Love or Lust (LOL): Part 1

Day 1

This is nothow I planned to spend my twenty-third birthday. Not even close.

I’m not even sure how I let Naomi talk me into this. Sure, I was in a vulnerable state. Angry and hurt. Drunker than I’d been in years. I was still conscious, and after being best friends with Naomi for more than five years, I should have known better than to agree to any plan she concocted.

Especially when she was pouring the drinks.

Especially when she was as pissed off as I was.

Most importantly, I should have known better than to agree to anything when her eyes were filled with revenge the way they were three months ago. The day I caught my fiancé cheating on me. Because as hurt and broken as I was, Naomi was irate. When I showed up on her doorstep in tears, unable to tell her more than it was over between strangled breaths the first hour I was there, she flipped her shit.

A pissed-off Naomi makes for a force to be reckoned with. You don’t mess with her people. She doesn’t give you a second chance. Once you screw up, she’s done with you. The only thing on her mind is to make you hurt the way you made someone else hurt.

The focus of her rage became my ex, Wren.

And somehow, she convinced me this was the way to get back at him. To show him what he lost. To prove to him he made a mistake. Not that I would ever take him back. Cheating was a non-negotiable for me. Once a cheater, always a cheater.

So why am I in a limo, pulling up to a house I will never be able to afford, in a dress that cost more than a month’s rent?

Because my best friend in the world fed me booze and convinced me a reality TV show was a great way to rub it in Wren’s face that he screwed up.

The difference between Naomi and me? She actually thinks this will be good for me. That I’ll fall in love and live happily ever after. Me? I think it’s all a bunch of scripted bullshit.

I’ve seen my fair share of shows like this. Love or Lust is no different. They pit people against each other. Record everything but only show clips, altering the situation to make for good TV. Everyone is good looking, desirable. The guys are going to be assholes behind the scenes, and the girls are going to be caddy bitches.

Again, why am I doing this?

Besides the fact Naomi talked me into it and forced me to fill out the application while I was still intoxicated?

Oh, yeah. It pays. A lot. And for every week I survive, the payout grows higher. Money I desperately need because I have no place to call home, no job, and my future has been destroyed. All thanks to my cheating ex.

The limo rolls to a stop, and as I reach for my purse, I momentarily forget about the camera in my face, accidentally kicking the cameraman with my stiletto.

On instinct, I apologize but he doesn’t respond. I was told not to acknowledge them. Not to look directly into the camera. Both of which I’ve done more than I care to admit since I was picked up from the airport an hour ago. It’s hard when you know they’re there. You’re alone. Freaking out. Feeling out of place and uncomfortable.

The door opens, and a short, older man extends his hand to me.

Ed Robbins.

The host of Love or Lust.

He’s good looking for a man in his late forties. Salt and pepper hair. Strong jawline. Warm smile. He’s wearing a suit tailored to his trim, fit body. If the show was geared toward cougars and DILFS, he would be a strong contender.

“Presley, welcome,” he says as he helps me from the car. It’s a good thing he’s holding on to me. I feel as unsteady in these heels as I do unsure about being here.

After a short talk as he escorts me into the house, with the cameras following us of course, I’m given a packet by his assistant before she whisks me away to my villa.

“Here we are,” Claudia says. She’s a perky redhead who seems to know the ins and outs of the show. She’s walking and talking at a pace I can barely keep up with, and not just because of my shoes. “These are the girls’ villas. You’re in number six. Your luggage will be delivered shortly if they haven’t already dropped it off. Feel free to look around, familiarize yourself with the property, but we ask that you stay out of the main house for now.”

When she comes to a stop in front of a cozy little cottage, I’m relieved. “The rest of the contestants will be arriving soon, and your first group meeting is tonight. Please make sure you read through your packet entirely, especially the schedule. Contestants are required to participate in all activities. If you have any questions, my cell phone number is also in the packet. I’ll be your point of contact during your stay, so don’t hesitate to call if you need anything. Good luck, Presley.”

She’s already rushing back toward the main house before I can thank her. I imagine I’m not the only person she’s responsible for.

Her word choice makes me want to laugh, but it’s also a reality check. Because this is a contest. You want to last as long as possible. The goal is to make it to the end and leave here with the grand prize.

And to fall in love... yeah right.

I don’t see that happening. In fact, I don’t see the lust part happening either. I’m not particularly interested in jumping into bed with anyone right now. I’m certainly not ready to open my heart to another man any time soon. I’ll play the part, though, in the hope I can make it another week, one step closer to the big money.