Burning Choice (Trevor's Harem #3)

by Aubrey Parker

  “Do it, Trevor. He’ll only be more pissed if he sits down ready to play judge and no one comes to be judged. I don’t know if freaks like him get boners, but if anything gives that fucker wood, it’s the sick shit he probably has planned. Something tells me blue balls won’t improve his mood.”

  “We told him he couldn’t touch the contestants,” Trevor says.

  The irrelevance snaps my temper. I stop and face Trevor in the hallway.

  “We tell him all sorts of shit, Trevor! We told him not to get involved. We told him not to snoop into the database. We told him not to call us, and we told him not to visit. Then he was only supposed to observe the test, not participate in it. But right now he’s downstairs, in a tux, on a goddamned throne in a dungeon. This was never on the protocol sheet! This was never part of the experimental design!”

  Trevor makes a pouty little frown. But what the hell; it’s better than going into our standard pointless argument about how we should simply refuse Caspian’s demands. As if life were that easy.

  “Just go down there and tell him it’s off. Okay? If he balks, tell him he can officiate the next round instead.”

  “The next round? Why not this one?”

  “I’ll explain it all later. Just do it.”

  I watch to see if he’ll fight me. In plenty of ways, Trevor’s supposed to order me around. I don’t care. Today, I’m the boss.

  His jaw sets, but Trevor turns to do as he’s told. He takes one of the more subtle staircases rather than going the long way to one of the big ones on the hall’s either end. A few minutes from now, he’ll be conveying bad news to a man who doesn’t like being denied. I don’t envy Trevor. But I envy myself even less.

  I have to get to Kylie. I have to talk to Kylie.

  What must happen will happen. But if things aren’t orchestrated just right, we’ll all be in a world of shit.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Bridget

  “I hear,” says a purring voice behind me, “that someone’s going to be kicked out today.”

  I turn. It’s Kylie. I swear, the bitch practices rear attacks like a ninja because her first volley is rarely from the front. It’s like she’s living in a movie and always needs to make the most dramatic appearance possible.

  “You’re so smart, Kylie. I wish I was like you.”

  She smirks. It’s probably supposed to be superior, but it looks like she’s chewing a lemon.

  “You think I’m lying.”

  “I think you’re so incredibly insightful, you’ve come to a conclusion all of us already knew.”

  She gives a little laugh. If one of her cohorts were beside her to laugh back, it might be effective, but Kylie’s all alone. She has no allies. No Ivy, no Roxy. The guys can’t get enough of her, but that doesn’t count. Cocks only have so much loyalty, and playing Mugsy to a playacting cunt isn’t something they’re usually interested in.

  “I feel so sorry for you, being all alone.”

  She smirks again. “You would think that.”

  I don’t want to play this game. I just came down here to get a bagel and some afternoon coffee. A lot of the girls who’ve paraded through this place won’t eat carbs and double up on coffee for the metabolism-boosting effects, but fuck them. I’ll eat these bagels right in front of her. Then I’ll order donuts and eat those, too. I’m going to balloon two sizes while Kylie watches, just to show her that fat and happy is a thing, and that waifish and bitchy is far less attractive.

  “Slather some peanut butter on that, why don’t you?” Kylie says, looking at my bagel as if it did something to offend her.

  “I’m allergic to peanuts. Just like you’re allergic to rock climbing.”

  It’s a tiny jab, but it makes Kylie’s eyebrows draw together. I turn away.

  “So you’re not at all curious,” she says.

  I don’t even know what she’s talking about. “No.”

  “I’m not talking about the planned elimination.” She huffs. “Weren’t you curious why today’s challenge was cancelled?”

  “No,” I repeat, now actively walking away.

  Kylie trots along behind me. I can hear her heels clicking, but I won’t give her the satisfaction of turning to look. Although I kind of want to. Daniel told me about her nerve-coordination issue, and I’ll bet if I get her moving fast enough, she’ll topple like a baby giraffe trying to stand. If I hear asymmetry enter her footsteps, I’m definitely looking back. I don’t want to miss that.

  “The challenge was cancelled because it’s no longer necessary. Because someone has learned something that’s going to get some bitch’s skinny ass booted out of this competition.”

  I actually close my eyes and shake my head a little. It’s so irrelevant. Kylie is so incapable of getting a rise out of me anymore. She’s like a fire: She must be starved of fuel. If you don’t banter back, she’s just petty snipes and meaningless threats. She couldn’t get me ejected on Day One and hasn’t been able to get rid of me since, despite constantly trying. I barely hear her threats, and they’re unworthy of response.

  I don’t even say, That’s nice, which is what comes to mind. I keep walking, munching my bagel.

  “I know about your mother,” Kylie says.

  I stutter half a step but quickly recover quickly — she’s used that one a few times before.

  “If you think Onyx can hide her, you’re mistaken,” she says.

  My feet stop. Kylie comes so close to ramming me from behind, I can smell her breath as she exhales over my shoulder. I hear her take a step back as she waits for me to turn. I know I’ve already given her the reaction she wanted, but I can’t help it. I can’t just ignore a comment like that. Nobody is supposed to know about the fixer — nobody. That’s the reason he costs half a million dollars: he’s supposed to make people disappear, not make them appear on the lips of fucking asshole bitches clacking in heels behind you. The only people who’d know about Onyx and the fact that Jenny hired him are Jenny, Onyx, and I. I was alone when I talked to her, and even held a shirt over my mouth to muffle the sound when I spoke the finest of details, so close to the tablet that only Jenny could possibly have heard me, and —

  I stop.

  The tablet.

  From behind me, Kylie says, “It’s amazing, the things that people trust.”

  The tablet, which Daniel gave me. Which went right back to him when I was done.

  “It’s amazing,” Kylie purrs, “the people that people trust.”

  I want to spin around. To punch Kylie in the face. To claw her eyes out. To scream at her and wrap my hands around her throat, choking her blue. She’s tall and lean and probably stronger than me, but not right now when I feel like I could twist iron.

  But I don’t turn. I manage to keep my fists from clenching, not betraying how deeply she’s burrowed under my skin. But Kylie can smell blood in the water, and she’s right behind me the minute I resume walking. I don’t know where I’m headed, but that’s okay. The corridor winds only one way, and all the doors are closed. The house is finally working in my favor, helping me to go somewhere else without having to choose my direction. Wherever this leads, that’s where I’m going. And if Kylie keeps pushing, I’ll find a nice, tidy corner in which to kill her.

  “You’re gone, bitch,” I say, marching faster. “You’re so out of here, it’s not even funny.”

  The first person I see, I’ll tell them to get me Caspian White. I don’t know the Kylie story as well as Kat does, but it’ll be enough to get Caspian started. I’ll bet he remembers being ripped off. I’ll bet that once I start talking, he’ll recognize Kylie as the thorn in his side. In the Russian Mafia’s side.

  “Oh, I don’t think so,” Kylie says.

  “I know about you and Caspian White.”

  Sweetly: “Oh, do you? Well, that’s very nice for you.”

  Of course. Kat confronted her with this weeks ago, at the first elimination, and I was standing between them. Kylie’s had time to compose her r
esponse for the day I finally leveled the threat, so she sounds like it doesn’t bother her. But what was once a vague, many-stepped threat weeks ago is now a clear and present danger. Caspian White isn’t a reclusive society icon today. Right now he’s somewhere in this house, with ears as capable of hearing treachery as mine are. It’s a front. She’ll try talking me out of it, probably through detente with the information she has on my mom — that, I’m beginning to suspect, Daniel may have leaked to her. Or, for his own always-secretive reasons, simply told her outright.

  “It’s a nice story, the tale your Russian friend tells about me,” Kylie says.

  Walking faster. Trying to make her falter and trip.

  “I know it’s true,” I say.

  “It’s not true at all.”

  I finally turn and face her. She must see the fire in my eyes because she actually falls a step back. Then she blinks, and her composure returns, but for that brief moment I had her. There’s a person inside this shell after all.

  “Say what you want,” I tell her. “Threaten my family if you feel the need. Just know that no matter what you say or do, I’m going to tell Caspian what I know — and as soon as I find her, Kat will tell him what she knows. Don’t bother trying to convince me or the cameras that you’re innocent. All that matters is what Caspian believes.” I can’t keep a tiny, bitter smile off my lips as I finish. “And afterward, we’ll find out if it’s still worth worrying about your threats against me … or if — after Caspian talks to his Bratva friends about you — they suddenly and mysteriously disappear.”

  Kylie’s face cracks again, and this time I know I’ve punched her where it hurts. She backs up. I pace her, knowing she’s on the ropes. We’re approaching a hallway that juts off from the right, and I can hear someone coming down it. Maybe it’s Caspian. Maybe my dreams are about to come true.

  “Nobody’s going to believe you, including Caspian,” she says. “You only have the word of one silly girl.”

  “It’s three against one,” I say.

  The sound from the adjoining hallway crests, and in the lull between us two people spill out, rushing forward, entangled. For a moment I think it’s Jessica and one of the studs, rushing out in a fit of hormones, in search of a place to make out. Chemistry covers them like mist.

  But it’s not Jessica and Tony, or Jessica and Richard, or Jessica and Logan. It’s not even Jessica and Trevor.

  It’s Jessica and Daniel.

  Hand in hand.

  Bodies stumbling, pressed close together.

  Kylie leans closer and speaks quietly, so the others won’t hear. She smiles at me then winks.

  “Exactly,” she says. “It’s three against one.”

  Jessica looks up and sees my stare. Sees the torrent of conflicted emotions inside me. Daniel’s eyes go to Kylie, and I see relief, as if he’s been searching for her. But he sees me, too. I can tell he wants to say something, but I see reluctant decision before he turns to Kylie and whispers in her ear.

  Jessica sees me look at her hand, intertwined with Daniel’s. She drops it like he’s burned her and says, “It’s not what you think.”

  My lips are suddenly dry. Kylie’s words ring in my mind. She has a serpent’s tongue; she only tells lies. And yet I can’t stop hearing those words, like they’re a recording on a loop.

  It’s three against one.

  “Kat,” I rasp. I’m fighting a parched mouth, my gaze jumping like a frog between Jessica, Daniel, and Kylie. “I need to find Kat.”

  Kylie’s lips break into a wide smile. The overhead light winks against her tiny nose stud.

  “Oh, sweetie,” she coos. “Kat is gone.”

  She looks at Daniel. I’m staring at him too, but he won’t meet my eye.

  Kylie puts the back of her hand beside her mouth and adds, in a gossipy whisper, “Turns out, she was gay.”

  I look at Jessica: the only person other than me who knew Kat’s secret.

  I look at Daniel: the only person other than me and Jenny who knew about Onyx.

  And I look at Kylie, who’s shifted closer to them both, farther from me.

  It’s three against one.

  Jessica and Daniel. Daniel and Jessica.

  My mind flashes back to all the evidence: the secret room, away from the cameras, that Jessica found for him. The day they came to my door together, and Daniel left without saying a word. The times I’ve seen them together, oddly paired, without any alternate explanation. The countless meaningful glances I’ve seen them exchange. Things Daniel said; things Jessica said. All pointing to a secret about the other that neither would tell me.

  I glare at Jessica. My Jess, who wanted to take first place in this contest before we all decided that Kat should have it instead.

  I feel like I might faint. Only Kylie will look at me while the others gaze at the walls, at each other, at their own feet. I can’t read body language the way Daniel claims to be able to, but I’m not so stupid that I can’t read this.

  But Jessica. But Daniel.

  They wouldn’t do this to me.

  … would they?

  FIND OUT HOW IT ALL ENDS!

  Get the FINAL BOOK in the series here:

  http://aubreyparker.net/ultimatum

  With Trevor’s contest at its end, it’d be easy to say we’re three against one. And yet I’ve never felt so alone.

  My heart is torn, twisted, ripped. Everyone is loyal to something or someone in this place — though it’s seldom what it seems. I don’t know who’s with me and who’s against me — if I’ll go home with my new protector … or be kept here forever.

  I couldn’t possibly be what Eros has combed the world for … can I?

  Click the link to learn HOW THE STORY ENDS in THE BURNING ULTIMATUM:

  http://aubreyparker.net/ultimatum