21. The Admission
The Admission
brIELLE
T he villa’s living area feels like a holding cell as I pad across its cool tiles, tea mug clutched in my good hand.
The dusk paints everything in shades of amber, turning the waiting women into portraits of anticipation.
My bandaged arm throbs in rhythm with my heartbeat—a constant reminder of bulls and cobblestones and Hayes’s mouth on mine in the darkness of an SUV.
I settle onto the edge of the couch, carefully arranging my bruised body into a posture that telegraphs “recovering but brave” as Skye suggested, and prepare for Luna’s return.
And I need to get my nerves under control, somehow.
I might have to tell everyone the truth about last night, and the thought makes me want to throw up and jump out of my skin.
I’m also extra emotional after seeing Chloe come back to the mansion, pack up, and leave.
I hope her grandfather’s going to be okay, and I really like her.
We said we’d keep in touch, and I hope that happens.
Serena glances up from her book, her eyes lingering on my arm. “You’re looking better,” she says. “Rested, at least.”
“Thanks,” I murmur, not mentioning that every square inch of my body feels like it’s been tenderized. “How was the flamenco lesson?”
“Incredible,” Annabelle says from her perch on the window seat. “I kept stepping on Hayes’s toes, but we just laughed about it.” Her cheeks flush, her freckles standing out against the pink. “He was very patient, and it ended up being a ton of fun.”
Serena catches my eye and mouths “You okay?” with genuine concern. I give her a nod.
Gabby enters with a glass of wine, her movements deliberate as she chooses the armchair directly across from me.
Kavita trails behind her like shadows, settling on the floor near Gabby’s feet, a calculating gleam in her eyes. “Shouldn’t Luna be back by now?” She glances at her watch. “It’s been hours. Wonder what they’re doing now.”
The implication hangs in the air, but I remind myself about what I told Hayes. I want him to explore the other women then still choose me. Except he doesn’t know that Luna’s a liar.
I want to protect him from her, but I’m distracted by what I’m about to do with Skye’s coaching that’s playing on repeat in my mind. Own the truth before it owns you. But I manage to say, “I imagine talking, eating with no mics, then drinking. Like all these dates go.”
“I know, right?” Serena laughs.
“So true,” Annabelle says.
Before anyone can say anything else, the villa’s front door opens, and conversation halts. Luna enters, windswept and glowing, her casual elegance and slight dishevelment looks art-directed.
“Hey!” she says, dropping her wrap on a chair. “What a day.”
Everyone converges around her like she’s a magnet, throwing questions about the date, the dancing, the food.
Luna’s responses are animated and detailed—the passionate instructors, the intimate tapas dinner, the walk through the city under the stars.
But I notice how her eyes skip over me each time they sweep the room.
“And Hayes?” Annabelle’s voice is tinged with that mixture of competitiveness and genuine curiosity unique to this bizarre dating experiment. “How was he?”
Luna’s smile shifts, becomes something more private. “Amazing. He’s just such a thoughtful, deep, and kind-hearted guy.” She sighs. “We had a serious connection today. I think he finally saw the real me.”
The words land like tiny darts. I take another sip of tea, ignoring the twinge in my arm. “That’s wonderful.” I hope my voice is steadier than I feel. I’m so furious at her for lying to me, but I can’t get into any of that now. “I’m glad you had a good time.”
Luna finally meets my eyes, something complicated flickering across her face. “Thanks, Brielle. How’s your arm?”
“Better,” I lie, because what else can I say? That it hurts like hell? That every throb reminds me of Hayes’s hands on my skin in that SUV? That I’m terrified I’ve ruined everything by crossing lines that, despite feeling so right in the moment, have now created this chasm now.
“Good,” she says, her tone suddenly flat. “Good to hear.”
The artificial politeness hangs between us, and it feels like something between she and me shifted on her end. I know it has on mine, but she doesn’t know that I know the truth about her, so it has to be something else. I have no idea what, but my stomach makes a nasty churn.
“Luna,” Gabby says, her voice honey-sweet, “did Hayes mention what he did last night with Brielle? After the hospital, I mean.”
“Yeah, really,” Kavita adds.
Luna’s expression freezes before she smooths her features into careful neutrality. “No. Why?”
“Just curious.” Gabby’s eyes gleam.
I remind myself of Skye’s advice. I don’t say anything unless I’m asked specifically, so I shrug, saying, “He brought me back from the hospital, yes.”
There must be something in my tone because Serena gasps, then says, “Oh my God. You slept with him.”
I blink, wishing she couldn’t read me so well. I look at the floor, unable to get any words to come out when Annabelle says, “You did—I can tell.”
Both of the women I care about are onto me, and I don’t want to lie to them. So, it’s the moment of truth. The moment Skye prepared me for.
I set down my mug and rise to my feet, my body protesting.
Standing gives me a psychological advantage, even as pain radiates through my bruised hip.
“As you all know, Hayes took me to the hospital after I fell during the bull running,” I say, my voice clear despite the nervous flutter in my chest. “He stayed with me through the stitches, and the doctor advised me to monitor for any excess bleeding, which is why Hayes brought me back himself instead of sending a production assistant.”
I pause, feeling the weight of everyone’s gaze.
“And then we had a moment in the SUV afterward. The kind of intimate moment that happens when you’ve been terrified and relieved and pumped full of adrenaline.
I’m not going to apologize for that connection, but I also understand it complicates things in this environment. ”
The silence that follows feels like an overfilled balloon aching to pop.
“I knew it.” Gabby lifts her chin.
“A ‘moment’?” Annabelle’s voice shakes.
Luna stays quiet, probably trying to weigh what she should say to me after she told me she did the same thing.
I can’t bear to look at Annabelle and Serena, but before I can address them, the front door opens.
Hayes steps into the living area, his expression shifting from casual to alert as he reads the tension in the room.
He’s still dressed in a nice button-up shirt and jeans that accentuate his long, lean legs.
Under different circumstances, I might have appreciated the view.
Now, I can only register the way his eyes briefly lock with mine before deliberately sliding away.
“Everyone,” he says, his voice cautious. “Seems like I’ve interrupted something important.”
No one speaks. The collective intake of breath feels like oxygen being sucked from the room.
“Actually,” Gabby finally says, satisfaction in every syllable, “Brielle was just telling us about your intimate ‘moment’ after her accident.”
Hayes’s jaw tightens almost imperceptibly.
He steps further into the room, his gaze taking in each woman’s expression, cataloging reactions.
When he finally speaks, his voice carries that careful control I’ve come to recognize as his way of navigating difficult emotions.
“I see.” Then, with a glance that deliberately avoids my direction, he says, “What Brielle described is accurate. After her injury, we shared a connection that went beyond what I planned on engaging in on this show.”
His words land like a grenade in the room. Annabelle’s face twists in anger, Serena straightens her spine, and Luna’s face contorts. Kavita and Gabby’s triumphant expressions falter—they clearly expected denials, not confirmation.
“However,” Hayes says, his posture shifting into what I recognize as his on-camera stance, “that doesn’t change the fact that I’m here to explore connections with all of you.
It was an emotional moment where we got swept away, and I have genuine feelings developing in multiple relationships. I take that responsibility seriously.”
The words slice through me. I know what he’s doing—damage control, I think? But the way he refuses to look at me, the deliberate distance in his voice, makes my chest constrict.
“I understand this creates an uncomfortable situation.” His hands slide into his pockets. “Which is why I want to offer anyone who feels they can no longer continue this journey the opportunity to leave without judgment. I would completely understand if this changes things for some of you.”
The challenge hangs in the air. Leave or stay. Accept the complication or walk away.
“I’m staying,” Serena says first, her analytical mind clearly having weighed the variables and decided the equation still works in her favor.
“Me too.” Annabelle’s voice wavers. “What happened was between you and Brielle. It doesn’t change how I feel about exploring our connection.”
Luna nods, her expression unreadable. “I’m still here.”
Gabby hesitates, clearly torn between the desire to compete and the blow to her ego. Finally, she inclines her head in a gesture that’s more regal than accommodating. “I’ll stay.”
All eyes turn to Kavita, who has gone unusually quiet. She stands slowly, her pageant posture perfect even as her expression crumples at the edges.
“I’m out,” she announces. “This isn’t what I signed up for. I came to find love, not to be part of some line of conquests.” She looks directly at me, anger warring in her eyes.
“Kavita, I’m sorry—” Hayes begins, but she cuts him off with a raised hand.
“Don’t. Please.” She smooths down her already-perfect hair. “I don’t do the polyamory thing—even if it makes for great TV.” With a final glance around the room, she adds, “Good luck, ladies. You’re going to need it.”
She exits with the dramatic flair of a woman who knows when to make her final scene count.
“I should go talk to her,” Hayes says after a moment, his shoulders tight. “The rest of you, please take the evening to process. We’ll pick up tomorrow with our scheduled activities.”
And then he’s gone, leaving me standing in the center of a room full of women whose relationships with Hayes suddenly feel both more real and more artificial than ever.
One by one, they disperse—Gabby and Luna to comfort Kavita, Annabelle to the bathroom to cry—which I’ll let her do before I beg for her to forgive me—and only Serena remains, crossing the room to stand beside me.
“Well,” she says quietly, “that was interesting.”
I sink back onto the couch, exhaustion hitting me like a physical force. “That’s one word for it. Do you hate me?”
“No. Being intimate is part of dating and the human experience. I’m a realist.”
“You really are.” I manage a smile. “Anyway, I might be a goner at tomorrow’s Lock & Key ceremony. Did you see his face? It was like he was looking at a stranger.”
Serena settles beside me, her expression thoughtful. “Or like he was looking at someone he cares about but can’t show it. There’s a difference.”
I want to believe her. Want to believe that Hayes’s distance is performance rather than regret. That last night in the SUV wasn’t the beginning and end of something real.
But as the night deepens around us, as the villa quiets with two fewer contestants, all I can think about is the deliberate way Hayes avoided my gaze. The careful precision with which he spoke of “multiple connections.”
Two more weeks until the final key. Two more weeks of this exquisite uncertainty. And no promise that the man who shared that SUV with me is the same one who will stand at the end, key in hand, ready to choose.