Page 15 of The Billionaire Love Match

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“Can you believe allthese rules?”

Casey shook her head at Tessa, the woman who had worn the purple gown the night before. “No,” Casey said, “and also yes.”

This earned them a glare from the producer standing at the fireplace in the front of the grand living room of the Bachelor Mansion. Casey hid her face behind the handbook so he hopefully wouldn’t see her giggle. Yes, there was a handbook. Covering everything from phone calls (to be made only from the common phone in the mansion and would be recorded) to social media posts, which were required, but had to be done through the new preloaded phones that they were given at the beginning of the meeting.

Casey yawned as the producer droned on about social media and how the Bachelor Love Match was a completely different take on the traditional dating show.

Rather than filming ahead of time and then airing months later, each week they would film Monday to Friday. Saturday and Sunday were breaks for the girls that would include either travel as they moved locations later on in the show, or just relaxation. That gave them time to edit the show, Casey guessed. But filming never really stopped and there would actually be a live feed superfans could pay for. Any of the common areas of the home—kitchen, living room, dining room, outdoor pool area, etc—would be fair game at the end of this meeting.

“A live feed? Like, running all the time?” one of the girls asked. Casey didn’t know her name, but she had worn a plunging red dress the night before. Red Dress looked excited by this idea, which made Casey feel nauseated.

“Yes,” the producer said. “So keep your clothes on outside the bedrooms and bathrooms.”

He smiled and the girls giggled, but Casey imagined it was a warning. Almost their every move for the next six weeks or however long they lasted was fair game. And owned by BeaconWood, the company behind the show.

“Can we call people from these phones?” another girl—Green Dress—asked, waving her phone around.

“Great question,” the producer said. “You can text or call each other, dial 911. The basics. All other calls need to be made from the house phone. It has its own room on the first floor. Everything will be recorded: video and audio.”

Casey rolled her eyes. But then she thought about Colt and his hazel eyes. The way he had sent electricity through her body the night before just by kissing chocolate off the corner of her mouth. She shivered.

“Cold?” Tessa whispered, holding out a hooded jacket.

Casey shook her head. “No, but thanks.”

She felt the intense sting of jealousy looking around the room at the other women. The whole room had an air of desperation about it. She imagined it was similar to what it must be like on the pageant circuit. Only the sash and crown in this case was a person. Colt. She needed to learn how to handle this roaring emotion or she was going to really struggle.

She found herself nervously tapping her fingers on the edge of the chair she was sitting in. She and Tessa were at the back of the room. Casey had a feeling that this was going to be a long few weeks of back-of-the-room seating.

For as much as the world apparently loved her (and maybe because of it), the women in the house did not. When the producers dropped her off at the front door of the mansion the night before at almost 2am, most of the women were still up, hanging out in the kitchen. The whole room had stopped talking when Casey walked in. It was like the middle school cafeteria. Only worse.

Tessa had broken the silence by running over and giving her a hug, dragging her off into another room. Which made things less awkward, though Casey knew as soon as she left, every girl in the kitchen was talking about her.

“Colt sent Beth home an hour ago,” Tessa had told her. “So everyone’s on edge. It’s not you.”

But Casey knew it was her. She had done the unthinkable in a reality TV competition—she had drawn attention to herself in a way that made Colt pay attention to her and got the viewers on her side. Even if it was a legitimate faint—which it was—it was an audacious violation of the unspoken rules. With these kinds of shows, you had to win the person’s heart while staying inside the social bounds of your competitors. She wasn’t sure if any of them had seen the trending hashtags yet or knew that her fall had been immortalized in gif and meme form as well as on the late-night circuit. It was only a matter of time now that they had access to social media.

She sucked in a breath, tapping her fingers even harder on the arm of her chair. The motion calmed her somehow.

“When does Colt send people home?” someone asked.

“That’s the other big departure from the norm,” the producer said. “We aren’t filming months ahead of time. We’ll film officially Monday through Friday. Monday new episodes air and we will watch them together. Live. Followed by the candle ceremony where Colt will choose who stays and who goes. After that will be a live Q&A. All streamed live.”

The room became even quieter than it had when Casey had walked in the night before.

“We’re going to have to watch ourselves on television? Together?” Tessa asked. “And then Colt will choose who to send home on live TV?”

“Live streaming, actually,” he said. “But essentially, yes.” The producer smiled as though this was a great idea. The silence in the room showed that it wasn’t just Casey who found this idea terrifying. “Yes. This is just one of the show’s innovations. We’re keeping things as close to real time as possible. This will make it easier for all of you in the long run. No long four-month periods after the show where you have to keep quiet. The longest you’ll have to keep any secrets is a little over a month.”

While that made sense, the invasiveness of the show’s filming was sinking into Casey. Live streaming in the house? Watch parties together? Live Q&As every week?

She never should have said yes to Colt. Despite his alluring hazel eyes and the feel of his lips. But even thinking about his lips, she knew exactly why she said yes. And would do it again.

“That bad, huh?” Tessa said.

“What?”

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