Page 126 of Insta Bride

A statement of fact didn’t need an answer. Would he respect me for holding my nerve or sue me for the slight? Shit, I hoped no one was about to shake my sweaty hand.

“Mr. Branson, you signed a non-disclosure agreement. Do you remember?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Did you read it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Did you understand it?”

“Yes, sir.”

He turned, eyes blazing. “Did you intentionally wipe your ass with it before trying to shove it up mine?”

He hadn’t stood, not needing height to make his point or exude power. I decided to take away some of his momentum by taking the seat next to him. Invading his personal space could either cost me or save me.

“Sir, we haven’t formally been introduced. My name is Kye Branson, and I’m married to Elena Mercer. I believe our relationship has been sabotaged by either our competitors, my ex-hookups, or both. Right now, she’s backstage and still not talking to me. I’m hoping that our commitment ceremony can be a fresh start, but if it isn’t then I can only thank you for introducing me to the love of my life.”

Even the roadies fell silent. I hadn’t realized how my voice would have carried throughout the hall.

“Kye?” Elena brushed away a restraining arm, racing onto stage. Gorgeous in torn and faded jeans, a pink button shirt and hair in rollers, ready for tonight.

“Babe, Elena, wait.” I ignored Lloyd and Bree, desperate to get up on stage, except security blocked my path. “Elena,” I begged. I never begged, before Elena. There was a lot of stuff I hadn’t done, before Elena. Romance, relationships, love, and now begging for a chance to be heard.

“After the show,” Bree said, motioning to the security, “Get her backstage. I’ll let you know when it’s time for her and Kenzie.”

“Elena, we need to talk!” I called to her retreating ass. Damn, I loved her curves. “Elena!”

“Mr. Branson.” Lloyd McMahan now invited me to reclaim my seat. “Your non-disclosure agreement included making unauthorised media representations. That included social media posts, interviews and other recordings.”

“Can I be frank?” I showed him an ounce of deference. More than he deserved or had shown me. Not waiting for a reply, I continued. “I signed the document. I’ve put up with my life and reputation being trashed, with no ability to defend myself or my relationship. My wife—as you can see—is unimpressed by our marriage. Your rules have kept us apart while it seems everyone else can have their say.”

“Including your friend, Devon Scott.”

“Dev is a mate. He’s been a mate for years.”

“He released a song earlier today.”

“I heard.”

“A catchy verse.”

“I couldn’t say. They are the words that keep repeating in my head.”

“After hearing the song on repeat, they are also stuck in mine.”

“Elena is an acquired taste, but once you have, you won’t want to let her go.”

“Your competition have claimed an unfair advantage. They believe they haven’t had a chance to press their case with the Australian public in the last day of voting.”

“I don’t care about the voting.”

“You care about the money?”

“Loving my wife and wanting to win the money aren’t mutually exclusive.”

“And if you have to choose?”

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