icked the locks and Cas immediately opened the door. Just as Joe promised, the camera was almost directly in front of her, but Cas smiled naturally, casting her gaze o to the trees in the distance. She stepped out carefully onto the gravel, positioning her foot just right so that her stiletto didn’t slip over the irregular stones.

It was warm outside, but the soft breeze now blowing against Cas’s skin was a welcome change to the stu y heat inside the car. The wind was brushing her hair back across her shoulders, and as the camera very obviously scanned over the length of her— catching the bounce of her breasts as she stepped out, the tantalizing press of the ties across her body, the miles and miles of perfectly highlighted skin— Cas felt a knowing smile tug up at the corner of her lips.

It was tricky business, letting the camera consume her like this, but Cas would do anything if it meant she got through the next eight weeks unscathed.

Following Chloe’s instruction, Cas started making her way toward the Jeep parked a few meters behind her own. The car door was opening as Cas approached, but then the woman— Ada— shut the door and Cas felt her heart stutter in her chest.