Page 71 of Insta Bride

“I still can’t believe it.” I giggled each time he called me that. “Why couldn’t you be Mr. Mercer?”

“Because, my beautiful, sexy, incorrigible wife, I don’t put it past Pops to come back from the dead and reclaim the ring if you’re not going to try and bring little Bransons’ into the world.”

“You want children?” I’d assumed so, but we’d never discussed the details.

“Let’s start by calling you Mrs Branson.”

“I can’t believe we’re really doing this.” I smiled into his chest. Loving his scent. All manly and woodsy. And was it my imagination, or did he smell of sex?

“Yes, we’re really doing this, my love.”

I shot my head up, “Really? You want to pull that word out now?”

“Why wouldn’t I? You’re my wife.”

“Yes. And you’ve known me for a month.”

“It didn’t take me a month to realize I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“You called me, my love.”

“So? It took me a month to say the words, didn’t mean it took me a month to mean it.”

I playfully swiped his arm, “Really, loving husband of mine? It didn’t take me a month to realize that you annoyed the absolute hell out of me.”

“Yeah, but the sex is good, isn’t it?”

“The sex is mediocre, but I’m willing to practice until you get it perfect.”

We’d been natural. Us. So comfortable exchanging our banter on the island, neither of us noticed the dozen mobile phones recording as Kye silenced me by swinging me around until I squealed for him to stop. Steadying me, he planted one of his magical kisses. The sort of kiss that touched my lips but reached into my heart and ripped it up. This man cradled my heart in both his hands and he didn’t even know it.

Kye thought I’d been badged into getting married—by the production staff, by the other women who’d been ferried back to the island for our joint wedding reception, by him.

Kye still didn’t understand that I’d made the decision to grab every ounce of him that I could, for as long as I could. Embracing the spontaneity, I’d decided to enjoy his ride. Yes, I’d end up being emotionally battered and bruised when the ride ended, but I no longer cared.

I loved Kye Branson. And he’d called me, my love.

I called my friend, Olivia from the Uber. Not only did I want Kye to meet Olivia and Hunter, but Liv had worked in PR and marketing.

“Are you sure the money’s worth it?” she asked. “They will want their pound of flesh and there’s no guarantee you’ll be able to meet their definition of being a couple.”

“Tell us about the fine print, I haven’t heard back from my lawyer mate. He’s still pissed about me signing without advice,” Kye said. His arm was around me in the back of an Uber.

“Only one couple is going to get the mega cash and I’m hearing there is a bounty being placed over all four of you. Any photos of you in compromising positions. Any legit screen shots of compromising sexting with people other than your partner. They have every incentive to try and catch you out.”

“So, we’ll be living with cameras following our every move and assume every conversation is being recorded?” Kye shrugged. “We’ve survived one month. We can survive six more. Then they’ll move onto another target and we’ll have the cash to start our lives together.”

“Your man is saying all the right things, but Elena, are you okay?”

I looked at Kye and snuggled further into his arms. “How about you give us time to unpack and then you can see for yourself.”

“Have the two of you made a decision?” The driver looked to us. We only lived one suburb apart, but hadn’t decided where we’d start our married life.

“Well?” Kye asked, pulling a coin from his wallet. “Flip a coin, pick a home, and christen every single room?”

“Which do you want? Heads or tails?”

“Don’t make me choose. I love your head, and you’ve got the tastiest ass a husband could wish for.”

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