The Game by L.P. Lovell

27

Istep into the kitchen wearing the blouse and pencil skirt that Tobias instructed me to wear today—No bra, of course.

“Now, Tobias, why don't our secretaries look that good?” Preston smirks.

Tobias's gaze slowly drifts from me to the paper in front of him. “You'd never get any work done.”

Preston hands me a cup of coffee. “Ah, how I will miss our morning coffee, sweet Ella.” He kisses the side of my neck before leaving the room.

What does he mean by that? Are they leaving me? Did I lose? I thought we made a deal that night on the bridge. Jump or stay with them forever. I want them forever. It may be stupid and twisted and wrong, but if I stay with them then none of that matters because this world, their world, is one in which the normal, the sane, the inferior....they do not apply. He said I'm his little lamb, but what if that's all part of the game?

Tobias presses a finger beneath my chin. “Always so many questions,” he says, narrowing his eyes.

“I...”

“I can see them in your eyes, little lamb. After all, the eyes are the windows to the soul.” He drags his thumb over my bottom lip, silencing me before he leans in close and kisses me along my jaw. “And I will miss you, too...”

He pushes up from the stool as panic works through me. They're going to abandon me. How foolish of me to believe this could be anything other than a game.

“Come now, little lamb. We have work to do.”

Day six. Who will they have me kill now? After all, isn't this a nasty game of Russian Roulette where I am the loaded gun?

* * *

The entire rideto Tobias's offices, anxiety thrums through me. I thought they wanted me, but what if my wanting them is the game? I have done things that, without them, might seem awful and unforgivable.

The limo stops to the side of the building, but unlike the other times I've come here, we don't go in through the front. Instead, we use the side entrance, and by the time they lead me into their office, I feel sick. “Take a seat,” Tobias says.

Preston grabs a large stack of files from the desk and brings them to me, plopping them down on my lap before giving Tobias a knowing glance.

“Pick one.”

I thumb through the stack. A woman’s name is printed on each folder’s tab. Taking the one on top, I open it to a photo, a resume, and notes. Notes on what she likes. Where she eats. And in each file, the following is circled in red ink: Family is dead. All alone. No job. No prospects.

I swallow hard, allowing my fingers to linger on the paper. Are these my replacements?

“Pick one,” Tobias repeats impatiently.

I hand the first file to him, unable to not imagine what her dark hair will look like fisted in Tobias’s hand, her lips parting as Preston makes her come. I swallow the acidic bite of jealousy back. So, this is it then?

A displeased frown sets on Tobias's full lips. “You didn't even look at the rest.”

“You told me to pick.” I stand up, folding my arms over my chest. “I picked.”

Tobias cocks a sharp brow, then shoves the file in my direction. “Pick. Look through each file and pick the woman you think is better than you.”

My temper spikes in reaction to his cruelty. While he's done awful things to me this feels like the worst.

“They will all be better than me.” They will. None of them would be stupid enough to fall into this trap the way I have. I clench my jaw. They may play, they may win or lose, but they will not give their hearts to monsters. Because only a truly lonely, desperate girl would do that.

“Wrong answer, little lamb.” Tobias’s nostrils flare. “Have we taught you nothing?”

Preston moves to stand beside Tobias, whispering something in his ear. Tobias closes his eyes. “Pick one, Ella.”

I angrily flip through several files until I find a blond who looks like a cheerleader. “She looks nice. Gullible. Stupid. It's always the cheerleader types who take it in the ass.”

Preston stifles a laugh, but Tobias yanks the file from my hand and chucks it to the side of the room. “Another one!”

I flip through three more until I find a redhead. “Oh, she looks cheap and slutty.” I hand it to him.

“I warn you, Ella,” Tobias says as he takes the folder and throws it down. “Find the perfect one.”

“She doesn't exist! No girl can win your game.”

A slow smile pulls at his lips. “Is that so?”

“Sweet Ella, why would you say such a thing?” Preston shifts behind me, placing his hands on my arms. I suddenly feel soiled and cheap, a whore who kills and begs to be fucked by two men at the same time without ever seeing a dollar for her efforts.

Tobias rounds the desk and grabs my chin in a ruthless grip. “I think you've forgotten this is a game...” he breathes against my lips. Then he kisses me the way they do in movies. Tender and sweet, in a way that weakens my knees and makes me want to believe in happily ever afters and all the Hollywood bullshit.

He pulls away, smiling like a bastard. “But, isn't that what love is anyway? A game, my dear little lamb?”

It's just a game. Just a game. They don't want me. They want to replace me. “I wouldn't know,” I whisper, hoping he feels the blow I so desperately want to deal. But the truth is, I can't hurt someone like him. He has no feelings to hurt.

“Oh,” he releases my chin from his grip, “I think you know, little lamb…” And with that he backs away, picking a file from the desk. He thumbs through it, every so often glancing up at me.

“You don't understand,” he says, tossing the folder to the desk. “I cannot pick the next girl.”

I feel my brow crease. He can’t pick the next girl—The next girl. There have been more before me. I knew that. They told me themselves—They never last past day three. How then, was I picked? It’s day six. Who picked me?

“You have to pick, Ella,” Preston says, grabbing the stack and handing it back to me. “You've no idea how important this decision is.”

But the problem is, I don’t want to. And not for the right reasons. I shouldn’t want to pick, because the next girl will be subjected to the same humiliation and unethical decisions I have. But the reason I don’t want to pick is that I don’t want any other woman with them—I don’t want Tobias to call anyone else his pretty little lamb. And that is the only reason I sift through the folders once again. Because I know this is fucked up, and selfishly, I don’t want to believe I’m this depraved.

I glance at the pictures. Every girl is alone. Broken. Just like I was. And maybe in a sick, twisted way these two men are saviors, devils casting deals with lost souls, but I don't want them to be anyone else's demons. Just mine.

Every file I go through, every girl I look at, I can't help but imagine her in their arms with that bliss I've grown to crave swallowing her instead of me. My heart bangs against my ribs. How is it that in six days, they've unraveled the very fabric of my being? My chest tightens, and I can’t stand it any longer. I take the file folder of Lily Davis. A twenty-seven-year-old brunette with bright blue eyes.

I don't know why I've chosen her, maybe just to end the torment. Swallowing, I hand the file to Tobias. “This one.”

“Why?” he asks, opening and staring down at her photograph.

“Gut feeling I guess.”

“Very well.” He pushes off the desk and straightens his jacket. “Go out into the lobby and take her to the conference room.”

She’s here already. They’re all here? Waiting? “I'm sorry...” I start and he snaps his fingers. His entire demeanor shifts, annoyance crackling through the air. I want to think it’s because he doesn’t like this arrangement any more than I do. I need to believe that he doesn’t want to replace me. God, I’m fucked up.

On a frown, he points at the door. “Go get her.”

If ever I needed a reminder this is just a game, that was it. Although I want to tell Tobias to go fuck himself, but submission is key. And dammit, now more than ever, I’m determined to walk away with that money.

With a smile, I head out of his office and into the marble lobby. There must be close to fifteen women here, all dressed up in nice clothes and high heels. All polished and perfect with no idea what fate awaits them. Selfishly I want to tell them all to run. But I can't.

I stop in the middle of the room and clear my throat. “Lily Davis?”

The slim brunette stands up, smiling as she walks toward me in her business suit. She looks so hopeful, and I know I once held that same hope.

After I lead her to the conference room and tell her Mr. Benton will be with her shortly, I leave. Halfway down the hall, I remember the day I came in for my interview, and I can’t help but wonder if the woman who showed me to this very room was their last plaything before I was. But they never made it past day three, so she couldn’t have been...Or maybe that was a lie. A manipulation to make me feel special. How would I know?

Tobias’s voice floats out from his office as I approach. “I don't care about the change in rules. I—” I stop at the door and he notices me, falling silent for a moment. “If you must. But she will not stay the night. This is my last night.” He slams the receiver down then drags his hands through his dark hair.

Preston already has my purse in his hand when he begins to lead me back out the door. “You have to go to Three today, Sweet Ella. But we’ll see you tonight at the ball.” A fissure of genuine fear winds through me as he leads me down the hall.

We’re at the elevator before Tobias catches up.

Only moments ago I wanted to gauge his eyes out, but it’s always better the devil you know. “Tobias?” I plead as we step into the elevator.

“Rules are rules, little lamb.”

I watch the number of each floor light up as we pass it, and all I can think about is how I don’t want to go to Three. Tobias's insistent hand presses against the small of my back when the doors open, guiding me outside to the waiting car.

We stop by the open door, but instead of looking him in the eyes, I stare at the perfect stitching of his jacket. “Please, don't make me go,” I whisper so quietly I almost hope he didn't hear me. I only have one more strike and even begging can be taken as a lack of submission with him.

“Some things...” He brushes his finger over my throat as I lift my gaze, taking in the uneasy grimace on his beautiful face. “We have no choice in my sweet, little lamb.” Then he kisses me. It’s a claim, a demand, a brand. One that almost feels like a goodbye, and that scares me.

“If I were capable of feelings...” He lets the words hang in the air, and I embrace the weight of them. They make me feel less crazy for wanting him the way I do. Less weak for accepting these feelings when I know I should fight them.

Tobias ushers me inside the car and nods to the waiting driver. “Take care of my little lamb,” he says seconds before the door slams shut.

Though they may pump poison through my veins, that very poison feels as though it is what is keeping me alive. Albeit, a gnarled, darkened version of myself.