Mistress of the Game

by Sidney Sheldon

  “Sure he thinks of you like that. Every man on earth thinks of you like that.”

  Max took Lexi’s face in his hands and drew her toward him. Suddenly his lips were pressing hard against her own and his tongue was in her mouth, eager, hungry. Then, just as suddenly, he pulled away. He looked angry.

  “I don’t want you having lunch with him again.”

  Lexi bridled. “Now wait just a minute. I don’t know where you think you get off telling me who I may or may not have lunch with. But if-”

  Another kiss. This time Max’s icy hands slipped under Lexi’s shirt, grabbing hungrily at her breasts. All Lexi’s feminist instincts told her to push him away. But her groin seemed to have missed the Germaine Greer lecture. Instead of showing him curtly to the door, Lexi found herself pulling Max’s sweater over his head and fumbling for the belt buckle on his jeans.

  Oh God. What was it August said about clouded judgment?

  “I thought you weren’t attracted to me,” she murmured.

  “You thought wrong.”

  Yanking off Lexi’s pajama bottoms, Max carried her into the bedroom. Clothes from her Africa trip littered the bed, but Max didn’t bother to move them. Throwing her down on top of the mess, he spread her legs, bent his head low, and began to lick her, his tongue darting like an eel into the slippery wetness between her thighs. Lexi moaned. She felt her muscles tense and her back start to arch. Wriggling helplessly, she tried to move his head away. I mustn’t come too quickly. I mustn’t let him know how long I’ve wanted him. But it was no use. Lexi seemed to have no control over her body whatsoever. She bucked wildly as waves of pleasure coursed through her.

  The instant her orgasm was over, Max pulled off his pants and crawled up the bed so that his face was over hers. Lexi looked into his eyes. She expected to see excitement, arousal, joy. Instead she found herself gazing into two bottomless black pools of…nothing. She felt a momentary stab of fear.

  You aren’t Max. You’re a stranger. Who are you?

  It was a fear tinged with excitement. Even in the days when she’d convinced herself she hated him, Lexi recognized something wild and animalistic in Max. Something dangerous. It was the part of him she had always secretly wanted to possess, to unleash. Now she was about to unleash it. She could barely breathe.

  Max felt her trying to read him, trying to gauge who he really was. He flipped her onto her stomach so she couldn’t see his face. Then he entered her from behind, his huge penis filling her completely, satisfying her at last.

  Lexi gasped with pleasure,

  This is it. This is what sex is supposed to feel like.

  Soon she was aware of nothing but the incredible sensations ripping through her body.

  Max, too, was lost in the moment. He tried to hold himself back, but it was impossible. Lexi’s breasts felt like his mother’s breasts. Her hair, her skin, reeked of Eve. He was doing this for his mother. It was all for Eve. And yet Max felt unfaithful, dirty, pounding away like an animal on his cousin’s bare back.

  It shouldn’t feel so good. Not with Lexi. Max hated Lexi.

  I hate you.

  Max came, screaming his mother’s name.

  Unable to see his face, Lexi couldn’t hear him.

  Lexi’s affair with Max was like a child’s secret treasure: too precious to be shown to others. When Lexi was a little girl, she’d had a beautiful antique box that she used to fill with special “nature things”-a bird’s egg that had fallen from a nest and landed, unbroken, on the lawn at Dark Harbor; a rabbit’s skull with bones worn so white that they glowed in the dark. If she could, she would have hidden Max’s love in that box. Taken it out at night when she was alone, like the rabbit’s skull, and gazed at it in wonder. The fact that no one at work knew they were together only added to the thrill of the relationship.

  Max said: “We’re cousins. And colleagues. People wouldn’t understand.”

  Lexi agreed. One day soon, she would be Max’s boss. Everyone’s boss. Discretion at Kruger-Brent was vital.

  “People” would have understood even less had they been flies on the wall observing Max and Lexi’s love life. Since losing her virginity at sixteen, Lexi had been on a sexual mission, determined not to let her childhood abuse blunt her adult libido. She’d been so busy proving her sexuality, so busy showing lover after lover how much she enjoyed sex and how in control she was, she’d never stopped to figure out what it was that she actually wanted.

  Max was the answer to all the questions Lexi had never asked. Not only did his sex drive match her own, but he made love with a violent desperation that left her breathless and begging for more. She never imagined she could enjoy being dominated in bed. In life, in the boardroom, she was Mistress of the Game. But Max opened the door to another side of her psyche. The games were gentle at first: he held her hands down on the bed or lightly tapped her butt during sex. But as Lexi’s responses intensified, Max pushed further and further into full-blown S &M-sodomy, bondage, humiliation-nothing was off-limits. Lexi felt liberated. At home, in bed with Max, she could throw off the armor that she wore all day at Kruger-Brent, the same armor she’d worn at business school and with the media, the same armor she’d been wearing all her life. The armor that said: Yes, I’m deaf and I’m a woman. But don’t think you can fuck with me. With Max, she could finally be herself. Real, vulnerable, unguarded.

  It was the best feeling in the world.

  The only downside to the relationship was that they didn’t spend enough time together. Lexi, especially, still had an insane travel schedule. And Max was up to his neck in Kruger-Brent politics at home.

  Max told her, “It’ll be better when you’re chairman. You’ll be in New York more. We’ll have control over our own schedules.”

  Lexi could hardly wait.

  Eve asked Max: “Have you found anything yet? There must be something you can use against her.”

  “Not yet, Mother. I’m working on it.”

  “Well, work faster. You’re wasting too much time screwing her, aren’t you?”

  “No.”

  “Yes, you are. You’re too busy enjoying yourself to remember who Lexi is. She’s your enemy, Max. She’s trying to steal from us. Time is running out.”

  “I know.” Max hated disappointing his mother. He was also afraid Eve might be right. Sometimes, when Lexi screamed and writhed and moaned beneath him, he could almost believe that he did love her. That he’d forgotten why he had seduced her in the first place. Forgotten that this was all a game. A game in which the winner got to keep the greatest prize of all: Kruger-Brent.

  Eve reminded him in no uncertain terms.

  “You know what to do, Max. Fuck her. Fool her. Finish her.”

  Max nodded grimly.

  He knew what to do.

  Lexi lay back and tried to slow her breathing.

  Dr. Cheung said: “Don’t be nervous. Think of it as a flu shot.”

  Right. A flu shot that might give me back my hearing.

  Lexi never imagined that hope could be so painful. Ever since Max told her about Dr. Cheung and the pioneering work he was doing with gene therapy, she’d been unable to sleep. It was like meeting a psychic who claimed to be able to contact your lost loved ones from beyond the grave. You want to believe it. But to do so means ripping open old wounds. Lexi had long since accepted the fact that she would never hear again.

  Then Max casually passed her the New Scientist over breakfast one morning and blew her world apart.

  “Look at this. Some guy in China’s found a gene that makes deaf guinea pigs get their hearing back.”

  Lexi read the piece. The gene was called Math1. Dr. Cheung had developed a genetically engineered adenovirus containing the gene and injected it into the cochlea of deaf guinea pigs. Incredibly, the hair cells of the animal’s inner ear had begun to regrow. Eighty percent of the sample recovered full hearing in a matter of weeks.

  She passed the magazine back to Max. “He’s never tried it on humans. Scient
ists are always coming up with these so-called breakthroughs. It won’t work.”

  “Says here he started human trials last month. Aren’t you even curious to meet him?”

  “No.”

  “He comes to New York regularly.”

  “I said no, Max, okay? I don’t have time to meet with some Chinese whack job.”

  Lexi pressed a Band-Aid onto her arm. “How long does it take? To feel the effects?”

  “It depends. I’ve had patients start hair regrowth almost immediately. For others, it can be weeks, or even months. You may need a second shot. Can you check back with me in two weeks?”

  Dr. Cheung was almost as nervous as Lexi. If the therapy was successful with such a high-profile patient, he would be set for life. If it failed, he could wave good-bye to his funding, not to mention his medical reputation.

  “It’s important to rest as much as you can, especially during the first week. This is an immense change for your body.”

  “I’m afraid that’s impossible.” Lexi gathered up her purse. “I’m due to assume the chairmanship in a month. There’s so much to do at Kruger-Brent.”

  Dr. Cheung tried not to sound panicked. “Ms. Templeton. You must rest. This is your hearing we’re talking about. Even if you were to look at it purely from a business perspective, I think you’ll agree it’s an investment worth making.”

  Max said the same thing.

  “Go to Dark Harbor. See your dad. It might be the last chance you get to take a vacation. Once you’re chairman, you’ll never get away.”

  Reluctantly, Lexi agreed. But on one condition. “Promise me you won’t tell anyone about the treatment? I don’t want to raise expectations. Not until the outcome is certain.”

  Max took her in his arms and kissed her.

  “I promise. Now, for heaven’s sake, get out of here. Go get some rest while you still can.”

  “So did you hear? Santa Claus just landed his sleigh at Grindle Point Lighthouse.”

  Robbie Templeton sat in a coffee shop in Dark Harbor, across the table from his sister.

  “Grindle Point? Wow.”

  Lexi read Robbie’s lips, but her thoughts were miles away. Dr. Cheung had said it could take weeks for her hearing to begin to return. He also said that twenty percent of the study had no reaction to Math1.

  Robbie continued. “The fat man’s planning to take over the galaxy using the lighthouse as his base.”

  “Right.”

  “Rudolph’s in charge of the first attack wave. After that, the whole show’s wide open. It could be Donner. Blitzen. Any one of those guys.”

  “I see. Brilliant.”

  Robbie reached across the table and pinched Lexi’s arm, hard.

  “Ow! What’d you do that for?”

  “I’ve been trying to get your attention for the last fifteen minutes. You haven’t taken in a single word I’ve said. I might as well go back to Paris and be done with it.”

  “Sorry.”

  This trip to visit their father was the first time brother and sister had spent real time together in over five years. Robbie was a huge star now, filling concert halls and stadiums all around the world. Finding a window in his schedule was like winning the lottery. But as much as Lexi delighted in his company, it was hard to keep her mind off her hearing. Or rather the lack of it. She was also itching to get back to Kruger-Brent.

  How am I supposed to rest when my mind is racing?

  “You think Dad would be super upset if I flew back to New York early?”

  Robbie frowned. “I don’t know. I would be. What’s the rush?”

  He was worried about Lexi. She’d lost a ton of weight since he’d last seen her, presumably from stress. Nothing could dim her luminous beauty, but to his brotherly eyes, she looked gaunt and more tired than he’d ever seen her.

  Lexi looked at him and wondered when it was, exactly, that they’d grown so far apart. She still loved Robbie dearly. But whereas once he’d understood her, almost like a second self, now he asked her questions that made no sense to her at all.

  What’s the rush?

  How could she answer that? What did it even mean? Business is the rush. It’s the life in my veins. I may never hear again. But I’ll always have Kruger-Brent.

  Max would have understood.

  Tristram Harwood looked at the screen in front of him. With each new image, his rheumy seventy-year-old eyes widened. The speakerphone was still on.

  “You see the scale of the problem, Tris?”

  Kruger-Brent’s CEO said grimly: “I do. Is there any way…can this be contained?”

  The voice on the speakerphone laughed.

  “Contained? It’s all over the Internet! In a few hours, those pictures’ll be on Fox News and our stock’ll fall through the floor. You need to make a statement.”

  Tristram Harwood hung up.

  He’d spent three years “minding the store” at Kruger-Brent. Three peaceful, scandal-free years. And now, in his very last week…

  “Stupid girl,” he muttered under his breath. “Stupid, stupid girl.”

  Cedar Hill House had been Kate Blackwell’s dream home, an oasis of tranquillity in her turbulent life. The views were spectacular, the decor comfortable, welcoming and peaceful. The house had once held too many painful memories for Peter Templeton. But as he grew older, and his children became adults, he found himself increasingly drawn to the place. Kate had come here to escape the world. When he retired, he decided, he would do the same.

  He made a few crucial changes. There was no longer a television in the house, or a phone. If one was going to escape the world, one might as well do it properly. A single, ancient desktop computer squatted on Peter’s desk, but it remained unplugged.

  Robbie enjoyed the feeling of being cut off. It helped him relax. Lexi loathed it.

  Thanks to Peter’s communications phobia, Lexi didn’t receive August Sandford’s e-mail till almost eight o’clock at night. She was strolling down by the water with Robbie when her BlackBerry suddenly and unexpectedly buzzed into life. It kept on buzzing.

  Seventy-seven new messages.

  The one from August had so many red exclamation points attached to it she opened it first.

  Robbie saw the blood drain from her face.

  “What? What is it?”

  “I have to get back to the city. Right now. I need a plane.” Lexi was texting as she spoke, her thumbs working at lightning speed.

  “It’s eight o’clock at night, sweetie. It’s too late to-”

  “GET ME A PLANE!”

  “All right. All right,” said Robbie. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Kennedy airport was swarming with reporters.

  Vultures, come to eat me alive.

  “Lexi, have you seen the pictures?”

  “When were they taken?”

  “Will you step down from Kruger-Brent?”

  “Do you have any idea who posted the images on the Net?”

  Yes, I have an idea. I know who. I know why. I know when.

  But none of that is going to help me.

  The Kruger-Brent boardroom was built in the round. Perched like a squat, circular turret on top of the Park Avenue building, it afforded phenomenal views of Manhattan, Central Park and the East River. In its center was a round mahogany table, large enough to seat thirty people. Today, twenty chairs had been positioned around it: fifteen for the board, including Tristram Harwood. Three for Kruger-Brent’s most senior attorneys. And one each for Lexi and Max.

  Nineteen of the chairs were filled. It was five o’clock in the morning.

  “Where is she? After everything she’s put this company through, the least she can do is show up on time.”

  Logan Marshall, the oldest serving board member, made no attempt to mask his irritation. Glancing around the table, it was clear that his colleagues echoed his sour mood. When the markets opened later this morning, they could each expect to see as much as a third of their net worth go up in smoke. There was
only one person to blame.

  “I’m here, I’m here. We can start.”

  In a pale peach pencil skirt and cream Marc Jacobs jacket, teamed with heels so high they looked more like launching gear than footwear, Lexi had dressed to kill. August Sandford thought: She’s not giving up without a fight. But she can’t win. Not this time. He flashed her an encouraging smile, but Lexi was too psyched up to return it. She launched into her pre-prepared speech:

  “First of all, I would like to apologize to all of you for putting you-putting us-in this position.”

  Silence.

  “Obviously our key concern this morning is our stock price. My view is that before we make any other decisions, we need to act now to limit the damage and reassure our shareholders.”

  Silence.

  Lexi plowed on.

  “My first thought on seeing these pictures was to resign immediately.” August heard the mutterings of “hear, hear.” Mercifully, Lexi didn’t. “But we all know that sudden and unexpected management change is the last thing likely to restore investor confidence. Our stock has risen steadily for the last six months on the expectation that I would take over as chairman next month. I don’t believe that me throwing myself on my sword is going to help us.”

  Logan Marshall whispered to August: “Pity she didn’t think of that before she threw herself on all those college boys’ swords at Harvard. And on film, too. What was she thinking?”

  “I disagree.”

  Max got to his feet. He looked confident, poised and rested. Lexi thought: How the hell does he manage to look so beautiful at five o’clock in the morning?

  “Let’s look at what we’re dealing with, shall we?” Max pulled a remote control from his pocket. A second later, a screen descended from the ceiling. On it was an image of Lexi, naked and on her knees, giving oral sex to a faceless man while two other men looked on.

  August Sandford objected: “Is this really necessary? We’ve all seen the pictures.”

  “Yes, and we’ve had a whole weekend to digest them,” said Max. “Think about our shareholders, waking up this morning and looking at that for the first time.”