The Game by L.P. Lovell

14

Resisting arrest.

I’m booked and fingerprinted and put in a little gray and white striped jumpsuit, then shoved into a cell. This isn't what jail looks like in the movies. There are no bars, just glass with wire mesh in the middle of the panes. I sit on the little ledge built into the wall, hang my head, and cry. I told them I didn't do anything. I denied the charge of kidnapping because I had nothing to do with Maria being abducted—At least I don’t think I did. To be honest, I don’t know what I believe at this point. The beige—not blue— walls of that apartment cycle through my mind, right along with thoughts of Maria. Tobias. Preston. My head spins with a lost sense of reality, with the notion that maybe I’m crazy.

Hours go by before an officer opens the cell. “Someone posted bail for you.” He leads me to a room at the end of the hall, hands me my belongings, and tells me to get changed before closing the door.

I already know who posted the bail, the only person—people— who would, and it sends an uneasy feeling coursing through me.

Once I'm dressed, I'm buzzed through a series of security doors, and when the last one opens, my gaze lands on Tobias Benton. His tailored suit and savage beauty are a stark contrast to the white walls of the jailhouse.

He turns away from the counter as I approach, jaw ticcing and his green eyes swirling with danger.

The officer behind the counter glances from Tobias to me then slips a piece of paper across to me. “Your court date is June first. Sign by the X.”

When I scribble my name over the line, I have a flashback to three nights ago when I signed Tobias's contract. I pass the acknowledgment back and Tobias takes my hand. “Come on, little lamb.” I want to ask him why he came for me, but aside from the rules and the game— a game I’m not even sure we’re playing anymore. I think I’d rather remain naive to his most likely wicked intentions.

A black car pulls to the curb when we step outside. I expect Preston to be lying in wait within the shadowy interior when I climb in, but he’s absent when we climb inside.

Tobias drums his fingers over his knee as the vehicle pulls away. Anger and annoyance seep from him, slow and steady like toxic fumes leaking from a volcano right before an eruption. “Strike three, little lamb.” He grabs my chin, tilting my head back as he trails his nose along my throat. “Your little stunt just cost me one million dollars. I don't like losing unnecessary money.” He grabs my skirt with his free hand, hitching it up. “How ever will you repay me, Ella?”

No matter how terrible Tobias may be, no matter how terrified I am of him, there is a primitive instinct that draws me to him. Like the proverbial moth, I flit right to his flame and dance around its heat, begging for my wings to catch fire. I spread my legs for him, and his hand sinks between my thighs.

“That's my sweet little lamb.” His thumb presses over my clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through me. “So wet, Ella, always so wet,” he murmurs against the crook of my neck as he takes control of my body.

Within seconds, he has me on the edge, all thoughts blissfully absent as I tumble into an oblivion of pleasure. And the very moment I relax, soaking in the satisfying heat of my orgasm, he fists my hair and shoves my face to his crotch.

“You have three minutes to make me come if you really want me to save you.” He unfastens his fly and pulls out his swollen cock. “And I have the power to get you out of anything, Ella. Even murder.”

He forces my face closer. “The world is not as it seems, my little lamb. And it is up to you whether you want to be a pawn or a queen.”

What choice do I have? I’m totally at his whim. A piece on his chessboard. More than that though, I don’t want to think about Sawyer and Maria and my looming insanity. I want to get lost in the simplicity of him and me and the electricity that always seems to course between us. I slowly trace my tongue over his length, then around his head. I have three minutes to be saved from things I'm most likely unaware I need saving from, so I take the tip of him between my lips and pump my fist at just the right speed.

“That’s it, little lamb.” His fingers tighten in my hair as he thrusts up, forcing me to take all of him in. I gag from the unexpected force, my eyes begin to water, and he groans. “Fuck...”

I fight the urge to pull away as his hips lift from the seat and hot come shoots down my throat.

“Oh, Ella...”

That couldn’t have been more than two minutes, and small victories are all I have where Tobias Benton is concerned.

* * *

The car dropsus at the front of Tobias’s apartment building, and as I follow him into the penthouse, I begin to wonder if any of this is real or simply an orchestration. One thing I am certain of though: Tobias is the human form of the devil, and this little game of his—of theirs—runs deeper than my feeble mind can fathom.

Preston stands in the living room, his muscular arms folded over his chest and a crude look of disapproval on his face. Suddenly, I feel like a disobedient child and drop my chin to my chest. I shouldn’t feel shame. I know I shouldn’t, but I do.

Tobias steps behind me, placing his hands on my shoulder in a firm grasp. “Tell me, Ella. What are the rules?” Out of the rules, I know the one he wants me to say.

“Don't leave,” I whisper.

“That’s right.” He squeezes my shoulder. “Never leave, Ella.”

Preston takes a step toward me. “Tell us why you left.”

Because I was afraid. Afraid of what day three held. Afraid of what the next game would be, afraid that at the end of this, they may actually kill me. After all, I thought they had killed Maria, and this had gone too far. But they didn’t kill her... But I can’t say any of that to them.

“Ella. . .” Tobias whispers my name as he and Preston corner me like a hunted animal. “Tell us what you’re afraid of.”

It's not what I'm afraid of, but who. “You didn't kill her,” I barely breathe the words. “I saw her.”

“Who?” Preston asks.

My back hits the wall. Now, both men are inches from my face. Tobias sweeps my hair behind my ear then places his hand on the wall beside me, caging me in.

“Maria.”

The satisfaction on both their faces is nothing short of wicked. “You wouldn't have believed otherwise, now would you?” Tobias says.

I rest the base of my skull against the wall. I'm slowly breaking apart and, sooner or later, I'm going to snap. “I don't understand this.”

“Ah, but this is the game, sweet Ella.” Preston trails his fingers down the center of my chest.

“It's not for you to understand.” Tobias chuckles. “All you have to worry about is playing along for four more days.”

Four days. Four days that may very well ruin my life. That may drive me to the edge of whatever sanity I'm clinging to. And then what? As of this moment, Preston Lucas and Tobias Benton are the only reality I have. Everything I think I know about my life is now skewed. And this depraved game is not a game, it's my life. “I just don't understand what's happening.”

A rare, sympathetic smile crosses Tobias’s face as his thick fingers sweep along my jaw. “We tried to explain that to you from the start.”

“Where did you go when you left, Ella?” Preston asks.

“It doesn't matter,” I say, immediately wishing I hadn't.

Tobias’s eyes flash before he presses into me. “You went home?”

“Yes, I went home.”

Preston laughs. “You have no home.”

“Preston,” Tobias scolds. “Careful not to upset her. . .”

“She left, Tobias.”

“I'm well aware, but she's back. Our prodigal little lamb.” His thumb skims along my lower lip, and I battle the emotional whiplash that is the two of them. Since when does Tobias play the good guy? “And what was waiting for you at home?”

Under Tobias’s scrutiny, I shrink. “Nothing.”

“Nothing? Then why did I come and pick you up from the city jail? What did you do, Ella?”

I glance between the two men, wishing I could disappear, that I could go back to three days prior and start over.

“Why, Ella, did you go to jail?” Preston asks. “Was it because of Sawyer?”

The mere mention of his name is like a knife in the chest. Sawyer. Sawyer. Sawyer. “I...” I slowly creep along the wall, and they follow suit. Inch by inch. Step by step.

“I'll tell you what,” Tobias says. “Five minutes. You have five minutes to ask us any question you want, as long as it does not pertain to the game. Seem fair?”

I know it's most likely some kind of trap. He’s like the devil trying to trick me into selling my soul, but... “Why was Sawyer in my apartment?”

“Your apartment?” Preston says. “Was he in your apartment?”

312 Water Street. Apartment 3B. That is my apartment. “Yes. Everything had been moved. The walls were repainted. Maria was there. In my apartment.” Not dead like they had led me to believe.

How does it feel to have a murderer inside you?He lied to me. Tobias let her go and she went right back to Sawyer. To my apartment. To the man I thought I was going to marry. Tears build in my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. “She’s living my life,” I whisper.

Preston cups my face and gently kisses my lips. “It's okay.”

Tobias studies me, a curious smirk decorating his face. “The thing is, little lamb, we know nothing about you.” That is a lie. They know too much about me. “All we know about anyone is what they upload to Six Degrees.” He pulls his phone from his suit pocket and taps the screen “Sawyer,” he says. “Sawyer Levine? Ah yes, here our dear friend is, and my, doesn’t he look quite happy?” He passes the device to me. A picture of Sawyer and Maria takes up much of the screen. The worst part is: They’re in the apartment that once was mine.

I scroll through the photos, back to when we broke up six months ago. There's a picture of him and Maria with moving boxes in the background only a few days after he left me. The walls of the apartment are still Serenity Blue. The color I picked out. God, have I lost my mind? Did I somehow forget the last six months, or create some kind of new reality? Am I crazy? “But. . .” I trail off, flipping through picture after picture. How do I have so many memories of being alone in that apartment, of crying myself to sleep in that bed if he was the one who kept it?

Preston peers over Tobias's shoulder. “Look at your page, Ella. Maybe that will help jog your memory.”

I pull up my profile and go back six months—And there’s nothing aside from a vague post here and there about a broken heart. For the most part, to anyone who may have browsed my social media, I seemed happy. The page is littered with pictures of me smiling in Central Park even though I was breaking apart. Photographs of wine bottles and dinners. But not one picture was taken inside my apartment. . .

“Still have questions?” Tobias asks as I pass him the phone.

I’m so confused trying to fumble with my frayed mind as memories flit through my head. Memories in that goddamn apartment. “I was there three days ago.” Tears of frustration choke me. “I got dressed to come interview with you. In that apartment.”

Preston glances at me like I’m crazy. “Did you?”

I think back to that day. To my daily run through the park by Bow Bridge. I went home. I rummaged through my closet until I found the perfect dress, the perfect heels, and then I left...didn't I?

“You were arrested, Ella,” Tobias says. “Booked and charged for disobeying your restraining order.”

What restraining order? Does Sawyer have a restraining order against me?

Tobias swipes a finger over my lips. “For kidnapping. Which, well…” He laughs. “I take full responsibility for that...But how do you think you got that restraining order placed on your pretty little head? You're hiding something, Ella. Not only from us but from yourself.” His soft expression hardens, then he glances at his watch. “Well, your little shenanigans have put a damper on day three, haven't they? Only one strike left, little lamb and game three to play.”

Preston shifts beside me. “Time for the walk, sweet Ella...”

“Ah, yes.” Tobias holds out his hand. “On day three, there's always the walk.”