Winning the Game

by Leesa Bow

  “I’m not sure …” She lowers her gaze to her purse.

  “Don’t even think about,” I add quickly. “Tonight’s on me.” I head to the bar before she can argue. One thing I’ve learnt in a short time is Tori is stubborn. A trait I’m familiar with from being single for a long time.

  I can’t help thinking, Has she been in love? Suffered a horrible break up? How many boyfriends? Why the stiff demeanour? All questions I don’t usually ask about the girls I date.

  Except I don’t date.

  It’s about the sex.

  To forget.

  Mum’s right. I’ve had a long list of girls I’ve never cared about until now.

  Fuck.

  “What will it be, mate?”

  “Ah.” I stare at the barman blankly while I shake off the haze. “Gin and soda. Hold up. Make it a cocktail.” I read out the first one on the cocktail board. “Sex on the Beach.”

  A few minutes later Tori’s assessing her cocktail, toying with the umbrella in the pineapple piece. “Sex on the Beach. You think I need this? Wait, you do, otherwise you wouldn’t be smiling like a fool.”

  Tori’s not smiling and I quickly hide my delight in her reaction. “Not at all. Well, not entirely. I’m impressed you know what Sex on the Beach is by one sip. I was going to order you a gin and soda.”

  Now she is smiling, and her whole face lights up. “Why do you think I’d like gin and soda?”

  “Seem the type to think about what you eat.” My gaze lowers to her chest, to her tiny waist and those perfect hips.

  “Rhett.”

  I look up. “You’re fit. I appreciate that you respect your body and didn’t think you’d drink something full of sugar. So gin and soda came to mind.”

  “You ordered me something ten times worse.” She doesn’t look at me as she stirs the straw. Then she takes a long sip.

  I grin, liking the fact it’s full of sugar and she’s still drinking it. “I thought you needed something stronger to loosen up. And it’s the first thing that came to mind.”

  Her eyebrows arch. “Sex is the first thing that came to mind?”

  I raise my chin, challenging her. “You know me, don’t you?”

  Tori takes another sip, stirs, and sips some more. “I think”—she glances up through hooded eyes—“sex is always on your mind, as with most guys.”

  I laugh. “Animal instinct. We want to mate.”

  Tori rolls her eyes. She drinks some more and I lean my elbows on the table so my face is closer to hers. “Maybe I’ve thought about you in my bed.” Her lips stop sucking. “Maybe I haven’t.” I wink. “Truth is I asked you here because I like you, and I could tell something’s upset you. I’m not a complete arse, and I’m in tune to a chick’s emotions. I know when they’re not acting themselves.” I give her a pointed look. “You’re not the easiest person to talk to, and I thought a cocktail would help you open up to me. I can’t have my boss upset now can I? Because I need you to help me, and you need to be one hundred percent on the ball.”

  “Knew it would be about you,” she says dryly, and sips some more. “You’re a selfish man.”

  Yeah, I am, because part of me admits half the reason for doing this is to gain her trust, even though I want her in my bed. Unfortunately, the timing is off, because for her to trust me means doing the right thing by the show, and her. Basically, every girl not a contestant on the show is off limits for the next two months.

  Two fucking months. Hell no. There has to be some loophole, and I’ll find it because it’s what I’m trained to do.

  After years of playing football, my coach’s advice still continues to sound out in my head, even when the game is over. Football is about winning. When you’re in a game it’s all you think about. No matter the odds, you find a way to win, and never give up until the final siren sings.

  And this game has just begun.

  “My mother can’t help the way she is.” Tori takes a swig of her fourth gin and soda. “My dad apologises for her behaviour toward me but words mean little. He loves her. It’s me that brings out the worst in her.”

  I touch her hand. I want to tell Tori not to drink any more but she’s opening up, and she needs to get off her chest what’s bothering her. “I don’t see how you’re to blame. She’s your mum. She loves you.”

  The way she laughs makes my back stiffen. “She never wanted me. She loathed me from the day I was born … no, the day I was conceived,” she says harshly. Her eyes flick to mine and she looks afraid. “That’s not entirely true. God, I’m a horrible person.” She pushes the drink away. “I shouldn’t drink,” she says quietly.

  “You’re far from horrible.” I lean closer so our arms touch. The slight contact causes my dick to respond. But my head is more concerned with what she’s telling me. Tori’s tone is full of dark humour and mocking. Still, I notice the pain in her voice, maybe because I’m not the one drinking alcohol. She won’t look at me while she’s talking, only when she pauses, and I’ve been around long enough to know when a girl is hiding emotional pain.

  “He loves her so much, which is great, as she’s a hard woman to love. Dad is selfish too in his own way. He loves jet setting around the world. It was their thing even before they had me. So they promised each other if they had me, that part of their lives wouldn’t change. There was always the hired help to take care of the daughter problem. I didn’t have friends, no one who offered for me to stay with them.”

  Biting back the bitterness toward her parents I hand her a glass of water that I picked up on the last round. “Here, drink some of this. You’ll thank me tomorrow.” She downs the contents in one go. “You want some more?”

  “No, I should go,” she says.

  “You can’t drive.”

  Tori shrugs. “I’ll catch a cab.”

  “I can drive you.”

  “Not necessary.”

  “What time do you start in the morning?”

  Tori tilts her head and stares at the fan circling above us as though it offers her answers. “Seven. I’ve a meeting with the stylists about your wardrobe.”

  I smile hearing her slur stylists. “Wardrobe?”

  “Evening wear. Day wear. There’s a complete wardrobe you need to try on.”

  I don’t want to think about the show, only Tori. “Well, it’s best I get you home so you don’t make a poor decision and have me dressed in something shabby.”

  “Shabby? Nothing’s shabby. We have the best Australian designers and you’ll be looking swish.” She smacks her lips together.

  I need to get her home before she regrets coming out with me. “I’m driving you and I don’t want to hear another word.”

  “How will you get home?” Tori looks a little distressed.

  “I’ll catch a cab back here to my car.”

  A few minutes later we’re in her silver Audi sports car. She gives me her address and I punch it into my phone before turning the car toward the city. Tori lives a stone’s throw from RCP. I selected The Bartise bar because it’s close to my home, at the base of the Adelaide Hills. The location provides an awesome view of the city, and I thought if there was a chance we could end up at mine for a drink then … I stop my thoughts right there. I think about everything she’s told me. Something inside me wants to make everything right for her.

  “I think you’re pretty amazing,” I say.

  Tori smiles and lifts her head from the window. “You’ll change your mind by the end of the show. I’m a ballbreaker, you know.”

  I chuckle. “Not going to let you break my balls, gorgeous, but I’m liking that you’re thinking about them.”

  She stares at me, lips slightly apart, and a little dazed.

  “What?” I look back to the road, to her, and back to the road.

  “You called me gorgeous,” she whispers unbelievingly.

  “Yeah, I did.” Then I say, “I wish I’d met you under different circumstances because I’d like a shot at proving to you that you could actually
like me.”

  “I do like you,” she whispers.

  I’m smiling even though we’re driving in silence. When we arrive at Tori’s she directs me to an underground carpark. She gives me the pin code to punch in, and mentions her apartment is on the third floor. On a weekday after midnight the city is alive with people in the streets, and a low hum of music comes from a hotel bar down the road, where people sit at tables out on the pavement.

  “How do you sleep here?”

  “I’m used to it. It comforts me, hearing all the people outside. It makes me feel alive, part of something.”

  I walk with her to the elevator. “I can still hear the music from The Angus from here.”

  “For a club they play some pretty cool music.”

  I press the button and the doors close. “You actually go there?” I’ve heard it’s a place for people with certain sexual interests. I mean, all clubs are shopping centres to find someone to hook up with. Clubs tailor for it and it’s why people go out. Girls say they like to dance, but the girls I know … Well, I see it as a mating dance, an act of foreplay, or even a tease. But this pub is known for other things. Has Tori been there, since she lives so close?

  We stop at ground level and she leads me to the automated sliding doors opening to the city street. “Thanks for tonight, Rhett. I appreciate you listening. Apart from Ingrid, I don’t get a chance to talk much. And I don’t like to talk about my family since my mother is still involved in the entertainment business. It’s unprofessional.” She sounds weary.

  “Which is why you can talk to me. Anytime.” Pushing my hands in my front jean pockets, I look across the street to a line of taxis. “Well, I’ll head on over there. See you tomorrow.”

  “Early tomorrow.” Her voice is light, uneasy. She takes a step backwards.

  My heart races like the time I stood on a bridge in New Zealand before plunging into the gorge below. There was no doubt in my mind I’d enjoy bungee jumping, but nerves had me second-guessing. Like now. The secret is not to think. “I’m here for you, Boss?” She nods. “Good. So we have an understanding then?” I don’t wait for a reply. I dip and kiss her. It was supposed to be a goodbye kiss but she doesn’t move.

  So I keep kissing her.

  Adrenaline courses through my body. I’m jumping off that bridge again and again with the sweet taste of Tori on my lips.

  I keep my hands in my pockets to keep the kiss casual but there’s nothing casual in the way her lips press to mine. I pull back so I can look at her.

  The contented look on her face makes me want to kiss her again, only this time with my hands touching skin. “Night,” I whisper. I turn and walk away, ignoring the urge to look over my shoulder. Her reaction doesn’t matter. I know what I’m feeling. What I need to do.

  Tomorrow Tori will pretend nothing happened, and I’ll play along. But she won’t be able to deny me for long. She might be stubborn, but I’m determined.

  Game on.

  TORI

  Ingrid calls at 4 am to ask me to sit in on a meeting for the female contestants and help style their wardrobe. Last night her boyfriend, Brent, tripped down their stairs and fractured his ankle. She had to drive him to the hospital, and only arrived home an hour ago, so she needs a few more hours sleep.

  Wardrobe styling is a favourite part of my work. I love fashion, and enjoy working with the designers, offering my ideas on what the contestants should wear to suit their roles on the show.

  “I’m heading to the shower now,” I say. “I can cover you. My meeting with Rhett’s not until nine so get some rest.”

  “Thanks, Tori, I owe you. Are you happy for me to meet with Rhett, because the contestant’s styling and their interviews will take all morning?”

  “Of course. Rhett’s prepared for his interview and he’s feeling confident. It will be good to have another opinion. No sneakily promoting your girls to him. It’s going to take him a little while to settle into how we run things. When he’s comfortable with the set, then you can get out your claws.”

  Ingrid laughs. “One of my girls is going to win and you know it.”

  “I know you wouldn’t have signed someone if you didn’t think they had a shot of getting you that bonus,” I say.

  “There’s an incentive?” she asks, humouring me. “As much as I want to chat I have to go. I’ll catch you later.”

  I let out a long breath. Last night is a blur but I remember him buying me a drink, which jump-started an onslaught of emotion, resulting in my rambling. I let out a moan of embarrassment, and then I’m back to thinking about the kiss. The one that tricked me into thinking there could be something between us.

  Because after he left I thought about the way his lips caressed mine for too long.

  Yet I’m no fool.

  Rhett has a way with women—charms them, as Ingrid warned. I pride myself on my professionalism, yet in a matter of days I’m almost lured into the web he so effortlessly weaves, the reason he’s ended up in this mess, and landed himself on the show.

  Although I can’t deny I liked him kissing me. How we even got to it surprises me because my walls were firmly in place when I first set out to meet up with him. Not seeing him this morning will give me time to think everything over. With my promotion at stake, I can’t allow myself to be played.

  “You ready for some coffee?” Grant says after the final contestant’s interview is filmed.

  Each of the twelve contestants has five minutes of edited airtime. The host, James Scott, interviews each girl about her life, and why she wants to be on Contest. Filming each interview takes twenty minutes. Add wardrobe styling time, and it totals to me working for six hours without a break.

  “Thought you’d never ask.”

  Grant laughs. “You seem more relaxed today, even though you scored the short straw for the dawn screening.”

  “Maybe I’m a better actor than half of these ladies.” I smile. “I should make an appointment with Adele in make-up to cover the bags under my eyes. Talking of, I’ll praise the contestants at the next meeting for being up at 3 am for make-up and hair styling. They’ve shown no cracks in their demeanour for the camera.”

  “I’m extremely happy with all the ladies. And if your guy’s as ready as you say he is, then after interviews today we’ll take everyone to the lounge set for a celebratory drink. All the contestants will be reminded they’re being filmed, but we also want them to relax and be themselves. Hopefully, we can use some of the interaction footage for week two of the series. After the dinner date tomorrow it will be interesting to see whom Rhett will select to leave the show. At the moment my money is on Verna.”

  “But she’s a sweetie.”

  Grant opens the door to the cafeteria, down the hall from the set. He grins at me as though I’ve missed something. “Exactly, and not his type. Who’s your pick for Rhett?”

  I keep my voice even. “I might remind you why he’s doing the show. It’s not about first attraction but a longer commitment.”

  “Contest is about connection, and attraction has a major influence on the initial connection between two people. With so many people in the room he’ll lean toward the more beautiful women. In the final stages of the show it will come down to a deeper connection and respect. If Lucy survives the first two rounds I think she’ll be a contender in the end.” He pats my arm. “I know you’ll bring out the best in Mr Williams.”

  I nod and try not to think about how I’m doing that. “Well, my vote is with Sienna,” I say flippantly, and then order an extra shot of coffee in my latte.

  Grant and I banter some more while he eats a cupcake and I finish a bowl of fruit salad. Before we leave I order a second latte—to go. I need a buzz, especially before facing Rhett in a matter of minutes. We head back to the set where Rhett is positioned on a lounge ready to be interviewed by James.

  Grant strolls over and talks briefly with both men, before throwing a few directions to the technical guys behind the cameras. I catch Ingrid’s eye
, then she moves away from the wall and comes to stand beside me.

  “Hey, how is Brent?”

  “Brent is fine … You know he was surprised not to see you today,” she says. “Said he wanted to discuss something with you, and only you.” She pulls a face.

  There’s no mistaking who he is. “I’m not sure why Rhett couldn’t discuss it with you. Did he mention what it was about?”

  “Nope. Made me feel a right bitch.”

  I nod. “Don’t take it personally. He does it to me too. Guess I’m better at playing bitch than you.”

  Ingrid laughs quietly. “Anyway, he’s happy with the stylist you have working with him. Oh, and his answers were pretty sharp. Good job, Tori … for someone who acts like a bitch.” I flinch at the hint of sarcasm in her tone. “You don’t fool me,” she whispers, then turns to the set.

  “He thinks I’m stuck up,” I say loud enough for her to hear. I’m staring at Rhett, sitting on the red lounge chair, relaxed, and wearing a shirt the colour of slate. Nice. I take note of his suit pants and shoes, and then I’m searching for his beautiful face once more.

  Rhett’s rich blue eyes lock with mine, and I’m held by their intensity for a few seconds before Ingrid elbows me.

  “Not you’re a bitch stare. Just saying,” she quips.

  I smile at Rhett and give him the thumbs up, trying to downplay the rollercoaster of emotion ploughing through me. A dent appears between his brows. He nods at me before levelling his shoulders toward the camera.

  “You’ll get immune to those looks as well,” I say dismissively.

  “Right,” Ingrid says, stretching out the word. “Lucky I’m not working with him because I wouldn’t cope with Thor’s charm.”

  “He’s not Thor.”

  “Maybe you’re going to have to work on your bitch a bit more.”

  “I don’t think he realises the effect he has on girls,” I try to reason. “I’m already immune to it, and I’ll have him work it perfectly on our contestants.” I smile at her, like I’m secretly the villain.