Sleep was impossible.
Every time Sasha closed her eyes, she saw the blink of the red light on the balcony, steady and merciless. Ethan's calm face haunted her, too—too calm, too composed, like a man rehearsing lines.
By morning, she felt flayed raw.
The villa buzzed with its usual chaos—makeup artists swarming, producers barking instructions, contestants laughing too loudly for the cameras—but for Sasha, everything blurred. Every lens trained on her felt sharper, every laugh a dagger.
She caught Ethan across the room, sitting with two of the guys. He smiled at something one of them said, relaxed, natural. But when his eyes lifted and met hers, it was like a current passed between them.
She looked away first.
Later, during hair and wardrobe, one of the PAs fussed with her microphone. "Don't forget," he said casually, too casually. "Balcony scenes are pulling great numbers. Whatever you two are doing—keep it up."
Her stomach dropped. Balcony scenes. Plural. They'd been watching more than last night. How much had they caught?
How much had Ethan let them catch?
By the time filming started for the day's challenge—a ridiculous trust exercise involving blindfolds and "guided walks"—Sasha's nerves were shot. And of course, fate paired her with Ethan.
She stood blindfolded, his hand brushing her arm as he led her forward. To the cameras, it was intimate. Romantic.
To her, it felt like standing on the edge of a blade.
"You're trembling," he murmured, voice low enough the microphones might miss it.
"Am I?" she whispered back. "Or are you just that good at seeing through people?"
He stopped. Just for a fraction of a second, his grip tightening. Then he moved again, voice smooth as silk. "You still don't trust me."
She bit back a laugh, sharp and hollow. "Trust you? I don't even know which script you're reading from."
The blindfold hid his face, but she could feel his stare, heavy as stone.
And in that moment, Sasha realized something chilling:
Whether Ethan was her ally or her enemy didn't matter.
Either way, he was the only one close enough to cut her throat—or catch her when she fell.