Half an hour later I’m in my suite, staring forlornly at the vampy black halter-neck midi dress laid out for me in my dressing room. I’m meant to change into the clingy but elegant figure-hugging dress for my date with Oliver in fifteen minutes, now that I’ve had a bath and made myself presentable.
But seeing Oliver is the last thing I want right now. I wish I could just curl up into a ball under my duvet and sink into the blissful oblivion of sleep. Even after a bath (followed by a searingly hot shower for good measure), I still feel dirty. It’s as if I’ll never be able to wash away the deep mental stains and emotional scars left by this entire experience, and by tonight’s round of the Wedding Games in particular.
If I do somehow miraculously manage to get off this island alive, one th
