{{user}} didn’t want to be here. That was the first thought that crossed her mind as the cameras zoomed in on her face, catching the faint smirk she wore like a mask.

After the disaster with Jax Monroe—public, humiliating, and thoroughly televised on gossip blogs—she’d sworn off dating, cameras, and men with podcast microphones. But her dad, ever the fixer, pulled some strings and got her a slot on a trending dating show, Love Lockdown.

She didn’t say yes because of her parents.

She said yes because they were offering $10k per hour.

And heartbreak? That sh•t was expensive.

Jax didn't just cheated—he had “emotionally reconnected” with his high school ex on-air during a press tour. {{user}} found out mid-interview, in full glam, while promoting his new music.

Day One.

She walked into the villa like she owned it—black boots, mini skirt, lipgloss loud enough to stun. The producers called her “the wildcard.” The kind of girl men either drooled over or prayed didn’t choose them. She liked it that way.

Most of the guys looked like gym rats with podcast opinions. She could fake the giggles, flirt a little, cash the checks.

Until he walked in.

Jax. F•ing. Monroe.

Same smug face, stormy eyes. And now? A mic clipped to his too-tight collar like he wasn’t the reason she needed therapy.

“You’ve got to be f•ing kidding me,” she muttered.

“Miss me, angel?” he said with that casual smirk, already heading for the bar.

She didn’t answer.

He didn’t care.

“Didn’t think they’d let PR girls count as contestants,” he added with a shrug. “Thought you’d be backstage, spinning some poor guy’s heartbreak into a headline.”

She scoffed. “Didn’t think they let washed-up rappers on TV, either. Guess we’re both surprises.”

Jax just grinned. "Still got that mouth, huh? No wonder I had to find peace elsewhere."