Burning Rivalry (Trevor's Harem #2) (16 page)

But Caspian’s a different story. He came from wealth, and it twisted him like a bad strand of wire. The public loves him. But there’s no question that he’s a son of a bitch.

Trevor and I are thirty minutes in, and there was little warm-up. We both went in hard, and we’re each about at our limits. I don’t know what’s in the air today, but I need this. I need the outlet. I need to beat myself, to come up crawling. My hair is a wet mess; there’s enough sweat rolling down my chest to leave puddles against the nylon line of my shorts. My shoulders hurt from holding my gloves up. We normally go in rounds, but neither of us has wanted to stop.
 

“I want Caspian White off my back, Trevor,” I tell him.
 

We dance in circles, on our toes. Trevor feints with his right and jabs with his left. I weave, avoiding him easily.
 

“He’s your problem,” Trevor tells me.
 

“He’s the company’s problem.”
 

“If you don’t want him involved, just say so. Don’t be a bitch.”
 

I swing. I hit Trevor in the glove, but the glove is beside his head and he rings up a little. And that’s another thing. We should be wearing headgear, but for some reason neither of us picked it up today.
 

“Don’t like being called a bitch?” Trevor says.
 

“I don’t want him involved. But he comes with GameStorming.”
 

“Fuck GameStorming.”
 

“Alexa wants their data.”
 

“Fuck Alexa, too,” Trevor says.
 

I’ve considered it. On paper, no pun intended, Alexa is only a writer, and has almost no official power. Yet both of us know the true story, and it seems like everyone does what she says. Partly because she’s tough and forceful. But mostly, it’s that an intelligent person can see her vision, and wants it to bear fruit, no matter what must be crushed in pursuit of making it happen.
 

“Admit it, Daniel. You care about the company.”
 

“I appreciate ambition.”
 

“So accept it. We get his data, we make money. But the data comes with GameStorming. And GameStorming comes with Caspian.”
 

“It’s not just GameStorming. You know as well as I do that he’s backwashing from LifeLyfe.”
 

“I don’t know that at all,” Trevor says, grinning. “Because that would be illegal.”
 

We’re both exhausted. It’s the end of a long day, just three days from elimination. The girls all have their claws out. Soon, we’ll start seeing blood. Managing the contest and all the little competitions and
dates
is hard enough, but there’s more. With Bridget going cold, it’s like I’m corked. I hate to reduce her to a fuck toy, seeing as that was my attitude when she came here. But I miss her. I miss fucking her, too. I don’t know what changed. But the videos have stopped. And so has the banter. Because she says nothing, I need someone to punish.
 

Me first.

But Trevor will do, too.
 

“That’s another thing,” I tell him as he pokes at my abdomen, making me wince. “If anyone knows he’s coming here … ”
 

“That’s why he’s flying private. Coming in through the far entrance.”
 

“He wants to observe them, Trevor.”
 

“He just wants the data. He wants to see what he can learn from the ant farm.”
 

“But you know how he is. He’s twisted. Fucked up. I don’t like or trust him.”
 

I’m projecting, but I’m pretty sure my assessment is correct. Caspian is one of those odd people for whom everything is sexual, and yet he’s never out of a suit, never a hair out of place. It’s like he can fuck a girl from across a room, using only commands and judgmental stares. I’ve never liked or trusted him. I don’t want him around the girls. None of them.
 

“So cancel his visit,” Trevor says.
 

He’s distracted. He leaves me an opening, and I hit him hard enough in the kidney to leave him reeling against the ropes.
 

“Take it easy, shit,” he coughs.
 

But I don’t feel like taking it easy. I’m on my toes. Circling. Beat, yes. But wanting the pain, and to cause agony. Bridget’s done a number on me. I don’t like admitting defeat. I always fight through it, until I win. But so far, this time, I’m at an impasse.
 

“You know we can’t cancel.”
 

“Then let him come, what the fuck do you want from me?” Trevor seems agitated. Probably because this is supposed to be exercise, and I’m making it personal.
 

He swings into my kidney, which I see coming a mile off. I’m dodging when a big red glove comes at my face out of nowhere, and all of a sudden my head is spinning.
 

I shake it off. I had that coming.
 

“They can’t know.”
 

“Of course they can’t know,” Trevor says.
 

“There are some in our dirty dozen who, if they knew, would be able to — ”
 

“I said I agree. They can’t know he’s here. We meet. He looks from the gallery, reviews the tapes, sees the control room, whatever. But then he leaves. Believe me, I don’t like it either.”
 

Circling. Eyes hard. My mind keeps turning to Bridget and whatever has changed. How things were going until they suddenly stopped, the most justifiable excuse as the only reason: “It’s against the rules.” I guess she wants the money more than me. And I want to murder the world.
 

“If they knew, Trevor. If any of the girls knew Caspian Fucking White was doing this deal with GameStorming … ”
 

“I get it. I’m not a fucking idiot.”
 

He says it with such finality, his bitchy little way telling me to drop it. My jaw sets. He’s saying something we both agree on, but I still hate his tone. I don’t know why I’m so angry. Every answer irks me.
 

Sweat trickles down my back. Sweat runs from my bare shoulders and down my arms, dripping from my elbows.
 

“Three days,” he says.
 

“Must be nice. Deciding who goes and who stays.”
 

“What’s with the tone, Daniel? You helped design this. It’s for you as much as anyone.”
 

I don’t have a good answer. But I still feel like everything is too tense. Put a steel plate in front of me right now, and I’m sure I can stare a hole right through it.
 

“I assume you have everything you need to make your decision,” he says.
 

“It’s not up to me.”
 

“It’s
partially
up to you.”
 

We circle. The room is silent, except for the tapping of our feet in the ring.
 

“I guess I have what
I
need,” Trevor says.
 

He smiles — a shit-eating, devilish little cunt of a smile.

And I swing harder than I thought I had in me, striking Trevor in the side of his head, knocking him flat.
 

“Jesus Fucking Christ,
Daniel! What’s the matter with you?”
 

I don’t answer. I tap my gloves.
 

“Maybe we should call it a day,” Trevor says.

“Maybe.”
 

Trevor gets up, taps his own gloves. And resumes circling. He throws a few fast punches in a flurry. Some connect; others don’t. I welcome even those that deliver pain.
 

“So,” I say. “Who?”
 

“I don’t make the final decisions.”
 

“Who
would
you choose?”

Trevor smiles again. It’s as if he’s forgotten that last punch.
 

“Blair.”
 

“I like Blair.”
 

“Kat.”
 

“She seems like a bitch. She’s been acting like a bitch to a lot of the others.”
 

“Not all of the others,” Trevor says.

We pace a circle. Trevor sniffs. Uses his arm to wipe sweat from his forehead.
 

“Ruby,” he says.
 

“The redhead?”
 

“You don’t approve?”
 

“On profile alone, I approve.”
 

“Maybe Roxy?”
 

“Why Roxy?”
 

“She’s hot.”
 

“She’s more fucked up than anyone here,” I say. “And she has that gap between her teeth.”
 

“You’re so shallow.”
 

“Does she give good head?” I ask.
 

“They all do.”
 

“Jessica?”
 

“She also gives good head. And she’s bi.”
 

The way he’s answering, I’m not sure he’s taking my sarcasm as serious. “This isn’t just about waxing your pole, Trevor.”

“No. But waxing my pole definitely matters.”
 

He’s digging at me. He can tell I’m pissed, and it’s making him angry.

“So you sample them all. Dip your wick wherever you can.”
 

“It’s why they’re here, Daniel. I wouldn’t advance anyone who didn’t meet certain minimum criteria.”
 

We circle. I feel the blood pulsing through my neck.
 

“Who else?”
 

Trevor looks right at me and says, “Bridget.”
 

This time, I hit him so hard, he strikes the ropes and rebounds. It’s like a pinball coming back out, so I hit him again in the face, then the side. He buckles and falls to his knees. I reach out to help him up, but he comes up swinging and racks me hard with an uppercut. I blink down. He spits, and there’s blood.
 

“You’re compromised,” he says.

“Bullshit.”
 

“Then what’s wrong with you?”
 

“You dropped your guard.”
 

“I’m not the only one.”
 

“What the fuck does that mean?”
 

There’s a moment of relative quiet. “I don’t blame you,” he says. “I’d fuck her, too.”
 

I swing. Trevor ducks. He hits me in the stomach at exactly the wrong moment, and I crumple. He’s coming forward when I tackle him, our fight gone to the ground. We grapple that way for a while, but then I gain my leverage and toss him away. I could crawl over and keep hitting him, but this has gone on long enough.
 

So I stand, and use my teeth to pull off my gloves.

“Are we finished?” Trevor asks from the deck.

“We’ve
been
finished,” I say.
 

I grab my towel and leave him.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

The list of people who seem to have a problem with me: Kylie, obviously. Ivy. Kat. Roxy. Maybe Abbie, I can’t tell. I’ve seen her around Ivy a lot in the last few days, and so I’m sure she’s heard Kylie’s version of who I am: a cheater, a conniver, and an absolute whore. At least everyone else here can say they’re simply partaking of what amuses and pleases them, whereas I’m being painted as looking for leverage to win. Fucking in private rather than out in the open, which for some reason is a bad thing in this place. Getting at Daniel to swing the vote, so I can make a bunch of money.
 

I want to tell Abbie that I don’t want to win. If anything, I want Jessica to grab the gold. There were times when she and I entertained the idea of me going as far as possible, past that first elimination, back when I might be able to do that without compromised morals and/or severe psychological damage. I’d stick around, so would Jessica and Erin. The three amigas, trying to go as far as we could. If it came down to me versus Jessica, I’d throw the contest and let her win, still walking away with enough money to solve any problem.

But I can’t do that.
 

In the past week or so, my social standing has taken a nosedive. I usually don’t care if people like me, but in this mansion and this close-knit group, disapproval is toxic. I can’t avoid Kylie, or confront her. I can’t stay away from Ivy’s judgment or that odd look Kat has given me since the day I called her Boris. I’m forced to interact with all of them again and again. They’ve settled into a rhythm, making the rounds and riding the guys. I’ve done none of it. And yet Trevor keeps coming to me, wanting to talk. I find him cute, despite what I know. Maybe he just wants to fuck me — the one girl he hasn’t had.