The Game: A Dark Taboo Romance

by LP Lovell

“Think about it a little differently now, little lamb?” Tobias places his fingertip beneath my chin, lifting my head. “And I promise, you’ll think very differently of it after tonight.”

  Preston slides out of the booth, then holds out his hand. “Come with me, sweet Ella.”

  I glance at Tobias, feeling as though I’ll always need his approval, as though he is truly the master here despite it never being voiced. When he nods, I stand and follow Preston around the bar and down a hallway.

  He stops outside a door. “There’s a thong on the stool. A pair of stilettos. Put those on and leave your clothes here.”

  I open my mouth to protest but catch myself. My cheeks heat with humiliation.

  “Game one, Ella. You’re going to dance, and…” He chuckles as he opens the door for me, and I step in. “Tobias will tell you the rest.” The door closes behind me.

  A black lace thong lays on the stool in the corner. A pair of glittery, silver shoes sit on the floor beside it.

  I hesitate for a moment. Am I going to do this? Parade around in front of an entire club of strangers in just a thong? But I bent over a table last night and let a stranger eat my pussy. I let that same stranger fuck my face and come on me just hours ago. Comparatively, this is no worse. Shame crawls cover my skin and I take a deep breath. One million dollars. What am I willing to do for it? Sacrifice all dignity apparently.

  I slip my dress off and pull the thong over my thighs, then I step into the shoes and glance down at my naked breasts. My pulse skips and jumps. Am I really going to walk out of this room and into that bar nearly naked?

  Yes.

  Preston smiles when I step out, then takes my hand and leads me back to the bar. My skin prickles with awareness when we pass by the first table of men, and my first instinct is to cross my arms over my bare chest, but Preston shakes his head. “Act the part, Ella.”

  So I do. I force my arms by my side and walk across the bar with as much confidence as I can manage. Tobias watches from the corner booth, and when we stop at the end of the table, he grins. “Perfect. Now for the game.” He points across the room to a tall, dark-haired man leaned against one of the tables. “Ella, you must make that man fight any other man here.”

  This is not at all what I thought the first game would be. While I’m thankful they didn’t tell me to fuck him, that would have proven easy.

  “You have two hours. Good luck, little lamb.” Tobias slides out of the booth.

  “And we'll be watching,” Preston whispers before he follows Tobias toward the stairwell.

  And here I stand, topless and confused in the middle of a strange bar wondering what the point of making two men fight could be.

  A waitress stops beside me and offers me a drink. “Vodka tonic. Compliments of Mr. Benton.” Minutes pass and I haven’t moved or come up with an idea as to how to carry out this task.

  The seconds I polish off my drink the waitress almost immediately replaces it. “Mr. Benton said to tell you one hour, fifty minutes,” she says before walking off.

  My mind skips and hops over scenarios, pulling scenes from movies, and the only conclusion I come to as to how I can accomplish this task is that one guy in here needs to feel like he has to protect me. Which means I must make myself seem helpless or pathetic or…

  My gaze strays to a group of men sitting at the table to my right. The man on the end lifts his glass, and I notice his split knuckles then the butterfly stitches on his cheek. And that’s enough to make him look like the kind who likes a fight.

  I wrestle the fear pummeling through me as I approach him, and I struggle to keep my hand from shaking as I place it on his hard shoulder. “On the house,” I whisper as I swing one leg over his lap and straddle him. I have no idea what I’m doing and I’m sure it shows.

  I force myself to move in beat to the music blaring over the sound system, though I know I’m stiff and awkward.

  “Damn,” he says, and even though his hands keep twitching by his side, he never touches me.

  A lap dance won’t be enough. I need him to feel something if I have any hopes of making him fight. There’s a sliver of guilt at the thought that I’m dragging him into whatever this is I signed up for, but... “I never do this for free.” I rub a hand over his chest. “But there’s something about you.”

  “Jesus, woman.”

  The song ends. I stop moving but remain seated on his lap with my arms draped around his shoulder. “Thank you,” I say.

  His eyes narrow. “For what?”

  “For not touching me.” I smile. “It’s rare for a guy in here to respect me.” I drop my gaze to his lips then push off his lap. “I wish more guys were like you.” And I take a deep breath, praying that simple statement was enough as I walk away.

  The guy in the back of the room—the one who Tobias told me to get to fight— watches me as a girl shakes her ass in front of him. He tosses money on the floor before he smacks her hip and motions for her to leave, then he beckons me with a curl of his finger.

  Everything about this situation unsettles me. His gaze drags over my body, LANDING between my thighs when I stop in front of him. “I bet your pussy is pretty, isn’t it?” The guy slaps a palm over the tabletop. “On the table, sweet cheeks.”

  Disgust knots my stomach, but I force a smile as I step up on the table and shake my hips to the beat of the music. A few lines in, he tells me to turn around and bend over, and when I do, my gaze locks with the guy I hope will play the hero.

  “Don’t stop moving, whore,” the guy says, then pulls my thong to the side. Before I can react, his rough fingertip grazes my asshole, and I topple off the table to get away from him. The moment my feet hit the floor, I slap him across the face.

  “You little slut…” He grabs me by the waist, and just as I try to shove him away, someone takes me by the shoulders and yanks me out of his hold.

  “You got a problem motherfucker?” The guy with the butterfly stitches steps between us.

  “Mind your own fucking business.” The other guy pushes up his sleeves. Even though I was supposed to make this happen, I hate that it is. I don’t want my defender to get hurt, but I definitely want that pervert to get punched.

  Without warning, the nice guy headbutts him, and all-out chaos ensues.

  Fists are thrown, men shout. Before I know it, three other guys have stepped in. A chair goes crashing against a wall. In the midst of it all, I get shoved several feet away and when I turn to run, Tobias is standing right behind me.

  “I tell you two men—” His attention drifts to the brawling heap in the corner— “And you give me four. Impressive, Ms. Taylor. Very Impressive.”

  Preston appears beside him. He grabs the back of my neck and presses his lips to mine. “You win, sweet Ella.” He escorts me to a changing room, then dresses me himself. When we come out, Tobias is gone. “Where did—” But no questions. I swallow. “Tobias is gone.”

  “He’s handling business,” Preston says as he leads me through the back exit and into the back of the waiting limo. Just as the car begins to pull off, I notice Tobias exit the club with the sleazy guy who touched me. He leads him into the dark alleyway.

  What are they doing? And what have I just done?

  7

  TOBIAS

  Rapists aren’t viewed in the savoriest of light, and it only takes a few hundred bucks to get a group of junkies to beat him to death. Plenty of people manage to skirt by the reach of justice, slipping through the cracks and crevices, but rest assured karma always finds them.

  I take one last look at the man crumpled on the ground and bleeding. “Really, death is a kindness,” I say, straightening my suit jacket as I exit the alleyway. My phone rings in my pocket as I head toward the car parked at the side of the road with its headlights running. I pull it out and press it to my ear just as the driver opens my door. “Yes?”

  “How did she do?” Mine and Preston’s partner, Three, ask.

  “Very well. She is perfect and I think…
” A chuckle works up my throat as I sink into the back seat. “I think this will go over quite well.”

  There’s a long moment of silence. “Good,” he says, but I don’t miss the disdain lacing his voice.

  Maybe he’s attached to this one. . . “You wouldn’t be rethinking our agreement, would you?”

  “We’ve done this four times already. There’s never been a problem with me letting go before.” Because we haven’t had to let go necessarily. The players take care of that for us, meeting their untimely demise by their own choice. But even so, the hesitation in his voice, the touch of anxiety lying beneath. Three likes this one. A lot.

  “She’s different, Three. She’s very different.” Innocent and obedient, beautiful and very, very good with her mouth.

  He huffs over the line. “She’s a woman. They’re all the same, Tobias.”

  “Such a shame you believe that,” I say, then hang up the phone just as the car pulls away from the curb.

  Ella Taylor, my sweet little sacrificial lamb, is different from the rest. . .

  8

  The next morning I’m ordered to dress, again in an outfit the two men have chosen—a pencil skirt, heels, and a crisp, white dress shirt. Then we head to the looming tower of Six Degrees Media where Tobias and Preston part ways. I follow Tobias into the elevator, and we go straight to the top floor and into a conference room. The men surrounding the massive table in the center of the room look up from the paperwork spread out in front of them.

  “This is Ella, my assistant,” Tobias says. He takes a seat at the head of the table, then jots something down on a piece of paper and passes it to me. “Ella, dear, would you go grab us coffees?”

  I stare down at the paper. It’s a coffee order.

  “Is there a problem?” he asks.

  “I need a way to pay for it.”

  His gaze drags over my body. “I think you can figure out a way to pay. Let's call it a game, shall we?”

  Of course. Why not? I force a smile on my way out of the office, a newly forming hatred for him bubbling away. I think he just likes my humiliation, and why not? He’s paying to watch me squirm after all.

  I wait in line at the coffee shop, then place my order, trying to work out a way to pay for these coffees without money.

  “That will be twenty-six and forty-five cents.”

  I look up at the guy behind the register who is smiling like it's the best day of his life.

  One million dollars hang in the balance. I glance down at the note in my hand then feel around on my dress as I anxiously glance around the floor. “Shit!” By now, two of the five drinks are already at the register. I spin around and retrace my steps, dragging my hands through my hair and hoping to god it makes me look distraught before I make my way back to the counter. “I must have dropped my card.” I take a breath, purposefully not looking up at him. “It's my second day on the job. And my boss—These are for this big business meeting of his...” I think about Sawyer. I let that hurt and betrayal seep through me until tears blur my vision and my cheeks heat. “I’m going to get fired…”

  A tear rolls down my cheek when I finally glance up. The cashier offers a sympathetic shrug, already fishing in his pocket. “Let me get them for you.”

  “You don't have to—”

  He smiles the sweetest smile. “It's no problem really.”

  “Thank you so, so much.”

  He pulls his card from his pocket and swipes it through the register. A few minutes later, I walk out of the coffee shop with five coffees, a smile, and one guilty conscience. When I get my million dollars, I'll be sure to come back and give him way more than twenty-six bucks.

  When I get back to the office, Preston is at the table, passing out coffee. The small smile on my face fades when Tobias glances up at me. “How thoughtful of you, Ella, but we already have coffees.”

  Preston grins as he reaches in his back pocket for his wallet. He hands me a fifty-dollar bill. “Hope that covers the cost.” Then winks before taking a seat.

  I want to scream. None of this makes sense. I sit in that room, listening to them go over business proposals. I fetch their lunches, at least this time Tobias provides me with money. When the meeting adjourns around two in the afternoon, everyone files out of the room except for Tobias, myself, and Preston.

  Preston glances at his phone. “I have a meeting with Thompson.”

  “I'll take Ella, then.” Tobias starts toward the door. “There's something I want to show her.” The sinister way he smirks makes me feel like an animal caught in a trap.

  Preston stops me as I pass, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead. It’s disarming, to say the least. “I'll miss you, sweet Ella.”

  I follow Tobias outside the building and into the sweltering heat of the bustling city. “Hope you don’t mind a walk…” he says, then leads me down the sidewalk. Eventually, we pass by my apartment. The eviction notice tacked to the door burns its way through my mind. Of course, I’m sure I could get the apartment back after this little arrangement is over, but I think maybe I’ll move away. Start over. Maybe Fort Lauderdale or Key West...

  Eventually, we get caught at a crosswalk. I stare straight ahead even though I feel Tobias staring down at me.

  “Did it destroy you when Sawyer left?”

  I squint against the sun when I glance up at him. Is there anything about my life this man doesn’t know?

  “All those posts you made on Six Degrees. The quotes about lost love, about lovers turning into strangers, the songs, all sad and pathetic, reminiscent of heartbreak.” He smiles like he enjoys the twinge of pain coursing through my chest at this very moment. “Did it destroy you?”

  It did destroy me. I was heartbroken, angry, ashamed, and Tobias knows that. “It hurt,” I say just as the crosswalk turns green.

  “As it should have.” People press in around us as we cross the street, and he takes my hand, sweeping his thumb over my knuckle like he’s some lover. “He was fucking around on you for nearly a year.” He glances down, studying me like he’s waiting for me to break. I’d known Sawyer was cheating on me, but a year… I fight the emotions I don’t want Tobias to see.

  “Her name is Maria,” he says, slowing his stroll to lean by my ear. “And you know what, Ella? She knew about you, and she didn't care.”

  My heart rate steadily picks up. I don’t want to know these things.

  “How does that make you feel, little lamb? Does it make you angry that she didn't care, that she thought she was better than you?”

  I want to tell Tobias to fuck off. I want to slap him, but I can't, so I just keep holding his hand as we make our way down the busy sidewalk until we stop outside of Elmo’s restaurant.

  “I have a surprise for you.” Tobias points through the window at a brunette. “That's Maria. She's waiting on Sawyer just like you used to do. Same restaurant. The same booth even. It’s almost like she has your old life.” And although the question of how he knows all of this presses in on me like a shrinking room, I can't ask it. I watch Maria through the window, trying to force out the idea of Sawyer, but soon enough the floodgates break and I’m bombarded with memories. I can still smell the crisp scent of his Chanel Blue. I can still hear how low and rough his voice would drop when he'd whisper he wanted to fuck me right on that table. Glaring through the restaurant window, I swallow. I’m all too certain he tells Maria the same things. His painting that once hung over our couch, may very well be over her couch now—their couch. Things that were once mine are hers, and I hate her for it.

  “Wonder where he is...” Tobias coos in my ear.

  As if on cue, Sawyer walks out from the restroom and takes a seat next to the woman. He grabs her jaw and kisses her with passion and want as her fingers trail through his dark hair. That metaphorical knife jabs me deeply, leaving me no choice but to fight back the tears.

  Tobias guides me away from the window. “I wonder what kind of person he told her you were?”

  Why would he do
this to me? What is the point?

  “It must be frustrating, unable to ask any questions.” He laughs as we continue down the city sidewalk. “Just know, there are reasons for everything, Ella. Reasons for everything in life.”

  We walk the next several blocks in silence, and as hard as I try, I can’t get the image of Sawyer kissing Maria out of my head. I hate that he can still hurt me. I hate that I care.

  We pass by shops and hotels until Tobias finally stops in front of a brick-faced building. Whistling, he types a code into the keypad beside the entrance and the door pops open. A gust of cold air hits me when we step inside the bare entrance. I follow Tobias through another door into a pitch-black room. His hand lands on the small of my back, guiding me through the dark. There’s the jingle of keys, then another lock clicks. A door swings open, revealing a large, dimly lit bar on the other side. Men line the counter. Women in tiny, rhinestone dresses carry drink trays around the room.

  “This should be more than interesting,” he says on our way toward the bar. And I have no doubt it will...

  When we stop at the counter, the bartender glances up from the register. “Mr. Benton, so good to see you this evening.” His attention shifts to me on a crooked smile. “And you must be Ella. A pleasure to meet you.”

  It’s as though there’s an entire underground society Tobias is the center of, all-knowing and ever-present. The man takes a set of keys from a drawer beneath the counter and passes them to Tobias. “Pod three,” he says. And with that, we turn from the bar and make our way across the room.

  “Are you curious yet?” Tobias asks.

  Questions swim in my head. So many questions, none of which I can ask, so I settle with: “I'm always curious when it comes to you, Tobias.”

  We go down a narrow hallway where a series of neon blue lights hang above the line of doorways. The first sign reads Pod 8. We pass the door, then the large picture window beside it. When I glance through the glass, I see two people fucking on what looks to be a small stage, and in the corner of the room, stands a single man. And each room we pass is the same. Behind the glass, people carry out sexual acts while others watch.