I step into the kitchen wearing the blouse and pencil skirt that Tobias instructed me to wear. No bra of course. Tobias and Preston both glance up at me, their gazes hungry and dark as they drag over my body.

"Now, Tobias, why don't our secretaries look that good?" Preston smirks.

A wry smile pulls at Tobias' lips before his gaze slowly drifts from me to the paper in front of him. "You'd never get any work done."

Preston holds a cup of coffee out to me. His pale gray shirt is unbuttoned at the collar and his blond hair is pulled up in his usual messy bun. I'd say he was the light to Tobias' dark, but that would be a lie because everything about Preston is a lie. His beautiful face, his smile that leads you into such a false sense of security… At least Tobias looks dark and dangerous. Preston is the wolf in a Versace model’s clothing, and yet, I trust him. Yesterday when I cried, he held me, he put me back together. And then, when I felt as if there was nothing I could do, when I felt helpless, they put a gun in my hand. They made me a killer. I gave that young boy justice. I slaughtered a killer, and surely that's right? They knew what I needed more than I did. I just needed to let go. I needed to see that in the darkest of acts, there is light. I was right. I was just.

I take the cup of coffee from Preston. Tobias normally leaves the kitchen after a few moments, as though he's above such trivial routines, but today he stays. And so, instead of sitting with Preston, I take the seat next to Tobias. Preston leans against the counter across from me, a knowing smile pulling at his lips. Clearing his throat, he rounds the breakfast island and brushes his hand over my waist.

"Ah, how I will miss our morning coffee, sweet Ella." He kisses the side of my neck and I swallow hard. I look up and my gaze crashes into Tobias'. What does he mean by that? Are they leaving me? Did I lose? I thought that night on the bridge we made a deal, jump or stay with them forever. I want them forever. It may be stupid and twisted and wrong, but if I stay with them then none of that matters because this world, their world, is one in which the normal, the sane, the inferior....they do not apply. He said I'm his little lamb, but what if that's all part of the game?

Preston leaves the room and Tobias reaches out, pressing a finger beneath my chin. "Always so many questions," he says, narrowing his eyes.

"I..."

"I can see them in your eyes, little lamb. After all, the eyes are the windows to the soul." He drags his thumb over my bottom lip, silencing me before he leans in close and kisses along my jaw. "And I will miss you, too..." He pushes up from the stool as a panic works over me. They're going to abandon me. How foolish of me to believe this could be anything other than a game. "Come now, little lamb,” he says. We have work to do."

Day six. Who will they have me kill now? After all, isn't that the game. A nasty game of Russian Roulette where I am the loaded gun?

---

The entire ride to Tobias' offices, I'm thrumming with anxiety. I thought they wanted me, but what if this right here, my wanting them, what if that is the game? And I have done things, things that without them might seem awful and unforgivable. We're let out to the side of the building, and unlike the other times I've come here, we don't go in through the front, but instead we use a side entrance.

By the time they lead me into their office, I feel sick.

"Take a seat," Tobias says.

Preston walks to a desk, grabs a large stack of files, and brings them to me, plopping them down on my lap. "Pick one." He smiles before giving Tobias a knowing glance.

I thumb through the stack. On each tab is a woman's name. I open the first one: Melissa Thompson. Inside is a photo. A resume. And notes. Notes on what she likes. Where she eats. And circled in red ink the words: Family is dead. All alone. No job. No prospects.

I swallow heavily, allowing my fingers to linger on the clean, white paper. Are these my replacements?

"Pick one," Tobias repeats impatiently. I hand Melissa's file to him, and I can't help it, I imagine what she will look like with her dark hair fisted in Tobias' hand, her lips parting as Preston makes her come. I swallow back the acidic bite of jealousy working its way up my throat. So, this is it then? I'm a toy to them, nothing more than amusement, and everything they say is a cheap lie.

"You didn't even look at the rest." A displeased frown sets on Tobias' full lips.

"You told me to pick.” I stand up, folding my arms over my chest. “I picked."

Tobias cocks a sharp brow and shoves the file in my direction. "Pick. Look through each file and pick the woman you think is better than you."

My temper spikes in reaction to his cruelty. I'm hurt and I'm angry. He's done awful things to me, but this feels like the worst.

"They will all be better than me," I say through gritted teeth. They will, because they won't fall into this trap the way I have. They may play, they may win or lose, but they will not give their hearts to monsters, because who would do that? Only a truly lonely, desperate girl. Only me.

Preston shakes his head and shoves his hands in his pockets, walking to stand beside Tobias with a sigh.

"Wrong answer, little lamb." Tobias stares at me, his nostrils flaring. "Have we taught you nothing?"

Preston places his hand on Tobias shoulder and whispers something in his ear. Tobias closes his eyes and tilts his head back. I watch his Adam's apple move as he swallows. When he drops his head again, his eyes flash open and he inhales. "Pick one, Ella."

I angrily flip through several files until I find a blonde who looks like a cheerleader. "She looks nice. Gullible...stupid. It's always the cheerleader types who take it in the ass."

Preston stifles a laugh, and Tobias yanks the file from my hand and throws it to the side of the room. "Another one."

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 6^th, 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 do 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.