“Who showed you?”
“It’s not important.”
“Who, Logan? Was it Daniel?" I hear the hysteria entering my voice. Then cold logic eclipses it as I realize the truth.
The hairbrush with gum in it.
The hands that rifled through my backpack when I was out of my room.
“Kylie,” I say. “It was Kylie.”
“I’m not looking to bust you, Bridget. I like you, really. And I don’t judge you, either. It’s clear you’re not like the others, and honestly it’s obvious that you could never level up, certainly could never win. It doesn’t matter that Daniel is supposed to be objective about you, given that. So what’s between him and you, normally, would be your business and nobody else’s. But this isn’t business as usual. There are things you don’t know.”
Logan looks hard at me as if checking to see if I’m still here or if I’ve drifted off into la-la land. In groups, Logan is always the wiseass. When on duty, I’ve heard he can be sweet and slow or a frightening beast. Mischief is always under his skin. That’s why seeing his seriousness now is unnerving. This, for whatever reason, is a big deal.
“I … it just happened,” I stammer.
Because I slipped in the limo and ended up with his dick in my mouth. Because there was a horrible rock climbing accident that ended with matching orgasms.
I want to own it, no matter how embarrassed I am. To do otherwise is tantamount to apology, and I’ve always done my best to live without regrets.
“It doesn’t matter,” Logan tells me, looking around for cameras or people passing through the kitchen. “It’s done. But look. I’ve taken care of what exists. I have all the originals and for reasons that are irrelevant, I know there aren’t any copies. I erased them. But the fact that they all vanished will, in itself, raise eyebrows behind the scenes.”
“With who?”
“That doesn’t matter either.”
My teeth grate. My head swims.
“You have to break it off, Bridget. Now. Immediately.”
“O-okay.”
“I mean it. No more videos. No — ”
“Jesus. Obviously.”
“And no more … contact. Nothing that raises suspicion. Do you understand me?”
I pause. Then: “Sure.”
Logan watches me for a solid fifteen seconds, searching my eyes with his. Then he puts a hand on each shoulder, and I feel the weight of this moment explode.
“Okay,” he says. “I need to tell you something. To make you understand.”
“You don’t need to tell me anything.”
“I do. Because I’ve seen your profile. What there is of it, anyway. You’re like me, in a way. And I know what I’d do if our positions were reversed. I’d listen and nod, and then I’d decide to do whatever the hell I want.”
“It’s fine. I know it’s a big deal.” But my heart must disagree, because I feel it drop. Intellectually, I get it. But my body craves Daniel. It can’t breathe without him.
Logan rushes on, ignoring my protests.
“I’ve known Daniel for a long time. He’s a hardass, but deep down he’s one of the most solid motherfuckers you could know. He’s always had my back, always. And when shit went down, I always wanted Daniel on my side.”
If Logan’s purpose is to make me want Daniel less, it isn’t working.
“The Eros board doesn’t like him. They want him removed. Cut out entirely. And they could do it, too, in an instant. He’s in by a thread, mainly because there’s old loyalty on the board. But it only stretches so far, and Daniel hasn’t made it easy to support him.” He looks around. “Do you know GameStorming?”
“Of course,” I say. It’s only the hottest thing in social networking since LiveLyfe, increasingly connected to everything.
“I can’t say too much, but there’s tension there, between them and Eros. And as it turns out, Daniel fucked up. He let someone into this competition that he shouldn’t have.”
“Me.”
“Someone else. An agent.”
“An agent?”
“Someone sent by GameStorming’s CEO, Caspian White.”
“Who?”
“It was an honest mistake. Look, I’m just a grunt. I don’t know it all, and I shouldn’t. But I know Daniel, and I know he needed different types of women for this. ‘The whole spectrum,’ he said. Because this isn’t just a search for a billionaire’s wife. It’s something else, too.”
I give my head a little shake. Logan must realize he’s saying too much. He pulls back.
“He needed someone like this one. Someone who has a … a devious mind, say, though I don’t even mean that pejoratively. It’s just that … well … people are all a little different. And for this contest, the company needed some of everything.”
I think of Roxy. Technically a sociopath. And all the other little things I’ve seen, as if some of these girls have superpowers. Abbie did a spelling demonstration for us the other day. It was already nuts, but then it got nuttier. Abbie explained that she spells well because she sees letters in color. Spelling even the most complex words, for Abbie, is as easy as describing a picture.
“One candidate stood out. But she’d engineered her selection. She knew what Daniel or whoever was in his position would be looking for, and made sure she matched it. He had no idea she was one of White’s girlfriends. He only knew what he needed to know: that she was a strategist. A manipulator.”
A manipulator.
“Kylie,” I say. I know it even better than I know she was the one who broke into my room. Leaked my private recordings. And put gum in my motherfucking hairbrush.
“The board found out. They were livid. They can’t get rid of her, or White will know Eros knows. So believe me: Daniel’s an inch away already. Not just from losing his position, but from losing everything.”
I swallow. Logan nods then waits until it’s clear, from my vacant expression, that I understand what’s at stake.
“I know you like him, Bridget. I can tell. And it’s sweet. I do know sweet, believe it or not, as hard an adjective as that is to use about Daniel. But you have to stay away from him. For his sake. I know how he is, and he won’t give up easily. So you have to be strong. Don’t let him down, Bridget. Don’t do this to him.”
Slowly, I return Logan’s nod.
But deep in the depths of my mind, I’m wrapping my hands around Kylie’s throat, and squeezing until her final breath is gone.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Daniel
I’ve got thirty pounds on Trevor, but he hasn’t forgotten how to fight. He’s faster than I am, and as much as I know and normally appreciate his schoolboy bullshit, I have to admit that it gets me every time. He’ll bob across from me, just beyond the round, red moons of my sparring gloves, and I’ll fall into the trap of believing that a kid a nice as Trevor looks could never move fast enough to get out of my way or hit hard enough to hurt.
It’s a mistake I constantly make. I’m bigger. He’s faster. And whenever we fight, we meet somewhere in between.
Neurologists say that habitual impressions carve actual, physical pathways in the brain. Changing an opinion or perception of someone isn’t just about deciding to change your mind. It’s hard to see people in new ways because doing so requires changing your mind … literally, in this case. I know it better than most. And still, to me, Trevor is the little scrapper he always was, and I remain his burly protector. Maybe that’s why we both like Parker, who came from such humble roots.
But Caspian’s a different story. He came from wealth, and it twisted him like a bad strand of wire. The public loves him. But there’s no question that he’s a son of a bitch.
Trevor and I are thirty minutes in, and there was little warm-up. We both went in hard, and we’re each about at our limits. I don’t know what’s in the air today, but I need this. I need the outlet. I need to beat myself, to come up crawling. My hair is a wet mess; there’s enough sweat rolling down my chest to leave
puddles against the nylon line of my shorts. My shoulders hurt from holding my gloves up. We normally go in rounds, but neither of us has wanted to stop.
“I want Caspian White off my back, Trevor,” I tell him.
We dance in circles, on our toes. Trevor feints with his right and jabs with his left. I weave, avoiding him easily.
“He’s your problem,” Trevor tells me.
“He’s the company’s problem.”
“If you don’t want him involved, just say so. Don’t be a bitch.”
I swing. I hit Trevor in the glove, but the glove is beside his head and he rings up a little. And that’s another thing. We should be wearing headgear, but for some reason neither of us picked it up today.
“Don’t like being called a bitch?” Trevor says.
“I don’t want him involved. But he comes with GameStorming.”
“Fuck GameStorming.”
“Alexa wants their data.”
“Fuck Alexa, too,” Trevor says.
I’ve considered it. On paper, no pun intended, Alexa is only a writer, and has almost no official power. Yet both of us know the true story, and it seems like everyone does what she says. Partly because she’s tough and forceful. But mostly, it’s that an intelligent person can see her vision, and wants it to bear fruit, no matter what must be crushed in pursuit of making it happen.
“Admit it, Daniel. You care about the company.”
“I appreciate ambition.”
“So accept it. We get his data, we make money. But the data comes with GameStorming. And GameStorming comes with Caspian.”
“It’s not just GameStorming. You know as well as I do that he’s backwashing from LifeLyfe.”
“I don’t know that at all,” Trevor says, grinning. “Because that would be illegal.”
We’re both exhausted. It’s the end of a long day, just three days from elimination. The girls all have their claws out. Soon, we’ll start seeing blood. Managing the contest and all the little competitions and dates is hard enough, but there’s more. With Bridget going cold, it’s like I’m corked. I hate to reduce her to a fuck toy, seeing as that was my attitude when she came here. But I miss her. I miss fucking her, too. I don’t know what changed. But the videos have stopped. And so has the banter. Because she says nothing, I need someone to punish.
Me first.
But Trevor will do, too.
“That’s another thing,” I tell him as he pokes at my abdomen, making me wince. “If anyone knows he’s coming here … ”
“That’s why he’s flying private. Coming in through the far entrance.”
“He wants to observe them, Trevor.”
“He just wants the data. He wants to see what he can learn from the ant farm.”
“But you know how he is. He’s twisted. Fucked up. I don’t like or trust him.”
I’m projecting, but I’m pretty sure my assessment is correct. Caspian is one of those odd people for whom everything is sexual, and yet he’s never out of a suit, never a hair out of place. It’s like he can fuck a girl from across a room, using only commands and judgmental stares. I’ve never liked or trusted him. I don’t want him around the girls. None of them.
“So cancel his visit,” Trevor says.
He’s distracted. He leaves me an opening, and I hit him hard enough in the kidney to leave him reeling against the ropes.
“Take it easy, shit,” he coughs.
But I don’t feel like taking it easy. I’m on my toes. Circling. Beat, yes. But wanting the pain, and to cause agony. Bridget’s done a number on me. I don’t like admitting defeat. I always fight through it, until I win. But so far, this time, I’m at an impasse.
“You know we can’t cancel.”
“Then let him come, what the fuck do you want from me?” Trevor seems agitated. Probably because this is supposed to be exercise, and I’m making it personal.
He swings into my kidney, which I see coming a mile off. I’m dodging when a big red glove comes at my face out of nowhere, and all of a sudden my head is spinning.
I shake it off. I had that coming.
“They can’t know.”
“Of course they can’t know,” Trevor says.
“There are some in our dirty dozen who, if they knew, would be able to — ”
“I said I agree. They can’t know he’s here. We meet. He looks from the gallery, reviews the tapes, sees the control room, whatever. But then he leaves. Believe me, I don’t like it either.”
Circling. Eyes hard. My mind keeps turning to Bridget and whatever has changed. How things were going until they suddenly stopped, the most justifiable excuse as the only reason: “It’s against the rules.” I guess she wants the money more than me. And I want to murder the world.
“If they knew, Trevor. If any of the girls knew Caspian Fucking White was doing this deal with GameStorming … ”
“I get it. I’m not a fucking idiot.”
He says it with such finality, his bitchy little way telling me to drop it. My jaw sets. He’s saying something we both agree on, but I still hate his tone. I don’t know why I’m so angry. Every answer irks me.
Sweat trickles down my back. Sweat runs from my bare shoulders and down my arms, dripping from my elbows.
“Three days,” he says.
“Must be nice. Deciding who goes and who stays.”
“What’s with the tone, Daniel? You helped design this. It’s for you as much as anyone.”
I don’t have a good answer. But I still feel like everything is too tense. Put a steel plate in front of me right now, and I’m sure I can stare a hole right through it.
“I assume you have everything you need to make your decision,” he says.
“It’s not up to me.”
“It’s partially up to you.”
We circle. The room is silent, except for the tapping of our feet in the ring.
“I guess I have what I need,” Trevor says.
He smiles — a shit-eating, devilish little cunt of a smile.
And I swing harder than I thought I had in me, striking Trevor in the side of his head, knocking him flat.
“Jesus Fucking Christ, Daniel! What’s the matter with you?”
I don’t answer. I tap my gloves.
“Maybe we should call it a day,” Trevor says.
“Maybe.”
Trevor gets up, taps his own gloves. And resumes circling. He throws a few fast punches in a flurry. Some connect; others don’t. I welcome even those that deliver pain.
“So,” I say. “Who?”
“I don’t make the final decisions.”
“Who would you choose?”
Trevor smiles again. It’s as if he’s forgotten that last punch.
“Blair.”
“I like Blair.”
“Kat.”
“She seems like a bitch. She’s been acting like a bitch to a lot of the others.”
“Not all of the others,” Trevor says.
We pace a circle. Trevor sniffs. Uses his arm to wipe sweat from his forehead.
“Ruby,” he says.
“The redhead?”
“You don’t approve?”
“On profile alone, I approve.”
“Maybe Roxy?”
“Why Roxy?”
“She’s hot.”
“She’s more fucked up than anyone here,” I say. “And she has that gap between her teeth.”
“You’re so shallow.”
“Does she give good head?” I ask.
“They all do.”
“Jessica?”
“She also gives good head. And she’s bi.”
The way he’s answering, I’m not sure he’s taking my sarcasm as serious. “This isn’t just about waxing your pole, Trevor.”
“No. But waxing my pole definitely matters.”
He’s digging at me. He can tell I’m pissed, and it’s making him angry.
“So you sample them all. Dip your wick wherever you can.”
“I
t’s why they’re here, Daniel. I wouldn’t advance anyone who didn’t meet certain minimum criteria.”
We circle. I feel the blood pulsing through my neck.
“Who else?”
Trevor looks right at me and says, “Bridget.”
This time, I hit him so hard, he strikes the ropes and rebounds. It’s like a pinball coming back out, so I hit him again in the face, then the side. He buckles and falls to his knees. I reach out to help him up, but he comes up swinging and racks me hard with an uppercut. I blink down. He spits, and there’s blood.
“You’re compromised,” he says.
“Bullshit.”
“Then what’s wrong with you?”
“You dropped your guard.”
“I’m not the only one.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
There’s a moment of relative quiet. “I don’t blame you,” he says. “I’d fuck her, too.”
I swing. Trevor ducks. He hits me in the stomach at exactly the wrong moment, and I crumple. He’s coming forward when I tackle him, our fight gone to the ground. We grapple that way for a while, but then I gain my leverage and toss him away. I could crawl over and keep hitting him, but this has gone on long enough.
So I stand, and use my teeth to pull off my gloves.
“Are we finished?” Trevor asks from the deck.
“We’ve been finished,” I say.
I grab my towel and leave him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Bridget
The list of people who seem to have a problem with me: Kylie, obviously. Ivy. Kat. Roxy. Maybe Abbie, I can’t tell. I’ve seen her around Ivy a lot in the last few days, and so I’m sure she’s heard Kylie’s version of who I am: a cheater, a conniver, and an absolute whore. At least everyone else here can say they’re simply partaking of what amuses and pleases them, whereas I’m being painted as looking for leverage to win. Fucking in private rather than out in the open, which for some reason is a bad thing in this place. Getting at Daniel to swing the vote, so I can make a bunch of money.
Burning Rivalry (Trevor's Harem #2) Page 11
