by Brynley Bush
“Yes, it is,” I say firmly. “I have no money and no place to live for the summer. But most importantly, I want to screw over Anthony Sanderson as much as he screwed me over. I’m in this for as long as I can make it last, no matter what.”
* * * *
An hour later, I’m feeling more like myself and ready to take on the world. I’ve showered and dressed in a simple but elegant deep-blue dress with a close-fitting bodice, a skirt that swirls around my thighs as I walk, and heels. When Emmett and I walk into the lobby this time, it’s teeming with people. There are more men than women—ranging in age from their early twenties to forties—and other than a few other couples who appear to be together, the majority seem to have come on their own. The women congregate in small groups, talking nervously, while the men seem more at ease, laughing easily together as they casually and unapologetically size up the women.
“Ladies and gentlemen, Doms and subs, welcome to the Helix.” The masculine voice cuts through the chatter, and a hush falls over the room as all eyes turn to the attractive man with dark blond hair dressed in a charcoal suit with a small microphone pinned to his lapel.
“Thank you for joining us for the Power Games. I’m Logan Stanford—owner and Master of the Dominion Club in San Francisco, Dominant, the host of The Power Games, and your main point of contact during the filming. I believe most of you met my wife and submissive Rachel when you arrived. She’s also here to help you with anything you need, so please feel free to ask either of us, or any of the production crew or hotel staff, if you need anything. I’m sure you’re all eager to begin, so we’ll start with a tour, followed by dinner, where you’ll be given the itinerary for the next few days. Now, if you’ll please follow me, I’ll show you around what is going to be the most talked-about hotel in the world in a few short months.”
The hotel is as massive as it is extravagant, and the tour takes a good hour. In addition to a casino, bar, restaurant, and several conference rooms on the second floor, the hotel also has a gorgeous pool surrounded by lounge chairs and private curtained cabanas, a pillared stage, and floating candles illuminating plush double settees strategically placed around the pool. There’s also a lushly landscaped garden with an elaborate hedge maze, a spa, a gym, and several more bars and restaurants, including one on the roof that overlooks the lights of the Las Vegas Strip. The thought of spending the summer at this luxurious resort for free is tantalizing.
Then we visit the Helix Room. This is the room that really makes the Helix unique, and it’s clearly built for things I have no concept of. At first glance, it resembles an opulent fantasy world straight from Arabian Nights, dimly lit with saffron-gold walls and gauzy gold and black fabric draped from the ceiling to create a tent-like effect. There’s a small sitting area, but instead of chairs, there are several large, round platforms upholstered in rich velvet with tasseled fringe in the middle of the vast space, as well as low sofas scattered with colorful pillows that line the walls from which brocaded drapes are hung. There’s also a stage, a few wooden structures shaped like Xs, half a dozen pedestals that look like they’re made for displaying sculptures, an assortment of padded benches and tables, a giant birdcage, and what I swear looks like a stockade.
Flustered, unsettled, and inexplicably vaguely aroused, I’m grateful when we return to the smallest of the hotel’s numerous restaurants for dinner. We select our entrées from a preset menu that includes shrimp scampi, chicken marsala, and cheese manicotti, and I have a feeling I’m going to have to become acquainted with the gym on the lower level of the hotel if all the meals are going to be like this. Champagne and Scotch are freely poured, and by the time Logan takes the small stage next to a gorgeous Steinway grand piano, we’re all feeling more at ease and the room is buzzing with a friendly hum of conversation.
I listen intently as he goes over the show and the rules for the next few days. The Power Games, offered on pay-per-view and online, will take place and be filmed at Club Helix with the contestants vying for the title of the Helix Dom and the Helix sub. There’s a one-million-dollar grand prize for both the winning Dom and the winning sub, and a half-million-dollar prize each for the runners-up. In addition, both the winning Dom and sub will be offered jobs at the Helix.
Although there are over one hundred applications that were accepted, by the end of the week there will only be twenty-eight contestants selected to compete in the Power Games—fourteen men and fourteen women. Doms and subs who entered without a partner will be randomly matched, and each Dom/sub pair will audition with a scene of their choice on Wednesday. The finalists will be decided based on audition by the director, producers, and Logan. Logan says something about there being an auction to determine how the remaining Doms and subs will be matched for the actual games, but I only listen with half an ear, grateful that I won’t have to worry about that. Instead I entertain myself by looking around the room at the variety of men and women whom I’ll be competing against, trying to guess which women will be catty and cutthroat and which men think they’re God’s gift to women.
An excited hum vibrates through the room when Logan announces that filming for the show will begin with the auction on Friday. I tune back in as Logan explains how the show will progress after that. Each round will consist of at least one private scene between each couple, which will be selected by the Dom, a group competition, additional footage at the discretion of the production team, and possibly a social function and/or time in the Helix Room, with viewers voting two couples off after the first four rounds and then one couple after each of the remaining rounds until there is a winning couple. I’m relieved to find out that the cameras aren’t rolling all the time, although the Dom has the final say over what is recorded and what isn’t outside of the official scenes. At least there’ll be some downtime, although I have no idea exactly what I’ll do with it; we aren’t allowed cell phones, books, magazines, movies, or music, and we can’t leave the property. We are, however, allowed to freely roam the hotel and interact with one another, so at least I can make use of the fabulous pool. After working and studying nonstop for the past four years, the thought of an entire summer with nothing to do but lie out at the pool and attend a few social functions sounds heavenly.
After informing us that all contestants will have to undergo a psych evaluation with a staff psychologist tomorrow, we’re invited to the rooftop bar for drinks and some time to get to know one another.
“Can’t we just go back to our room?” I complain to Emmett as we leave the dining room.
“Nope,” Emmett says resolutely. “I think how we interact with each other is going to be critical to getting votes and staying on the show. We’ve got to make friends.”
“Not my strong suit,” I say glumly.
Emmett lifts my chin with his forefinger until I’m looking into his cognac-colored eyes. “Don’t let what happened to you define you, Ava,” he says firmly. “You’ve kept your heart and your emotions locked up tightly for too long. You’ve got to stop being so afraid to open up. Not everyone is going to hurt you.”
“Okay,” I say with a sigh. “I’ll try.”
I do try, although years of protecting myself have made it hard for me to remember how to make friends. Emmett, on the other hand, has a natural and undeniable charisma, and people are invariably drawn to him. It’s funny, I think, how tragedy translates differently depending on the person. Although neither Emmett nor I trust easily, I come across as aloof and closed off while Emmett is the life of the party, hiding behind a gregarious facade that he’s erected to shield his heart every bit as much as my reserve guards mine.
However, before long I find myself talking to a bubbly blonde named Tessa who’s from Chicago, and who’s one of those easy, open people you just can’t help but like.
“Can you believe this place?” she asks, plopping down on the seat next to me.
“It’s amazing,” I agree. “Whoever’s financing this hotel must be loaded!”
Tessa nods. “It�
��s a bit of a mystery exactly who is financing the hotel. I think it’s another layer of the publicity plan to create some intrigue and mystery to add to the buzz about the resort, but whoever it is clearly has a ton of money and some pretty astute business sense. And did you see the Helix Room? It’s gorgeous but crazy intimidating.”
“Right?” I say, glad I’m not the only one who thinks so.
She lowers her voice confidentially. “I’m not intimidated. More like scared shitless. At least you came with your Dom.”
“He’s not my—” I begin, and then I catch myself. I look at her with a mixture of sympathy and curiosity. I truly can’t imagine being in her shoes. “I think you’re amazing. I don’t think I’d have the nerve to come alone.”
“So, why are you here?” she asks conversationally, throwing back the rest of her champagne and holding up her glass for a refill as a waiter comes by. “I figure everyone’s here for one of three reasons: money, fame, or sex. Or in the case of the guys, two reasons, because you know they all want sex!”
I laugh.
“Wait. Don’t tell me. Let me guess.” She looks at me consideringly. “Fame,” she finally decides. “You have that delicate, reserved look that makes guys think with their dicks. You could be a model.”
“Well, now we have to be friends,” I say with a smile. “You are without a doubt the first person who’s ever thought that about me. So why are you here?”
“Honestly? The sex.”
We both bust out laughing, and Emmett turns to smile at me.
“Oh, my God, he’s gorgeous!” she says breathlessly. “I can’t even imagine him being my Dom. All he’d have to do is look at me, and I’d do anything he wanted.”
I shrug. Although I can objectively see why women find Emmett ridiculously attractive, with his gorgeous skin the color of buttered caramel and expressive deep-brown eyes, to me he’s just Emmett. “So you don’t have a Dom?” I ask, eager to steer the conversation away from Emmett and me.
“No. I’ve actually never had a Dom before. I went to a BDSM club with a friend about six months ago in Chicago, and I don’t know, it just felt right, like I was home. Not to mention totally hot! I’d always thought something was wrong with me because sex just wasn’t all that exciting, but after five minutes in the club, I was more turned on than I’ve ever been in my life. I’ve been back a few more times to play with some of the Doms there, but I don’t really have a lot of experience. I’m kind of surprised my application got accepted. But I’m dying to see what it’s really like to be in a twenty-four-seven-type relationship, and I figured this was a safe way to try it without a huge commitment. I doubt I’ll get very far, though. There are a lot of women here who are lifestyle submissive’s and know way more about it than I do. But at least I’m here for the right reasons,” she adds vehemently. “Some of the women here don’t have a submissive bone in their body!”
I look away uncomfortably. “So, who do you want to be paired up with?”
She looks around the rooftop where people are gathered in groups, talking and sipping drinks. “That exotic-looking guy with the dark hair and almond-shaped eyes is pretty hot,” she says, nodding toward an older man who’s probably in his late thirties at the end of the bar. “Ooh! And that guy with the sexy scruff! I wouldn’t kick him out of my bed.”
I follow her gaze. “They’re both pretty attractive,” I agree, taking in the rest of the crowd. “But I don’t see anyone who really sets my heart pounding or my lady bits tingling.”
“I’m sure your Dom will be glad to hear that,” she says drily, giving me an odd look.
Crap. I’d better get my shit together, or I’m going to totally blow this. We talk for a few more minutes, and then the guy with the scruff makes his way over to join us. I give Tessa a pointed look and excuse myself to join Emmett. When we leave to go back to our room thirty minutes later, his hand is resting possessively on her thigh, and she’s gazing up at him with a look in her eyes that makes me wonder what I’m missing.
We’re free until after dinner the following day with the exception of the psychological evaluation, which I’m pretty sure I pass with flying colors. God knows I’ve had enough experience dealing with shrinks. The psychologist is a kind, middle-aged woman, and I know exactly what to say to make myself sound like a well-adjusted recent college graduate who’s interested in exploring my sexuality, having some fun, and hoping to get my foot in the door for my career in design.
Emmett and I spend the rest of the day by the pool along with the majority of the other contestants. With the sparkling turquoise water, the palm trees, and the scent of coconut oil permeating the air, all that’s missing for this to feel like a Caribbean vacation is the sand. Tessa and scruff guy, whose name is Luke, join us, and before long they feel like old friends. I wonder briefly if this will be like the summer camp I attended when I was a kid. You end up making close friendships quickly because you’re thrown together in such close proximity day in and day out, sharing a tiny world of your own making that no one else is privy to.
“Anyone want a drink?” Emmett says.
“I’ll take another one of those yummy frozen things,” I say lazily, squinting up at him from where I’m sunbathing on a chaise lounge.
“Me too, please,” Tessa chimes in.
“I’ll go with you.” Luke gets to his feet, and I close my eyes against the bright Nevada sun.
“What do you think you’re doing?” The sound of the stern masculine voice with the slightly gravelly rasp to it has me opening my eyes in confusion. I look up into the hard and unsmiling face of possibly the most magnificently gorgeous man I’ve ever seen. He definitely falls into the tall, dark, and dangerous category; he’s well over six feet tall with short, slightly tousled black hair, piercing blue eyes under thick brows that are knit together in a frown, and a strong, unyielding jaw. He’s wearing more clothes than anyone else at the pool, but I can see the hard lines of his broad shoulders and lean, muscular body beneath the expensively cut suit as clearly as if he were wearing a swimsuit. There’s an undeniable air of authority about him that has me squirming in my lounge chair.
“Excuse me?” I say.
His gaze travels insolently over the length of my body, and despite the fact that I’m wearing a two-piece swimsuit, I have to fight the urge to cover myself. I feel like I’m completely naked under his intense scrutiny.
“What are you doing?” he snaps. “This is Nevada. With your fair skin, you shouldn’t be lying in the sun like this. Your skin is already turning pink. You’re going to be burned to a crisp in another five minutes.”
I blink at him in surprise. Who the hell does he think he is? Temper wars with some strange but instinctive urge to please him. There’s something about him that is both commanding and intimidating, and I find myself stammering to explain myself.
“I put sunscreen on.”
“When?”
“Um…what time is it?”
“Time to put more on,” he says gruffly. “Give it to me.”
He holds his hand out, and somehow I’m reaching into my bag and pulling out the bottle of sunscreen and handing it to him. Our fingers brush, and I feel a jolt of electricity.
“Roll over,” he orders.
Without saying a word, I roll onto my stomach and close my eyes as strong, capable fingers rub the lotion into my sun-warmed skin. Although there’s nothing sexual about it—in fact, the way he’s efficiently rubbing the lotion onto my back feels almost businesslike—I feel a quiver of something unfamiliar deep in my belly.
“On your back now,” he orders brusquely, and I comply.
“I can get it,” I protest, but he ignores me as he firmly rubs more sunscreen over every inch of my exposed skin. This time it doesn’t feel so businesslike. He massages the lotion over my shoulders and across my upper chest, moving seamlessly to the exposed skin between my breasts and down over the flat expanse of my stomach. I close my eyes against the disconcertingly intimate way he’s touc
hing me. It’s wrong; I shouldn’t let a stranger touch me like this, but for the life of me I can’t find my tongue to stop him. His warm hand slips just under the band of my bikini bottom, and my stomach tightens at the stab of heat that goes straight through my core.
“What are you doing?” Emmett’s voice is even but firm above me.
I open my eyes to see the two men sizing each other up.
“Thanks for the drink, Em.” I feign nonchalance, trying to let him know I’m okay before he punches the guy. I hold my hand out, and he hands me the plastic cup, but his gaze doesn’t leave the other man’s face.
“Is this your sub?” the man asks, his face like granite.
“Yes.” Emmett’s answer is curt.
The man gets to his feet and tosses the tube of sunscreen to Emmett. “Then take care of her,” he says coldly.
“Who was that?” Tessa asks breathlessly as we watch the hot mystery man stalk back into the hotel.
“I have no idea,” I answer. “But I don’t think he’s one of the contestants. He wasn’t there last night.” I would have remembered those intense blue eyes and that imposing demeanor that makes every other man in the vicinity fade away.
“Good,” she says with relief. “He scares the crap out of me.”
“Me too,” I say honestly. But there’s something about him that’s oddly fascinating.
Chapter Two
Roman
“What do you think?”
I look over at Logan, who’s been my best friend for twenty years, and shake my head ruefully. “I think I’m an idiot for letting you talk me into this,” I say drily, gesturing at the flat screen where couples vying for a spot on Logan’s reality show, The Power Games, are presenting their first audition scenes, hoping to secure a spot as one of the twenty-eight contestants.
Logan laughs. “Come on, you’re the Domliest of Doms. Who better to help me choose the finalists?”