Chapter Twenty-Four
Sienna had promised herself to make the best of the villa date.
The place was insane. No detail was overlooked.
The mahogany ceiling was shaped like oversized leaves.
Polished stone sculptures of springbok mid-leap stood lifelike against a wall.
There were hand-carved wooden plates filled with snacks of smoked salami sticks, dried apples, sea-salted crackers and a circle of Camembert cheese.
Woven baskets were tucked into every corner.
Then there were the sunken sofas, piled with tasseled cushions and curved around the fire pit that offered the most perfect view of the bushveld Sienna had ever seen.
She could easily have stared out at the watering hole all evening if she didn’t have to pretend she wasn’t being kneaded like focaccia dough.
Nisha’s thumbs dug into her shoulders again. “You hold a lot of tension here,” she murmured, her lips far too close to Sienna’s ear, close enough to tickle her skin.
Sienna had picked Nisha for the villa date because it had seemed like the safest option.
Nisha was sweet. Grounded. She was the type of contestant who said things like holding space.
But now Sienna was realizing, with the growing panic of someone locked in a room without a door, that she might have made a terrible mistake.
“We’ll have to work through these knots slowly,” Nisha said, kneading deep along her trapezius as if she were sculpting clay.
Her fingers traced small circles down the back of Sienna’s neck before she pressed her palms firmly against tense muscles.
Then she slid her thumbs into knots Sienna hadn’t even realized she carried.
Sienna winced. Then flinched. Then, she pulled a face, which she was grateful no one else could see. She most certainly didn’t want to work through the knots in her back. And definitely not slowly. In fact, she wanted to shrink away from Nisha’s surprisingly strong hands.
Except she couldn’t quite figure out how to do that without coming off as terribly rude. Or worse, like she was into it and wanted to move this little party to the bedroom.
Which she did not.
Absolutely not.
“I usually see a massage therapist once a month,” Sienna said, wincing as Nisha pressed a little harder. How was she this strong? “She’s more… um, gentle than you are.”
Nisha laughed softly and velvety, a sound that seemed to vibrate right against Sienna’s spine. Considering how close she was, it was no wonder. “You have to work through the knots,” she said, kneading harder. “Pain means release.”
Sienna wasn’t sure what a music therapist knew about pain release, but she wasn’t going to argue. Not with someone whose hands felt like they belonged attached to the Hulk. Instead, she opted for distraction.
“What kind of instruments do you use for your therapy sessions?” Sienna asked, tilting her head slightly, hoping to give her neck some kind of break.
Nisha’s hands paused for a fraction of a second, just enough for Sienna to feel relief. “Mostly singing bowls,” she said. “And gongs. Sometimes a hang drum. Some clients prefer tuning forks or water bowls, but basically anything that creates vibration the body can absorb.”
Sienna nodded, trying to focus on the words and not the pain radiating down her spine.
“That’s really interesting,” she said. “Do people respond differently to certain musical instruments?” As someone who had never even heard of music therapy, let alone experienced it, she had no idea what it entailed.
But what she did know was that Nisha’s grip on her shoulders had become a little looser and for the first time in what felt like ages, Sienna could breathe again.
She took this moment of reprieve to appreciate the view of three elephants pottering around at the watering hole. Their trunks dipped in and out of the water, sending tiny ripples across the glassy surface. All three looked completely unbothered by anything else in the world.
Must be nice, Sienna thought.
“Absolutely,” Nisha said. “Some people release their stress immediately. Others need more time. The body remembers more than the mind thinks it does.”
Nisha resumed her slow kneading, but this time it wasn’t as hard as before.
In fact, it was kind of pleasant. Sienna allowed herself a brief sigh.
Maybe she could survive this. Maybe this evening wouldn’t be as bad as she’d expected it to be.
And maybe once Nisha decided she was over massaging Sienna, they could spend the rest of their time just talking.
But then her body jerked. Not because Nisha’s thumbs had suddenly started digging into her muscles again, but rather because Nisha’s hands had just slipped under Sienna’s top, skating dangerously close to her nipples.
Sienna wasn’t sure what to do. She wasn’t even sure if that had just happened or if the wine was going to her head. She stole a quick glance at her wineglass resting on the round oak coffee table. Practically full.
But no. It happened again. Nisha leaned in closer.
Her breath ghosted over Sienna’s ear. “I’m so grateful you picked me for this villa date,” she whispered.
“I’ve honestly been dreaming of kissing you ever since the introductions.
” Her hands slipped once again under Sienna’s top, but thankfully didn’t go nearly as low as they had before.
“I know this is a little presumptuous of me. So, please feel free to stop me. I won’t be offended if you don’t want to kiss me, although I hope that you do. ”
Sienna cleared her throat, ready to put an end to this before it even began.
She didn’t want to lead Nisha on any longer.
Had she even led her on? But then, Nisha pressed her mouth to Sienna’s temple and then her cheek, and finally, her neck.
Every nerve in Sienna’s body screamed. Still, she couldn’t think of an appropriate excuse to move away.
At least not one that would make sense. The villa date was made for these kinds of moments.
She was pretty sure there had never been a case of a bachelorette actually trying to resist a kiss.
But then again, how many bachelorettes fell in love with the show’s host, only to be forced to continue the show for the sake of the network? Not that many, she assumed.
“Nisha,” Sienna started just as Nisha’s warm lips grazed her jaw. “I really—”
But her words were cut off clean by a knock on the door.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
A rush of relief came sweeping in so strong that Sienna nearly gasped.
Finally, an excuse to pull away. Sienna was out from underneath Nisha’s hands in a second.
She scrambled off the sofa and hurried toward the door before Nisha could even ask who was interrupting their villa date, when the entire point of the date was no interruptions.
“It’s probably just the chef,” Sienna said, reaching for the knob.
“It is about time for dinner,” she added over her shoulder.
“I hope it’s something spicy. I’ve been craving a lamb curry ever since we got here.
” It was completely untrue. Spicy food usually gave Sienna the runs.
But it was a convenient way to end the night early.
Even if it meant she’d be stuck in the bathroom for the rest of it.
Even if it meant she would moan in agony for what felt like hours.
But then the door swung open, and it wasn’t the chef.
Vivian stood at the threshold.
Beautiful Vivian who somehow had captured Sienna’s heart like a Venus flytrap.
Who, without knowing Sienna from a bar of soap, had helped with the cut on her forehead.
Who had come rushing to her when hot stones burned holes into her back.
The woman who had caught her when she tripped.
And the one who had made Sienna forget how to breathe properly.
“What are you doing here?” Sienna asked, suddenly dazed.
For a second she wondered if she’d stood up too fast. It wouldn’t be the first time she had fainted from low blood pressure. But then the world snapped into focus again. The villa date was supposed to be without interruption, yet Vivian was interrupting.
“We need to talk,” Vivian said, stepping past Sienna into the small foyer with a jute rug and a pale wooden console holding an assortment of hollowed-out ostrich eggs.
“What’s going on?” Nisha asked, sauntering toward them. Her long bohemian skirt flapped in the makeshift breeze, and she flicked strands of dark, wavy hair behind her tanned shoulders. “Why are you here? Did something happen?”
Vivian lifted a hand to shut her up.
Nisha clamped her mouth shut, but then just as quickly looked like a woman who wasn’t going to stand for it. “I’m sorry, but this date is private.”
Vivian ignored her and turned her back to Nisha, facing Sienna instead.
Sienna didn’t even bother looking to see if Nisha was okay. She only had eyes for Vivian. Lovely, gorgeous Vivian, who couldn’t stand it anymore and crashed the villa date to save her once again.
“I can’t wait,” Vivian said. “I can’t wait until the show is over for us to finally admit how we feel about each other. I don’t want to hide anymore. I don’t want to pretend that there’s nothing going on between us because there is.”
Sienna couldn’t believe this was happening.
Was this actually happening, or had Nisha hit some kind of trigger point that sent her spiraling into a dream state? No, this was real. Sienna could smell the arnica oil from Nisha’s hands as she stepped forward and pointed a finger at Vivian.
“What the hell is going on?” Nisha demanded.
This time, it was Sienna who cut her off. “Not now,” she said so quickly and so forcefully that Nisha’s eyes widened. She stepped back, folded her arms tightly over her chest, but mercifully didn’t argue. Sienna was grateful. Vivian had taken that moment to step forward and take her hands in hers.
“These last few days have been torture,” Vivian said, staring into Sienna’s eyes.
“Watching you go on those dates, pretending I didn’t care that Holly kissed you, or that Dani held your hand, or that you chose Nisha for the villa date, has been an absolute nightmare.
I hate it. I hate Elise for making us do this.
I hate myself for not standing up to her, for thinking that my work is more important than my heart. ”
“I don’t want you to get fired,” Sienna said. Honestly, the only reason Sienna had kept up this charade was to protect Vivian. To protect her job. She cared enough about her—hell, she was in love with her—to go through with this nonsense.
“I don’t care if I get fired,” Vivian said, squeezing her fingers.
“I don’t even care about this show. You’re my heart, Sienna.
Every time I see you smile or hear your laugh, it feels like my world rearranges itself.
Every time your foot catches on the edge of a chair or a rug, I imagine myself cushioning your fall. ”
“You don’t have to do that,” Sienna said. Her heart beat like thunder and lightning rolling over a dry savanna. She didn’t just hear it in her ears; she felt it too. A glorious, beautiful wildfire spreading through her chest. This was, after all, exactly what she wanted to hear.
“But I want to,” Vivian insisted, stepping in closer. “What I don’t want is to watch you pick one of them for the final rose. I don’t think I’ll be able to just stand back and—”
“Wait,” Nisha said, interrupting again. Her nostrils weren’t just flaring; they were practically flapping.
“Were you seriously just going to pick someone for the final rose just to pick someone?” She whipped her head between the two of them, looking utterly aghast. “But you’re actually seeing each other? ”
“Yes,” Sienna and Vivian said at the same time. Best to just yank the band-aid right off.
“That’s seriously fucked up.” Nisha shot, her voice shrill. “Seriously fucked up.” She stomped to the door only to pause in the doorway. “You both need therapy.”
Sienna didn’t care what Nisha thought. This was the happiest she had ever been, and she hated that she was told she had to lie about it. “I love you,” she said, leaning in to press her lips against Vivian’s.
“I love you too,” Vivian said, grinning into Sienna’s mouth. “Even the part of you determined to trip over every flat surface out there.”
They laughed. Both of them. They laughed so hard that they hadn’t heard Elise barge in through the door.
And they didn’t care. Fuck Elise and her scripted love show. Fuck pretending.