Six Zeros: The Game Series #6 Read online

  I flip through three more until I find a redhead. "Oh, she looks cheap and slutty." I hand it to him.

  "I warn you, Ella," Tobias says as he takes the folder and throws it down. "Find the perfect one."

  I tilt my head to the side, flicking my gaze down his body and then back up. "She doesn't exist. There is no girl who can win your game," I say with a hiss.

  A slow smile pulls at his lips. "Is that so?"

  "Sweet Ella, why would you say such a thing?" Preston steps beside me, placing his hands on my arms. I tense under his touch for the first time since I met him— met them. I suddenly feel soiled and cheap, a whore of the worst kind, a whore who begs to be fucked by two men at the same time without ever seeing a dollar for her efforts.

  I stare at Tobias and his eyes lock with mine as he steps forward. He grabs my chin in a ruthless grip. Tilting his head ever so slightly, he brings his lips mere inches from mine. "I think you've forgotten this is a game..." he breathes against my lips, "but, isn't that what love is anyway? A game, my dear little lamb?"

  My heart hammers in my chest awkwardly. It's just a game. Just a game. They don't want me. They want to replace me. I meet his gaze head on. "I wouldn't know," I whisper, hoping he feels the blow I so desperately want to deal him, but the truth is, you can't hurt someone like him. He has no feelings to hurt.

  "Oh," he releases my chin from his grip, "I think you know, little lamb…"

  And with that he walks off, picking up a file from the desk. He flips through it, every so often glancing up at me. "You don't understand," he says. "I cannot pick this girl." He tosses the folder on the desk and drags his hand down his face.

  "You have to pick, Ella," Preston says, grabbing the stack and handing it back to me. "You've really no idea how important this decision is."

  Suddenly, the air in the room changes, and fear consumes me. What is it they’re not telling me? I sift through the folders once again, glancing at the pictures. Every girl in here is alone. Broken—just like I was, and I can't help but think maybe these two men are sick, twisted forms of saviors. But I don't want them to be anyone else's god. Just mine. Every girl I look at, I can't help but to imagine her in their arms, with that bliss I've grown to know swallowing her instead of me. I close my eyes and my heart bangs angrily against my ribs. How is it that they have done this to me? Six days and they've unraveled the very fabric of my being. My chest tightens as I find my pick. Lily Davis. 27. A brunette with bright blue eyes. I don't know why I've chosen her or what it means, but I have. Swallowing, I hand the file to Tobias. "This one."

  He opens it. "Why?" he asks without looking away from the paper.

  "I don't know. She felt right, I guess."

  Exhaling, he closes the file and places it on his desk. "Very well." He pushes off the desk and straightens his jacket. "Go out into the lobby and take her to the conference room."

  I stare at him, sweat slicking my palms. "I'm sorry..."

  "Go get her."

  I glance at Preston and he slowly nods his approval. I do as told, leaving the office and heading to the lobby where at least fifteen women must be waiting. I notice Melissa Thompson and my stomach rattles with nerves. All of these women...

  I clear my throat. "Lily Davis," I say, my voice trembling.

  The slim brunette stands up, smiling as she walks toward me in her business suit. She looks so hopeful, but I know what fate awaits her and selfishly I want to tell them all to run. But I can't.

  "How are you?" she asks.

  "Good. And you?"

  "Great."

  I lead her to the conference room and show her to the desk. "Mr. Benton will be with you shortly," I say, and I leave, wondering if the woman who showed me to this very room was their sacred little plaything before I was.

  When I step back into their office Tobias is on the phone. "I don't care about the change in rules—" he falls silent when he sees me. "If you must. But she will not stay the night. This is my last night."

  He hangs the phone up and Preston already has my purse in his hand. "Where am I going?" I ask.

  "You have to go to Three today."

  "I don't want to."

  "It will be fine."

  A fissure of genuine fear winds through me. "No—"

  Preston gently grabs my arm and leads me through the door. "Sweet Ella, don't worry. We'll see you tonight at the ball.”

  I glance over my shoulder at Tobias as we step onto the elevator. "Tobias."

  "Rules are rules, little lamb."

  "Complete submission," Preston reminds me. "Only one more day. And only one strike left."

  I draw in a deep breath, fighting the fear and rage pummeling through me like an angry wave. When the doors to the elevator slide open, they both escort me through the foyer and to the front doors. And, of course, by the curb waits a sleek black car. As always.

  Tobias' insistent hand presses against the small of my back as he guides me toward the car. Preston moves ahead of me and opens the back door. I can see nothing beyond the bright sunshine outside of the car. That doorway just looks like a deep, dark, black hole.

  "I'll miss you, sweet Ella," Preston says, stepping closer to me and trailing his fingers down my cheek. He tilts his head to the side, his eyes tracking the brush of his fingers on my skin before he lifts my chin and gently presses his mouth to mine. My lips part instinctively and the warm rush of his breath works over my face as he huffs a small laugh. When he pulls back, a small smile graces his lips. "Always so willing," he whispers before he turns away.

  I slowly turn to face Tobias. He's not one for sweet farewells. Because, well, that would imply that he cares. I'm just a toy to him. A stupid, broken little toy who doesn't want to be shared with his twisted friend. His hand rests on my hip, the weight a reminder that he owns me.

  My gaze meets his dark green eyes before dropping to his broad chest. I stare at the perfect stitching on the edge of his jacket, the navy-blue material of his suit shines ever so slightly in the bright sunlight.

  "Please, don't make me go," I whisper so quietly I almost hope he didn't hear me. I only have one more strike and even begging can be taken as a lack of submission with him.

  "Some things," he brushes his finger over my cheek, "we have no choice in my sweet, little lamb." His eyes drift to my lips and an uneasy grimace settles on his face which leaves my stomach in knots.

  Tobias leans into the car and glances at the driver. "Take care of my little lamb." When he straightens up, he grabs me by both shoulders and presses his mouth over mine in an unforgiving kiss. His tongue sweeps over the part of my lips, warm and greedy. This kiss feels electrically charged. Almost like a goodbye, and that scares me. When he pulls away from me, a sad smile graces his lips.

  "If I were capable of feelings..." He lets the words hang in the air, and I feel the weight of them, because they make me feel less wrong. Less corrupted and twisted. Less crazy for feeling the way I do about this man. Less weak for accepting the way he makes me feel when I know I should fight it.

  I climb into the car and Tobias' eyes lock with mine one last time before he slams the door shut, blocking the sunlight from outside and cutting out all sense of warmth. Tobias claps his hand over Preston's shoulder and they walk back to the entrance of the building together.

  The car pulls away from the curb and I want to throw up. The driver winds through the hot, cramped streets of New York, and even though the people walking down the sidewalks look sweaty and tired, I wish I were in their place right now. The icy chill of the air conditioning has goose bumps rising on my skin and I wrap my arms around myself. We drive for what feels like an hour before we finally pull up outside a house. A normal house on a normal street. The driver gets out and opens my door, waiting patiently for me to exit. I climb out and the heat from the pavement rises in waves to greet me.

  "This way," the driver says. I follow him across the street and he leads me up the steps of a red brick townhouse. When he opens the door, he steps back
to allow me inside. The second I cross the threshold, the door slams. He left me.

  I stand here, like a deer caught in headlights with my heart pounding, my instincts screaming at me to just open the door and run. Ahead of me is a grand staircase with tall, stained-glass windows behind it. Light billows through, hitting the crystal chandelier and casting little spots of light across the marble floor. I'm used to Tobias' and Preston's money, their nice cars, expensive suits, but this...this is an Old- world kind of money, like something out of The Great Gatsby. It's really quite beautiful.

  I trail my fingers over the small table in the middle of the foyer, inhaling the scent of the fresh lilies sitting in a vase.

  "Ah, pretty." I jump at that distinctive British lilt and my gaze snaps up to the staircase. Three is standing there, the window behind him with the brilliant light outlining his frame. I can't make out his face. Again. This seems to be his way, hiding in plain sight.

  "Three," I breathe.

  "Turn around, pretty."

  I slowly turn away, facing the glossy black door with its shiny brass doorknob. His shoes click across the marble floor. With every step that he takes my heart beats a little louder as though it is trying to drown out the unwanted sound of his approach.

  His fingers barely brush over my shoulder and I tense. "I won’t hurt you, Ella."

  I don't believe him. He wants to degrade me, to make me nothing more than a toy. And while it is the same as Tobias and Preston, with them it's different. His hot breath washes over my neck and I close my eyes, clenching my jaw against a wave of nausea.

  "You tense at my touch and yet you crave Tobias." He laughs. "I can understand the lure. He is...a force of nature, something that calls to even the strongest of us. Do not feel ashamed for wanting him, my pretty little toy. Do not feel ashamed for wanting them. They are masters at this game and you are simply their pawn, here for their amusement."

  "I am here for your amusement," I say.

  "Ah, yes," he says, his lips right next to my ear. "But I never claim to be anything other than a monster, pretty." He inhales along my throat. "I would devour you, ruin you and break you, but I would also claim you. I would lay waste to all who would hurt you, including them." The power in his voice. The ease with which he says the words, makes me shiver.

  I don't understand this. Why me? Of all the girls in this city, why me? Is it because I'm stupid enough to fall into this game? I am crazy though, right? So, they needed a crazy girl with nothing to lose, a girl who would fall into their manipulations. My mind spins. The words Tobias and Preston have spoken playing back through my head on repeat, and I wonder, did they mean that? Am I special? Am I superior? Or am I just another useless toy, a broken doll waiting to be cast aside?

  I imagine that when they are finished with me, they'll throw me out with all the other unwanted dolls, and there we will lay, a mass of tangled limbs and tear-stained faces, our hearts and minds shattered beyond all repair. No one will ever play with us again.

  "I will have you, Ella,” he says. “One way or another." I swallow hard. "This doesn't need to be horrible." His fingers sweep my hair from my neck and then his lips gently press into the top of my spine. His warm fingers trail down my arms. He lacks the brutality of Tobias, the cocky, playfulness of Preston. I don't want him, but I fear I have no choice. "Close your eyes."

  I close my eyes and feel the silky brush of material over my face before it's fastened over my eyes. "Just a precaution."

  He takes my hand, threading his fingers through mine as he leads me away. My heart is pounding, adrenaline flowing freely through my veins because without my sight, I have to trust him. I do not trust him.

  He leads me until marble becomes carpet under my feet, and then I'm pushed backward. A small squeak slips from my lips before soft couch cushions engulf me. Three's hands land on my hips, and he twists my body, yanking me down until I'm lying on my back. I can barely hear him through my own pounding pulse.

  He strokes his fingers gently over my cheek and down the side of my throat. "You are so beautiful, Ella. You've always been so beautiful. So fucking perfect for me." His fingers skim the tops of my breasts and he huffs a small laugh. "I could give you the world." The way his lips play over my jaw makes me tremble.

  "But I'm just a toy," I breathe.

  He laughs. "Oh no, my pretty, you are the ultimate prize."

  Could that be? Am I the prize instead of a player. Three players. Tobias. Preston. Three, and me. The prize. Win or lose, does my part in this game even matter?

  His lips slam over mine and I tense. He tastes clean, of mint and something achingly familiar, but my mind refuses to explore him anymore because my body instinctively locks down. My hands brace against his chest, waiting to push him away. I press my lips tightly together and my thighs clamp shut. His mouth works over mine, demanding entrance, commanding compliance. His fingers grip my hips so hard it hurts and he shamelessly grinds his hard dick against me.

  With a growl, he tears away from me, leaving me lying on the sofa, shaking and breathing hard. In my forced blindness, I listen hard but hear nothing at all.

  "I have a little test for you," he says, his voice surprisingly close. "Come." He takes my hand and helps me up before leading me once again through the house. A door clicks opens and then closes behind me with a soft thud. The temperature drops and our footsteps echo off the walls. A nervous tremor works over my body when he pulls me to a stop.

  "Sit." He guides me and I feel something behind my legs. I sit and the cool leather of the chair bites against my bare thighs as my dress rides up. "The test is simple. You just have to answer my questions." I swallow and nod. "Good." He takes my arm and places something around it, tightening it.

  I hear a chair creak and I guess he's taken a seat. There's a clicking noise and a low hum. "Now, Ella, tell me, what is your name?"

  "Ella Taylor."

  "And what's your date of birth?"

  "August 6th, 1992."

  "Have you ever loved someone?"

  I swallow heavily, feeling sweat dot the back of my neck. "Yes."

  "Who is the last person you have loved?" He pauses. "And may I remind you, you shouldn't lie..."

  I hesitate, the word on the tip of my tongue. Is it a lie? I'm not sure anymore. "Sawyer," I whisper, his name sounding like a question more than an answer.

  Three sighs. I hear something tap over a desk. "Ella...are you lying, or are you just plain stupid?"

  "I'm....I don't know. I'm nervous!"

  A slow laugh leaks from his throat. "Oh, it cannot be...do you love Tobias Benton?"

  My heart pounds unsteadily. Do I? No, I can't. He's twisted and depraved, my tormentor, and....and my salvation. I both hate him and crave him. Is it possible to hate someone and love them at the same time? I don't want to love him because if I do then that surely makes me the weakest of all creatures, something truly broken and pathetic. "No," I say so quietly the word is barely more than a breath.

  A low growl echoes around the room. "Ella, you are trying my patience. Do not fucking lie to me." He groans. "Do you love Tobias Benton?"

  Love and hate. Hate and love. Need and safety, warmth and pleasure and above all, that pure sense of right amongst all the wrong. I think of that sense of invincibility I feel in his arms, the way he makes me feel when he tells me he's proud of me. I think of the way I crave him as though he were the very air I need to survive. His brutal touch, his unbridled cruelty saddled with the sweetest kisses. "Yes." A confession, a plea, and a ruthless condemnation of my very self.

  There's a moment of silence, a moment when the tension grows so thick I feel as though I cannot breathe and then—bam. Something is knocked to the floor. A chair scratches across the floor, I assume as Three stands, and then I feel him right in front of me, his hot breaths washing across my face.

  "You love him?"

  I breathe in and out, in and out. "I don't want to."

  "You don't—" he laughs, "you don't want to? Why d
o you love him? How could you possibly love him?"

  "I don't know!" I scream. And I don't. I can't explain this, can't rationalize it, and yet, it doesn't need rationalizing. Tobias is his own entity, a singular inconsolable force, and I wonder if this is truly the game? A game of feelings, a war of the heart.

  "You do realize you've lost?" Three says with a snarl. "What was their rule? Do not develop feelings. You've lost, Ella..."

  I shake my head, allowing the realization to sink in before a sense of calm washes over me. "You can play your games, you can manipulate me and fuck me, but the heart cannot be controlled. Not even by me. If I have lost, then so be it." The growing tension radiates off him. It bothers him. He and Tobias, they have some kind of rivalry, so I use it. I push him, because at this stage I suppose I have nothing left to lose. "Tobias won," I say, a smile touching my lips.

  "Did he?" I feel him in my face, his lips brushing over mine. "Did he win? You have no idea what this game really is, no idea the stakes, no idea what you have just lost." He grabs my face, his fingers digging into my skin.

  "I had nothing to lose," I say, my voice sounding stronger. I have had enough of these men, of their games and their tactics.

  "You had everything to lose, you just weren't aware of it." He yanks me to my feet and leads me out of the room. I hear a door slam behind me. "If you lose, I lose and I'm not a loser, Ella. We are not going to mention this. You can't possibly love him, you simply must be confused." There's an edge of panic—hysteria even in his tone. "You shouldn't love him."

  He leads me through the house again, this time gripping my wrist hard enough to bruise my skin. I'm stumbling after him, tripping and falling, but he never slows down. I hear a door open and then I'm shoved inside a room. My knees collide with the soft carpet. "Put on the dress and be ready with the blindfold on in fifteen minutes." Then the door slams shut.

  I tear off the blindfold, glancing around the lavish room. A four-poster bed sits in the middle with drapes of gauzy material hanging from it. I stand up, glancing at the dress laying the bed. Next to it is a mask, matte black with silver vines winding over it. A white feather is attached to the side and silver ribbons hang from it. It's beautiful, but I've learned in this game that beauty is rarely a good thing.