“It’s on his goddamned wrist, Logan. Keep paging.”
We wait. Seconds drag by. The reality of what I’m facing has filtered through the room, and now the looks are all pitying. I’m not just out. I’ll leave with the clothes on my back and the bag in my hand, with only yesterday’s money to show for it all.
“I stayed, Tony. I stayed overnight.”
“You heard Trevor. There’s no fighting. No harming other contestants.”
My face breaks. I can feel Kylie watching me, smiling. But I can’t help it, or the hitch in my voice.
“Please.”
“There’s nothing I can do, Bridget.”
“It says here that she’s DQ’d,” Logan says from the panel. “What does that paper say?”
“DQ and forfeit of Day One and the bonus.”
“Twenty grand,” says Logan. It’s just a statement, but I can almost hear the whistle of disbelief, as if to say, Boy howdy did you fuck up, girl.
“Daniel’s in his office,” I say. “Let me talk to him.”
But I know he won’t answer. He slipped that envelope under my door after his boss told him to then ran off and hid like a coward. I know he doesn’t like me. He told me I’m a mistake that can’t be fixed … unless, of course, I fix everything for him. He’s glad for this. He doesn’t have the guts to face me and say it himself, but I’m sure that he’s glad.
“Tony, it says we’re … ” He trails off then regroups. “It says we’re supposed to escort her off the premises. There’s a driver out front.”
“Where does it say that?”
“In the note.” Logan touches the screen.
“From Trevor.”
And I think, Or Trevor’s office, like, from his right-hand man.
Tony sighs. His eyes ask me if I’ll go quietly or if I’ll need to be carried, but that he’ll oblige either way. “I’m sorry,” is all he says.
“I need the money. Please, Tony. I need it.”
My mother.
The doctor.
The syndicate, or whatever the hell my fuck of a father heads down in Miami.
“I don’t make the rules,” Tony says.
I don’t look up. Tony gestures back the way I came, and I lead the way.
I don’t have the strength to be angry.
I don’t have the strength to feel betrayed.
I don’t even have the strength to feel terrible for what’s about to happen, for what Jenny will say when I tell her the rest of the money won’t be coming.
I plod off. The silence behind me is a physical thing.
I hear Kylie as I go.
She says, “Not as smart as you think, I guess.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Bridget
I watch my shoes. My stupid, ordinary, everyday-girl Converses that I put back on with the tee from the drawer. I went to a billionaire’s sex ranch, and all I got was this stupid T-shirt. Not even those beautiful heels they left for me last night, or the earrings, or the dress.
I don’t precisely see the limo pull away from the mansion’s driveway. It’s more that I feel it. I’ll feel it for a while more, and then I’ll feel the driver’s hand as he leads me out and up the steps of a jet. I’ll feel it taking off then landing. I won’t notice where I am or the last of my luxury. I’ll only see Jenny’s face. My mother’s face. And my son-of-a-bitch father’s face, as he keeps doing exactly what he’s always done.
I wish I’d never found my birth family. I wish I’d never turned that stone.
I wish I’d never got that damned invitation. I don’t even have the original money left, and I doubt it helped my family. It wasn’t enough. The doctor needed twenty-five grand to pay off the people putting her under the gun. I gave her what I had, but it wasn’t enough. My money is gone. I can’t even take care of the rent, let alone build my dream studio, or help with anything else that’s made my recent life a silent hell. And the doctor, who I have to admit is doing the best she can in a no-win situation, will probably have her legs broken for her trouble.
I wish I’d never met Daniel Rice.
I feel like an idiot. I’m smarter than this. He got everything he wanted from me and then some, before discarding me like a soiled Kleenex. I was a pawn in some stupid game, and it wasn’t even the one everybody else at the mansion was playing. There was nothing fair here, not even a little. I didn’t get the money; I didn’t get an honest shot. To hear Kylie talk, she figured it all out before there was figuring to be had. She was ready, and I was chum. I never had a chance.
And to think, I liked him. Stupid, stupid Bridget, falling for the worst man possible. I should know better by now. I never pick good men, but Daniel was a new level of terrible. Even Trevor would be better, disgusting contest aside. Trevor comes off nice, and Daniel comes off like a colossal, domineering, alpha asshole. Ordering me around. And what happens? What do I do? Well, I fuck him, of course. Repeatedly.
I’m such a mess. Such a stupid, goddamned idiotic mess. And I know it; that’s the worst part. Brandon told me I have a self-sabotaging streak. A deep desire to see myself fail. To ruin what works, and sow what will eventually destroy me.
I liked him. Despite it all, I thought he was on my side. Daniel outside the limo that first day, making a sincere-sounding compliment. Daniel showing up at my door with a rose. Daniel taking me for a walk in the arboretum, before losing his shit.
Just like me to see only the good and ignore all the bad. I’m the warning poster for optimism. I so readily see the glass as half-full, I’ll ignore every alarm bell and insult.
Well, fuck Daniel. It’s clear he had a problem with me from the start, and now he’s finally rid of me. He broke me, just like he wanted to. He held up a mirror and showed me who I am, knowing I’d loathe my reflection.
The car stops, and I see the jet in my peripheral vision. The door opens. The driver extends a hand, and I take it. But then instead of helping me out of the car, he nudges me over and sits beside me.
“Hey.”
Daniel.
“I tried to catch you back at the house. I was in the west wing, and the intercom doesn’t work over there because they’re in the middle of repairs. But I got the page. You should have — ”
I hit him. As hard as I can. It’s twice what I gave Kylie, and I hadn’t been holding back then.
Daniel’s face stays turned. I only see his profile and the imprint of my open hand. He moves his jaw as if testing it, and then his fingers move up, touching the red spot.
“I guess I had that coming.”
I hit him again. And again, as my calm finally breaks and I feel my eyes start to tear up. On the fourth swing, Daniel grabs my wrist and says, “Enough.”
But I’m so pissed. I’m so fucking angry at the injustice of it all that I turn and come at Daniel with the other hand. I curl back when he grabs it, trying to kick him. It takes his entire body to pin me, and I’m sobbing when he does. This isn’t fair. I didn’t ask for any of it. It’s so much worse than zero-sum. It’s not the same as having nothing and ending up with nothing. I had it then lost it. I saw the light before it vanished. I don’t like what this experience showed me. Because I usually feel strong, but all Daniel and Trevor and their sick machine have shown me is that I’m as weak as anyone, and that my armor is only smoke and gossamer.
“Stop it, Bridget. Just stop it! Listen to me for one goddamned minute, will you?”
“Or what? Or you’ll fuck my throat? Or you’ll bend me over and make me love it? You’ll shut me up, won’t you, because apparently I’m so fucked up, I’ll do whatever the hell you want!”
I’m still thrashing. Still trying to hit him. He holds my arms, puts his body so close that I can’t use my legs. But I’m still so furious, I can barely breathe. If he comes too close, I swear I’ll bite him.
“Settle down!” Inside the limo, his shout is a bellow.
And then it falls apart. All of it. The last of my resolve. The last of my restraint. The last of what
I held together in front of Kylie, in front of a room full of enemies. My ability to not think of my mother, of my sister, of the enormity of it all. Usually, I can wall it off, can forget just how hopeless it is. Not now. Now I see the existential horror of it all. The deep, dark pit my life has become. There is no winning for me, not now. Not even if I could tell Brandon, which I can’t. Not even if I called the police, which won’t help and will only make things worse. Treading water is the best I can do. To make what I can and build a house of straw, trying to forget for as long as possible that I know the wolf is outside, and it’s only luck that’s kept me whole thus far. I can’t come out ahead. The best I can hope for, like an addict, is clinging to normal’s floor.
I sob into him. Into this man I hate. My enemy. The latest person to stab me in the back. After a while I feel a big hand on my back, bouncing with my heaving, messy, slobbering breaths. He says nothing. Just waits until it’s over.
Slowly, with nothing left, I come around. I need to blow my nose. I’m still wearing last night’s makeup; I’m sure I look like the Joker. Whatever dignity and self-respect I thought I had left, it’s gone, and I can’t bring myself to care.
Daniel looks into my eyes. My messy, wasted, surely bloodshot eyes. Taking me in, seeing the pathetic thing I’ve become. I hear Kylie’s assessment in my head: pity. But there’s nowhere left to run. Or hide.
I think he’ll hand me a handkerchief at best. Or tell me I’m disgusting at worst. I simply don’t care anymore.
But still, he says nothing. His hand comes up, and he brushes a loose sheaf of hair from my face.
“I tried to stop it,” he says.
I blink up at him.
“I talked to Trevor. But it’s not as simple as you think, Bridget. There are audio pickups everywhere, but the fire was popping too loudly for us to clearly hear what was said. Trevor said Kylie came to him last night with someone else.”
“Ivy.”
“Ivy. And they said you attacked her. They told us where and when it happened, and it was obvious on the footage when we looked. Trevor said he thought she might have provoked you. We tried to make out what you discussed, but it’s unclear.”
Despite how horrible I feel, I can’t shake the oddity of what he’s saying. He’s talking like he and Trevor powwowed, like officials reviewing a questionable play in a sporting event. The ruling, from both ends, sure sounds indecisive. And yet here I am, ousted.
“But Trevor — ”
“It’s complicated, Bridget. I wish I could tell you more, but I can’t. Not yet. We’ve taken enough risks already.”
“You and Trevor.”
His head shakes slowly. “Just me.”
“Because you made a mistake in bringing me here.”
Another slow shake. “Because I made the mistake of liking you best.”
Breath leaves me. I pull away, no longer minding his hand on my back. It’s not sexual. Nothing like before.
“It’s not my decision,” he says, and in the heartbeat that follows I get the feeling it’s not Trevor’s either. “The rules are clear. You hit her. And that disqualifies you from your pay for five days, including all bonuses.”
He said that very carefully. Like a lawyer.
… disqualifies you from your pay for five days, including all bonuses.
“From pay.”
“And bonuses.”
“But not … ” I trail off.
Daniel looks through the limousine windows, back at the house.
“In the original judgment, yes,” he says, answering my unasked question. “Consider this a plea bargain.”
Now I’m looking at the house. “Tony and Logan said I was disqualified.”
“I’ve already updated the judgment. If you want to go back, you may.”
I look at the house. Then at Daniel. I don’t know what to think.
“I needed that money, Daniel.” Tears are still brimming, only slightly in abeyance. “My mother — ”
His finger touches my lips.
“I told you. I know about Linda.”
“But last night — ”
“And you should know that all Skype calls are recorded. Our security here would be pretty shitty if you could just call whoever you want, whenever you wanted to.”
I think of the open office. The unlocked computer. And how nobody bothered me the entire time I was talking to Jenny.
“You let me call her. You left the office open, and me alone.”
“We have access to your email,” he tells me, nodding.
“So you know. She — ”
For the third time, Daniel interrupts. Normally, that kind of thing pisses me off, but right now I’m not bothered a bit.
“It’s handled, Bridget.”
“What’s handled?”
“Linda.”
“You mean … ”
“Your wire was short. I took care of it.”
“But you said … the note said … you just told me I’d lose all the money I’m owed for — ”
“I said I took care of it.”
Meaning him. Meaning Daniel. Meaning he made the wire himself, out of his own pocket, when the rules froze the funds I’d planned to send myself.
“You … ” But this time, he doesn’t have to interrupt. I just don’t know how to continue.
“You’re welcome,” he says.
The car’s interior seems so quiet in the space that follows. I don’t know where the driver is, but he isn’t up front. It’s only us. Me and the man who hates me. The man I hate, whose eyes seem somehow different, understanding percolating in us both.
I look at the house.
“I can go back?”
“If you want to.”
I lean forward and kiss Daniel for real. It’s soft. It’s new. And for the first time, I feel something I’m afraid to call hope.
“I want to go back,” I say. “For her. For them.”
I look into Daniel’s deep, brown eyes. If I go back, I won’t be paid for days, until I start earning back what I need. I’ll be tested. I’ll feel compromised, my morality and limits strained to their breaking point. I’ll have to deal with Kylie and Ivy, but that’s okay. I don’t like to run from a fight.
“If you go back,” he says, then touches my lips to indicate the kiss, “this all has to end.”
“Forever?”
“Until it’s over.”
I nod. We’ll see about that. I’ve never been much of a rule-follower. I’ve never been one to shy from risk.
Daniel opens the door and gets out. I see the driver standing beside the car, waiting for us to finish.
“Take her back to the house,” he says. Then, leaning in, to me: “I hope you win.”
But that’s not my plan. I don’t want to win Trevor’s hand.
“I think this might be a case where second place isn’t second best,” I say.
Daniel’s brow furrows. Standing in his rumpled shirt from a morning of apparent frenzy, he looks more cute than handsome.
“What does that mean?”
But I laugh as I close the door, not answering.
I tap the divider, and the driver pulls away, taking me back into the lion’s den.
FIND OUT WHAT HAPPENS NEXT!
Get the sequel here: http://aubreyparker.net/rivalry
Things at the mansion are only heating up!
In this book’s sequel, Burning Rivalry, you’ll learn how Bridget and Daniel fight to keep their secret as the contest’s challenges and eliminations begin and the other contestants’ claws come out. And as Daniel’s mystery grows, Bridget begins to suspect there’s more to his knowledge of her past — and to the contest’s true purpose — than anyone is admitting …
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Burning Offer (Trevor's Harem #1) Page 15
