by Ella Miles
He stares at the boy, who just sealed his fate.
“What specifically are the rules?”
“Five minutes alone with her. You can’t remove clothing. You can only touch her with your lips. She ranks us all.”
Vincent looks bored now. “You can use the room there.” He motions to a small, almost closet-sized room, surrounded by translucent glass where I’m sure exotic dancers press against when they dance. “And I’ll add one small rule—whoever can make her scream the loudest with just their mouth wins an automatic ticket to the next round.”
I’m surprised Vincent is going to accept this guy’s idiotic game, but maybe he’s already over this contest to care. He gets what he wants—control over the different gangs and others threatening his power. And in the end, he gets to choose the most powerful alliance.
I have power in this game. I can scream when Beckett or Caius kiss me if I want them to advance. I can choose them as the best kisser. I can rank those I’m afraid of lower.
Hungry eyes from every angle twist the acid in my stomach.
It’s just a kiss—thirty-three kisses, to be exact.
My stomach burns at the thought, but I refuse to throw up. I refuse to show disgust, fear, anything.
I glance at Vincent out of the corner of my eye. He stares at me expectantly. And I remember—he’s been preparing me for this all my life. I remember the rules. They have five minutes to kiss me. They can only use their lips. But no one said anything about me having to let them kiss me. No one said anything about fighting back.
I’m ready.
7
Beckett
I roll my eyes at the ridiculous game the boy came up with. He looks maybe nineteen, practically the same age as Ri. And while I often think of her decisions as immature and irrational, his game is beyond foolish. He’ll end up paying the price for it. I can see it in Corsi’s eyes. The boy won’t be winning this game. He’ll be lucky to make it out of here unscathed.
I glance around at the at least a dozen boys that I hope learn from him. They have no business being in this game. They may be the same age as Ri, but they have no way of winning. Not when there are skilled monsters prowling, looking for their ticket to a mafia kingdom.
“Jameson will go first. Then names will be drawn to determine the order after that,” Corsi says, his tone deep and menacing.
Jameson smiles and practically skips toward the glass box while some smile and lick their lips at the thought of getting to make out with the princess. Others snicker, but the smart ones stand idly by knowing these first few games are just ways to weed out the idiots from the serious players.
Corsi whispers something in Ri’s ear. She doesn’t react to his words, but I’m guessing he’s giving her orders. I just can’t tell if she’s a willing participant or if she’s truly trapped in this world.
A moment later, she’s walking toward the box. Her shoulders are back, causing her breasts to push out against the thin material of her sparkly top that dips low enough to show her ample cleavage. Her tight pants hug the curve of her ass and the taut muscles of her thighs. Her heels clank against the floor as everyone stares, formulating a plan for how they are going to win her and the empire that comes with her.
Everyone here has their own reasons for wanting her, and I’m going to figure them all out.
Ri’s bodyguards follow her as she approaches the glass box. One holds out his hand to her to help her climb up the three steps that lead into the box. She refuses his hand, climbing effortlessly up in her spiked heels. She steps into the box that is no more than three feet by three feet, leaving only a foot of space between her and Jameson.
A guard standing next to Corsi opens his phone; I’m guessing to start a timer.
The boy grins and says something to Ri that none of us can hear.
A vicious smile slinks up her lips as she crosses her arms across her chest, her hip jutting out. She’s going to destroy him. He has no idea who she is. Yes, Ri is a princess, one who has never been given power over her own life, but she’s also damn strong. She’s no pushover. I don’t know why she does what Corsi says. I don’t know why she stays when she could run. But she doesn’t follow orders unless she wants to.
Jameson steps close, going in for a kiss.
She slaps him hard across the cheek, loud enough that we all hear her hand make contact with his face.
Ooohs, ahhhs, and chuckles leave the crowd.
Jameson grabs his cheek as shock and embarrassment flash in his eyes.
“Stupid boy didn’t realize that he needed to specify all the rules. He never made any rules for Ri. She can make this as hard as she wants for us. All we can use is our mouth to fight back. She’s going to annihilate all of us,” Caius says from next to me.
I lift my drink to my mouth. “Probably. At least the weak.”
“She’ll let us kiss her, though,” he says.
He’s probably right about that too, but I don’t care about the damn kissing game. I have more important things to do.
I tear my eyes from the glass box as Jameson tries a running approach that she easily sidesteps. He’ll be lucky if he gets his lips anywhere near her and is able to leave without a black eye.
I turn my attention to Corsi, whose lips turn up just the slightest as he watches his daughter. He seems proud, which only strengthens my resolve that she’s working with him.
“Oooh, that’s got to hurt,” a guy to our left says, watching the show.
I ignore him, despite my urge to see what Ri did. I saw what she did to him earlier.
I still can’t figure her out. Is she trained or just full of rage?
“So, what’s your plan for kissing her, Beckett?” Hayes asks in my ear.
“My plan is to observe the others and figure out the serious players. My plan is to listen in on conversations, to approach people and see how they react to me, see if they have a vendetta against me or us. My plan is to see if I recognize anyone. My plan is to place tracking and listening devices on anyone I can. That’s my plan. It doesn’t matter if I kiss her or not.”
“Fair enough,” Hayes chuckles; he can’t resist stirring up trouble. “Caius?”
“I’m going to kiss her like she’s never been kissed, make her want me,” he says stone-faced, still watching Jameson’s attempt to kiss her.
“And what if she was involved in Odette’s death?” I ask.
“Then, it will hurt her worse if she has feelings for me when we end her.”
My eyes search his, but all I see is the truth. Still no grief, just stillness and truth.
“Damn, she’s kicking his ass,” comes Lennox from my ear. “And I was hoping to get to watch her disgust as she gets kissed over and over again. But I bet no one other than ones she wants to kiss get anywhere near her.”
“Why do you hate her so much anyway?” Hayes asks.
“Besides the fact that I think she’s been lying to us this whole time? She’s Corsi’s daughter. She grew up with him, shares his blood. Some of him is bound to rub off on her,” Lennox says, the anger in his voice hiding his pain. This is personal; Corsi hurt someone he cared about.
I hear a smack, and then Hayes grumbles. “Jesus, Gage, what was that for?”
“For being an idiot. You know why Lennox feels the way he does. Now, stop gabbing and let Beckett and Caius focus. You should focus on her guards, the guy on your left is staring at Corsi more than Ri, and the taller guy behind you has been staring at you two,” Gage says. He hacked into the security feed and has been watching the whole scene on his phone.
“I’ll take the guy behind us; you take the guy on our left,” I say to Caius.
He nods.
And then we split up. My target is a tall, handsome man with dark, harsh eyes. His gaze doesn’t shift from me as I walk in his direction. He makes no move to hide his attention, which is going to make it hard to tag him with a listening and tracking device without him knowing what I’m doing.
I’m used
to being stared at, but this guy isn’t staring because of my arm. I take in his dark hair, sharp eyes, the scar on his cheek, but none of it rings a bell. I don’t know this man. I don’t know why he would target me or Odette.
But I won’t forget his face.
I down my drink. There is a bar behind him, so I make that my mission as I pass, avoiding his stare. I target one of his buddies instead, slapping a tiny device Gage gave me on the back of his jacket before I walk to the bar and order another drink.
The bartender immediately slides another scotch my way. She’s been keeping the drinks flowing; it’s easier for Corsi to control us that way. I take my drink and turn my attention back to the box.
“Time,” the guard next to Corsi says.
One of Ri’s guards opens the door and escorts a bloodied-nose Jameson out of the box.
She drew blood—impressive.
The guard calls out another name, and a guy to my left removes his jacket and rolls up his sleeves like he’s about to enter a boxing ring instead of a tiny glass box with a girl he’s supposed to kiss. He has muscles where the boy had none. Thick biceps, buff shoulders—not that he can use his muscles to grab her. But he’s far more intimidating than the boy. I’m curious if she fights him off or if he gets a kiss in.
He walks into the box cautiously, like he’s approaching a lion.
Ri’s removed her jacket, her strong shoulders ready as she holds up her fists in front of her face.
He licks his bottom lip, his eyes roaming over her body. He takes a step, trying to box her in, giving her little space to throw her arm back to get a punch in. She takes a step back before she realizes her mistake. He pushes his head quickly between her fists, and his lips land hard against hers.
“Well, that didn’t last long,” Lennox says giddily.
The man is good-looking, strong, and smart. And the way he moves his mouth over hers is skilled. She can’t help but enjoy his kiss.
I figure she’s given up fighting him and turn my eyes away to study the room when there’s a collective gasp then chuckle. My eyes glance back to see the man on his ass and her smirking triumphantly over him.
“You owe me fifty bucks, Len,” Hayes says through my earpiece.
“I’ll regain it soon enough. She can’t keep this up. She’s not strong enough or in good enough shape to take down thirty guys. Just hope your names are drawn last, and she’ll be too tired to put up much of a fight,” Lennox says.
I hold my glass up to cover my mouth, so no one sees me talking to myself. “You don’t have to worry about us. She wants us both. I’m sure it’s why she and her father killed Odette, so that she could marry one of us instead. They want the Retribution Kings for their own,” I say, afraid that by coming up with this game, I played right into their hands. I gave Corsi a way to chose Caius or me as her husband without ruining his alliances with the rest.
I glance to Corsi, who is staring at me like he’s already won. He doesn’t know what I have planned for him. I just need proof that I’m right.
I sit at the bar while Gage reports the conversations of the two guys we’ve put the listening devices on, but it’s mostly nothing. Hopefully, when they return home, they will be more open with their motives.
Guys enter and leave the box with Ri. Most don’t get their lips near her. Some achieve a few seconds kiss. The longest was about ten seconds. No one has managed to make her scream. And Ri holds them all off in different ways.
Caius approaches me.
“She’s been trained. She knows all the most sensitive places to attack. She varies her attacks so no one can predict what she’s going to do next. After twenty guys, she’s barely breaking a sweat,” Caius says.
I nod my agreement and tighten my eyes. “She played us, pretending to be the damsel in distress. She was never in distress. She’s been manipulating us this whole time.”
Caius narrows his eyes. “Maybe, but I want proof before we hurt her. We need her to trust us.”
“You get her to trust you. I’ll make her fear me.”
“Caius Monroe,” the guard calls his name out.
“Make her pay for what she did,” I say.
He downs his drink. “She’s going to be declaring her love for me as soon as my lips grace hers.”
“Just cover your balls, bro,” Hayes says from our earpieces.
“Nah, she likes me, thinks I’m sweet. She won’t nail me in the balls.”
“Clearly because she doesn’t know you,” Hayes jokes back.
Then Caius goes silent as he approaches the box. The long-haired guard opens the door for Caius, who steps in without emotion.
Ri studies him carefully.
They both stand on opposite sides of the box, about a foot of space between them. Neither of them speaks, but it doesn’t seem they need to. Ri stands at the ready just like she has with every other man—she won’t let him near her without him getting a black eye, knocked on his ass, or a kick to the groin.
I lift my drink as I watch closely. Maybe getting his ass kicked will knock some emotion into Caius.
Caius leans against the glass door casually, like he doesn’t care about what happens next. His mouth moves, and I know he’s speaking, but I can’t read lips, and he must have turned off his microphone.
I glance to Ri, ready to see her mind race with devious ways she plans on taking Caius down just like the rest of them. Her mind is working alright, but instead of thinking how she’s going to pummel his ass, her teeth scrape over her bottom lip. Her eyes glaze with whatever dirty thoughts he’s planting in her head.
Whatever he’s saying, Caius is good. He’s going to win by just spewing poetic, sweet nothings in her ear.
He takes a step, slow but purposeful, toward her.
Her hand that has been fisted, ready to throw a punch, relaxes. She doesn’t even notice when he takes another step, encroaching on her personal space as he speaks again.
She closes her eyes, and her chest swells as she holds her breath.
He doesn’t hesitate in the small opening she gives him. His lips dance over hers so slowly that I’m not even sure she realizes he’s kissing her. He coaxes her mouth open, holding his tongue back until she parts her lips on her own as she sucks in a deep breath. Then he makes his move. His tongue glides inside her pink lips, and her head tilts back as he catches her breath in his throat.
I want to tear my eyes away. He’s just playing her the same way I will, the same way she’s played us. Watching them together is just distracting me from doing what I came here to do—gather information about all the men in this room.
But I can’t tear my eyes away.
Glass breaks. I hear it before I feel it—the sticky alcohol, the sharp edges, the warm blood oozing out of the wound on my palm. I squeezed the glass I was holding so hard that it broke in my hand.
My nostrils flare, my heart races, and my chest heaves with each breath. A primal reaction grows deep in my core as I watch him kiss her like she’s a princess—tenderly, sweetly, and lovingly. And she lets him. She doesn’t fight. She wants him.
That’s why I’m angry. He’s treating her like an ally, not the enemy. I know his plan is to make her fall in love with him, but I suspect he’ll be falling for her long before she falls for him.
“You okay, sir?” the bartender says from behind me.
I nod, still not looking away as the rage rolls around in my chest like a fire growing out of control.
He hands me a napkin as I drop the broken glass to the floor. I wipe my hand, removing the blood and sticky residue of alcohol.
But I wish I had another glass to shatter right now or a brick wall to punch. Caius is no longer coaxing Ri, Ri is kissing him back.
I want to tear their lips apart.
No, what I really want is to punch Caius in the face.
Thankfully, Ri finally comes to her senses and does that for me.
It’s a hard punch; she throws her full body into it even though she barely has the
space to draw her arm back. But it’s enough to draw blood.
Caius touches his split lip, wiping the single drop of blood off. He doesn’t show emotion. No cocky smirk. No triumphant smile. No shock at her outburst.
He just turns and walks out even though his time isn’t over yet, leaving Ri to glare at the back of his head.
Caius makes his way to a group of men that he’s supposed to be spying on after he leaves the box. He doesn’t come to talk to me; he doesn’t approach me at all.
The guys joke in my earpiece about the kiss and the punch, but I click the volume off. I can’t hear any of it. I’m still trying to process my reaction and why I’m feeling it. My inner heat sweeps through me until my entire body is on fire. All I feel is the tingling of jealousy of another man touching what’s mine.
My plaything.
My enemy.
Mine.
A couple more men are called next. None of them get close to her. Most don’t try after seeing the rage in her eyes after Caius succeeded where the others didn’t.
I don’t understand why she’s so upset. She likes Caius. Is she just mad she let her feelings for him show so soon in front of her father, who will probably eliminate him first round just because she likes him?
“Beckett,” my name is finally called.
Now I know exactly how I’m going to make it clear to her that she belongs to me, not Caius, not her father, not any other man in this room. I may hate her, but that doesn’t make it any less true.
8
Ri
I’m on autopilot as I punch, kick, attack, and generally ensure that every guy that enters after Caius gets nowhere near my lips and leaves in enough pain that they won’t come near me again. My mind is still on that kiss, on our conversation, on everything that happened when Caius stepped foot in this glass box.
Caius leans against the box, barely looking at me. His eyes are glossy. He shows no emotion, but I can tell he’s thinking about his sister, about his loss. Beckett wasn’t the only one who had his heart ripped out of his chest. While Beckett has become a tornado of rage, Caius is a calm sea. He’s capable of rhythmic waves or a hurricane of emotions at any moment.
