“I know you’re with her. I know you’re still with her.”
I could deny it, but as much as I’d like to treat Trevor like a brainless pretty boy, he’s anything but.
“And?” I say.
“She was supposed to be eliminated next.”
“I’ll tell you what I told the board: You have a problem with the selections, talk to Halo. Believe me, I’d consider it a favor. Logic is no substitute for intuition.”
“If you were in charge of making the selections, as you want,” Trevor says, “you’d eliminate Bridget.”
“I’d eliminate the least-fitting candidate each round.”
“And you’d be objective.”
“Of course. Why do you think I work with an open notebook? You have a problem with what I’m doing, Trevor, you’re welcome to open my files and show me how I’m cheating.”
We stare at each other for a few seconds. I know he won’t take me up on it. I’d be an idiot to cheat in such an obvious way.
“By your estimation, beyond what Halo determines, who should have gone this last round?”
“It doesn’t work that way, Trevor.”
“It was Bridget.”
I shrug. “If you say so.” It’s a shit threat, if that’s how he means it. I won’t say what he wants me to. Everyone knows which names the perfect algorithm is spitting out.
“And this time,” he says, “it’s Bridget, again.”
“Maybe,” I say.
“Cut the shit, Daniel. Do you know what’s at stake here?”
“Of course. That’s why we have such a firm system in place.”
“Which you’re manipulating to keep your girlfriend here.”
“How? How am I manipulating it, Trevor?”
He stops. His tongue creeps into his cheek. I’ve backed him into a corner. Halo isn’t really Trevor’s project, but he’s definitely part of the machine that sponsored it. He will benefit when this is over. Finding what we’re looking for will change the game. With the right lever, we can pry business from the largest sector online and turn it toward something entirely different. We can invent something new, once we have that secret ingredient in hand. But I have a significant advantage over Trevor and the board — especially Alexa, who borders on superstitious. I don’t believe that what they’re looking for even exists, whereas they’re banking on it. Given how much Eros has heaped atop Halo’s shoulders, the future I’d rather not see is assured, but even with the burden of proof on me, my case is so much easier to make. It’s simpler to establish doubt than to prove, without a doubt, that something is real.
Trevor can’t even propose a way in which I’m manipulating Halo. Doing so admits that it’s fallible. And of course it’s not. Our futures all depend on it, one way or another.
“You should disqualify her,” Trevor says.
“Why?” I’m thinking of how Bridget needs the money, to hire the fixer. I’m imagining her more mundane future, buying into her dream recording studio even after things go bust at the ranch. But even more I’m thinking about keeping her here. About using her in a completely different way than I’d intended to at the start. I won’t DQ her. But this is a game of chicken, and Trevor won’t DQ her either. To do so would highlight Halo’s flaws.
“The dataset is incomplete. She doesn’t even have a key asset.”
“Come now, Trevor. You know as well as I do that Halo would never advance someone without a superpower.”
I’m enjoying this. Trevor stares at me, facing another thing he’s unable to say.
“What is it?”
“I have my theories. But maybe if you could persuade the board to give me Halo programmer’s access, I could be sure that — ”
“No,” he says, seeing the trap.
“So are we done here?” I say, letting a cruel smile touch my lips. “Because I have a contest to run.”
When Trevor doesn’t answer, I walk past him, toward the courtyard door.
Trevor stops me with a word: “Caspian.”
I stop walking. Still facing away.
“You’re hurting yourself, you understand,” he goes on.
I turn to see Trevor looking right at me.
“And you’re hurting her, Daniel.”
I come back toward him, feeling like murder.
“How’s that, Trevor?” I say, keeping my voice light.
“I don’t know how you’re doing what you’re doing. You can fool me, you can play dumb, whatever you want. But you know goddamn well that what fools me and the board won’t fool Caspian White.”
My teeth want to grind. I stop them.
“Five more days, Daniel. You can keep doing whatever it is you’re doing for another five days, but then he’s going to show up. And until he leaves with what he wants — which we might not even know he’s taken for months, until we’re left staring at our hands and wondering what in the world went wrong — he’ll have his nose under the hood. Of the board, of you, of me, of this home’s systems. You know how he is. You know what he’s like. And even if the board denies it, between you and me — and this is me talking to you man to man, Daniel, not as an enemy — I think we both suspect that a lot of what underpins the Halo algorithm came from GameStorming. Nobody’s going to admit it. Just like no one will admit that LiveLyfe has been scraped, data mined, and that GameStorming stopped being a research engine a long time ago.”
My lips flex to protest, but what Trevor is saying is true. Our relationship is complex. I love him like a brother, while hating him as a rival and usurper. But in the end we’re on the same side, and even if we’re not, it’s true that the enemy of my enemy is my friend. To the public, Caspian White is a footnote as far as Eros is concerned. But the only person who knows all the stakes of what should be a peripheral deal is Caspian himself. It’s hard to shake the feeling that no matter what the paperwork says, this company has become a big puppet, and someone else has his hand inside it.
“I don’t see what that has to do with Bridget,” I say.
“He’ll see through her. If he has half the insight I think he does, he’ll know she’s a loose end. And then he’ll start asking questions. Of the board. Of me. Of you. And of her, Daniel.”
“Bullshit,” I mutter. But it’s not. Not at all.
“Even worse,” Trevor says, “is that he’ll believe just enough. He’ll know she shouldn’t be here, but he won’t dismiss her. He’ll know there’s something keeping her here. Something Halo sees, or that someone … clever enough to fudge things … sees. It’ll make him curious, Daniel. It’ll put her on his radar.”
I try to laugh, but it’s getting harder to protest. The sound leaves me strangled and half-dead.
“His radar is fully occupied these days, I hear.”
“I’ve heard that, too,” Trevor says, his face now more concerned than angry. “Occupied by a tall, thin, nondescript but strangely beautiful girl with dark blonde hair. A girl who’s young, hard to crack, innocent in all the right ways. A girl with a horrible past, and scars like his own. A girl who by all appearances is totally ordinary … but strangely compelling for a reason even he can’t explain.”
I let the thought settle. I’ve heard the rumors, of course. Caspian White is incapable of love but not incapable of obsession that looks very much the same. And people have been saying lately, Caspian White is in love. What passes for love in the heart of a living demon.
Trevor looks weak when he says the next thing: “Remind you of anyone?”
Again, I try to explain it all away. But with Caspian, normal rules don’t apply. Love forms attachment to one specific person, but automatons only understand targets and matching criteria. I see the danger of transference if Bridget fascinates him, whether I want to or not.
I glance toward the courtyard. Toward the test that will create new data about our five remaining test subjects, that will be fed into Halo, that will determine the next elimination. Toward my last chance to get Bridget removed for her own safety … or keep
her around for my own selfish reasons.
I don’t even know if what Trevor wants can be done.
I’m about to start walking, but at the last second I turn back and meet Trevor’s eye. This isn’t about the board, or about Halo. I can read people plenty well enough to see that, now that it’s so obvious.
“Why does it matter to you, Trevor?” I ask.
And he says, “Because I care for her, too.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Bridget
“Let’s go for a walk,” Trevor tells me.
I look up at him with a smile — partly because I’m liking our billionaire host more and more the longer I’m here, partly because if I can last through one more elimination, my winnings will top one million dollars and that will be enough to allow my phone call to an unsavory fellow who solves problems, and partly because Kylie is near me when Trevor approaches. The smile is for Trevor, yes. But mostly it’s for Kylie, who’s about to be left with my two friends and Roxy, alone near the rose bushes. In theory, it’s two against two if they choose to fight, but we all know Roxy. She’ll probably get naked and try to assault all three with her vagina.
But I look toward Trevor, and my smile vanishes. I see something troubling on his face. Then I define the expression and it troubles me more. I’m not bothered because Trevor looks uneasy, though he does. I’m troubled because he looks dead earnest. Until this moment, I never realized it, but we’ve only ever seen a filtered, sanitized version of Trevor Stone. He’s been keeping a public face, and right now I’m seeing his true expression. This is what he looks like when alone. This is who this man really is … and right now, something is wrong.
So I go with him, throwing looks at the other girls that I wish were victorious but probably come off more like I’ve been shanghaied. They’re supposed to feel jealous — well, except for Jessica, who knows I know she wants Trevor more, and Kat, who trusts me for less specific reasons. But I doubt I’m inspiring jealousy in Roxy and Kylie as we wait for what I can only assume is another test in disguise.
“This is a beautiful garden,” I say to Trevor, forcing composure after a minute of silence.
“You should see the staff it takes to maintain.”
“I don’t see any gardeners.”
“They’ve been told to stay off this side of the lawn today. Because things will probably happen.”
I watch Trevor lead me, him only slightly ahead and me only slightly behind. A casual observer might think we were strolling hand in hand. I try looking back toward the other girls, and whoever’s come to join them.
I don’t know what’s on tap, but I do know some things: Daniel will be there, as will Richard, Logan, Tony, or some combination thereof; Trevor’s mention of “things will probably happen” reminds me that this is at least in part a sexual competition, and I get the feel that sexual prodigiousness is one thing “Trevor’s bride” is supposed to have in spades; the rules have changed; and fourth, I won’t be part of it. On the plus side, I’m off with Trevor. But on the downside, I won’t be there to witness whatever will happen. To keep Kylie and Roxy from influencing the next best guy once Trevor is out of the picture.
But that’s ridiculous thinking, isn’t it?
He’s mostly quiet, sometimes making small talk that means nothing, his face still uneasy. Then we arrive at a spot I recognize, near the fountains.
“I’m going to lead you off, one by one,” Trevor says, stopping in what I assume must be the blind spot. “There are no rules, one way or the other. I could lie and insult you, Bridget, but I won’t. Everyone will assume that the correct response is to act out physically.”
“Act out … ?”
“Eros is a sex company. They’ll connect the dots. They’ll figure that now that we’re on the cusp of eliminating this group to the final four, that the time has come to prove themselves — especially considering how I’ve been keeping myself out of the festivities. They’ll assume that when we’re alone, I’m going to want to have sex with them.”
“Oh.”
I don’t know why, but I’m bothered by the thought. Maybe it’s because Trevor doesn’t seem excited by the idea. Maybe it’s because my sense of him being as trapped in this as anyone else has grown stronger. I saw some early dalliances, but most of the recent action has been with hired studs. Trevor, despite this being his harem in the making, has kept his pants on. Only now do I realize how strange this seems. Is it natural or just another role in this giant play we’ve all been playing our parts in? Has he grown disinterested, or does Trevor’s recent abstinence — as far as I can tell and assuming some girls are lying to bother the rest of us — have a double meaning?
“I don’t want to, Bridget. I’m telling you this because I trust you, and I want you to trust me.”
“It’s your party.”
He takes both of my forearms, and it’s like he’s frustrated with me. I’m not listening. I’m verbally rolling my eyes, and we don’t have forever.
“These blind spots probably seem arbitrary,” Trevor says, looking around at the lawn beneath us. “But they’re all part of the big equation, designed to get contestants to reveal information they think they aren’t actually revealing. I promise you, the spots are truly blind, but entering them speaks volumes. Maybe you seek a blind spot because you have something to hide, or maybe because you have nothing to hide and want someone to think you do. Maybe you’re hiding something after all, but you go into the blind spot thinking that whoever’s watching will assume you went in because you have something to hide, and you know it, and they know you know, and you know they know, and so you play it off like there’s nothing to hide at all and use that as cover to do something you shouldn’t.”
“That hurts my head,” I say.
For some reason, that softens his expression. He runs a hand through my hair, like he feels sorry for me, like I’m precious to him but beyond helping.
“I know,” he says. “But I also know Daniel has told you more than he should, and like what I said about the blind spots, it’s all double-negatives. Meaning that we … I mean I … know that he let you into this without proper validation, and he thought he’d covered his tracks but never has. So I’ve looked the other way, but he knows I know, and I know he knows I know.” A broad, almost sad smile cuts across Trevor’s face. “See, now my head hurts.”
I give him a weak smile in return, but I’m trying to process all he’s telling me. He knows … so how much does he know?
“We have ways,” Trevor says, “of sorting all those loose ends for the other four girls. If Jessica goes into a blind spot, we can more or less figure out why because we know a lot about Jessica. But the same isn’t true for you.” He looks around, as if in search of watching eyes. “Nobody will be entirely sure what happened here, in this spot, today. And … ” He looks acutely uncomfortable, like someone about to deliver news he’d rather not. “So it’s important that people assume we came here to have sex.”
For some reason, I spit laughter.
“Look, I’m sorry,” he says. “But I think they’ll believe that. And if we don’t give them sex as something to believe … well, the alternate explanation is bad for us both.”
I laugh again. Trevor sits on a stone bench, giving me time to digest. It’s a bit farther on, so I guess the blind spot is bigger than I thought. I look over at him and feel suddenly embarrassed. The idea of having sex with Trevor isn’t remotely unappealing; he’s handsome and confident and friendly and, based on flashes I’ve had in the past, he definitely has a great body. But I’m with Daniel. And Trevor is talking about appearances, not doing anything for real.
“Will you do the same with the other girls?”
“Maybe, though I might not bring them here. I’m playing this by ear.”
“I meant, will you pretend to have sex with them?” Or actually do it, my mind adds … though again, I’m not sure why.
“They will want to.” He sighs. “It’s a fine line, Bridget. But I’
d rather not. There should be … alternatives.”
“It’s pretty easy not to have sex with someone. You just keep your dick out of them.”
He smiles. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Fine,” I say. “Pretend we did it, whatever. So what’s the alternate explanation? Why did you really bring me here?”
“I need you to get yourself eliminated,” he says.
“Why?”
“I can’t tell you. I just need you to trust me.”
“If you want me eliminated, eliminate me yourself.”
“It’s not in my hands.”
“Whose hands, then?” But I can guess, based on things Daniel has said. A mysterious we that everyone keeps pretending doesn’t exist. I don’t know all the layers here, but there are dozens at least.
Trevor doesn’t answer. He pats the seat beside him, and I sit. It’s a small bench, so we’re practically pressed against each other. I notice his pleasant scent.
“Something you need to understand,” he says.
“What?”
“Daniel has his part to play in this, too. I know you know it’s not really a reality-TV-style dating contest. Of course you do. And by now, it’s hard to imagine any of the other girls believe it, either, but it doesn’t matter because if they knew the truth, they’d still be all in. And honestly, it’s still sort of what it seems, in a way. The winner will get a place by my side. No, we’re not here to find me a wife, but the winner will essentially be the billionaire’s wife, anyway.”
“What does that have to do with Daniel?”
“You can’t trust him, Bridget. I know you think you can, but the stuff we’re doing … ” Trevor sighs. “He’s designed most of it. He’s the expert, and people like me just have instructions and lines. He’s not trying to deceive you, really. But there are certain … necessities. Things that would be noticed if he played favorites as much as he probably wants to. It’s like I said, it’s all a game of who knows what. There are a bunch of people you don’t even know involved in all of this, and every one of us is walking around with a hidden motive. A knife hidden behind our backs.”
Burning Choice (Trevor's Harem #3) Page 9
