Burning Offer (Trevor's Harem #1) (21 page)

I open it and read.

My fist clenches, crumpling the creamy stationery into a messy wad.
 

And then I’m out the door with my backpack over one shoulder, seeing crimson. Readier than ever to get the fuck out of here, and looking for something heavy along the way to use as a weapon.
 

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

“Where is Daniel?”
 

The tall, thin girl — Blair, I think — shakes her head. She doesn’t ask me if she fed cat — something I’ll probably be hearing in my head forever.
 

“Daniel,”
I demand.
 

She shakes her head again. She’s holding a bagel. I push down a strange urge to ask if she got it off the dick of some guy and instead do my ethnocentric best to be an asshole American in the face of this gorgeous foreigner.
 

“Do you speak English?”
 

“Of course,” she says. She’s not mad or even offended. Just shocked at the way I stormed in here, my hair practically on fire.
 

“What about you, Boris? You seen Daniel?” I say to Kat.
 

“What the fuck is your problem?” The W comes out like a V. Her Os come out like there’s a W after them, round and fat. Kat, unlike Blair, sounds pissed. I’m not surprised. I’m kind of being a raging bitch. And it’s not like I have a problem with Russians. I’m just looking for someone to punch. And then I see her.
 

I try lunging past Kat to get at Kylie, but Kat catches me. She must weigh ninety pounds and I’ve just insulted her, but I’ve gotta hand it to the girl. She’s strong for such a tiny thing, and right now she’s saving me from myself.
 

Kylie waves and smiles. It’s a half wave, made by opening and closing her hand. Or really, just flapping her last three fingers at me. The index finger and thumb are holding a piece of toast with a bite already gone. Doesn’t Miss Cunt know that carbs will make her ass fat? Bitch.

“You,” I say to Kylie, still fighting Kat. “Come over here. We need to talk about something.”
 

She’s chewing her toast. Her lipstick is perfect. Her silver nose stud is perfect. She’s wearing a simple tee like I am, but she wears it better. I swear, I can see the outlines of her areolae. Her nipples make tiny tents. The boys will love that.
 

“Sleep well?” Kylie asks. “Like a little girl safe in her mother’s arms?” She makes an
oops
face. “Wait. Sorry. I forgot.” And she smiles again. Bitch doesn’t have a mark on her face. Not one little discoloration or scratch. I want to fix that. If I’m in trouble for fighting, I’ll make it one for the books.
 

Kat is stupidly strong. Unlike the rest of us, she’s dressed to the nines. Her hair is up, and she’s wearing a fucking fur stole of some sort. I’m tempted to compare it to a Cossack hat, but Kat isn’t my enemy here. I try to lunge away, but she holds me. I strike a platter and send smoked salmon crashing to the floor. Glasses rattle. The few contestants who haven’t noticed my arrival finally turn and watch me make a spectacle of myself.

“Relax!”
Kat demands. Then she thumps me hard on the chest with the bottom of her tiny fist, punching me right in the boob. “What is wrong?”
 

“Do you know her? That fucking bitch right there?” I point as everyone stares at me, not my target. “Do you want to say goodbye before I kick her fucking ovaries out?”
 

There’s a rush of activity at the room’s far end. Tony enters, his eyes darting everywhere. Either he’s been manning the cameras, or he heard the platter hit the floor and came running.
 

“What’s going on here?” he demands.
 

I stare at Tony. I stare at Kylie. And back to Tony.
 

“Where is Daniel?”

“Daniel isn’t available,” Tony says.
 

“Make
him available.”
 

“I said he’s not available. Now would someone like to tell me what’s going on here?” He looks around. A few of the girls up front seem ready to tell Tony what they know — that the prude just burst into the room and started shouting — but their eyes flick toward me and they hold their silence.
 

“Bridget?” Tony asks.
 

“She hit me,” Kylie says.
 

“What? When? Now?” He sounds like the goddamned Riddler. I lunge again and rebound off the buffet table, but the bounce gives Kat enough time to step in front of me again, to fix me with a stare that says I’d be stupid to dig myself deeper and I damn well know it.
 

“Bridget!”

“Nobody hit anyone,” Jessica says from near a small juice table. Her voice carries just the right amount of scorn, making it clear who she believes and who’s the asshole. I want to hug her.
 

“Last night,” Kylie says. “In the big main room upstairs.”
 

“Bridget?” Tony says.
 

The paper’s still clenched in my fist. I can feel my nails digging into my palm through it, and my nails are short. I’m so fucking angry, I can barely think. My vision blurs. But I won’t cry. Not here. Not now.
 

Kat sees the paper as if for the first time. She pulls it from my hand, giving me a look like she’s asking permission. My fingers unclench, and she reads it. When she’s done, she says to Tony, “Where
is
Daniel?”
 

Instead of answering, Tony comes forward. He takes the note and silently reads it. He looks up at me, and I see something so much worse than the anger from a moment before:
sympathy.
 

“Is this true, Bridget?”

Beside Kylie, the Mediterranean girl, Ivy, says, “I saw the footage.”
 

“What footage?”
 

“From the camera in there. We looked last night, after Kylie came back with her face slapped, when we went to talk to Trevor.”
 

I glare at Ivy. Guess who just made my enemies list?

“You
tattled?”
 

Kylie says, “I thought she might come at me again, Tony. Try to hurt me. Make a scene to ruin the party.”
 

I step toward her, but this time Tony stops me. He puts his hand on my shoulder, but that’s all it takes. His touch is soft but clear.
 

Logan appears in the hallway. Tony looks back and says, “Get Trevor.”
 

“Trevor’s gone.”
 

“What do you mean he’s
gone?”
 

“Had a meeting. He told me last night. We hold the fort, no big deal.” Logan looks at the scene, sensing something amiss. “Something wrong?”
 

Tony turns to me and holds up the paper. “Where did you get this?”
 

“It was slipped under my door a few minutes ago.”
 

“Logan, who hands out these envelopes?”
 

“Daniel or Sammy. But Sammy’s in the garden. So I guess Daniel.”
 

“Daniel’s out.”
 

“I’m sure he’s in his office. Did you check his office?”
 

My jaw hardens.
Daniel’s office.
I know where that is; I’ve seen him duck in and out. It’s one door down from me. It was closed when I went by just now. And the hallway was empty. At first, that didn’t register, but now that I’m thinking, it very much does. I left the room seconds after that envelope came in, and the upstairs hallways are long. The person who slipped it under my door should have still been in sight. Unless, of course, he slipped inside his office like a coward.
 

In my head, I hear Daniel telling me how I’m a wrong fit. How he made a mistake. How if he could, he’d reverse that mistake and kick me out. But I get the impression that if he did that, he’d have to admit to having done something stupid. I can already tell there’s some rivalry between Trevor and Daniel, between the billionaire playboy and his right-hand man. And if I was an error, Daniel might pay. Unless I got myself kicked out. If I somehow blew this for myself, Daniel wouldn’t
have
to do anything. And still, problem solved.
 

“I just want my check,” I say, fighting back furious tears. I can feel every eye in the room. Jessica seems to be on my side, and I get a hard but fair vibe from Kat. But everyone else, judging by the looks, seems to think I’m crazy, dangerous, and no fun at all. “Just give me my check, and let me leave.”
 

Tony is slowly shaking his head. Looking at the paper. Then at Logan.
 

“I’m sorry, Bridget, but I don’t think you have one coming.”
 

He hands me the paper. Touches the sentence I’ve read five times already yet refuse to accept:
Forfeiture of Day One disbursement and first-night bonus
.
 

“I want to talk to Daniel.”
 

This can’t be how it ends. This can’t be it.
 

Tony looks at Logan. Logan looks at Tony.
 

“Page him,” Tony says.
 

Logan walks to a panel on the wall and touches something.
 

“He’s not in his office, Tony.”
 

“It’s on his goddamned wrist, Logan. Keep paging.”
 

We wait. Seconds drag by. The reality of what I’m facing has filtered through the room, and now the looks are all pitying. I’m not just out. I’ll leave with the clothes on my back and the bag in my hand, with only yesterday’s money to show for it all.
 

“I stayed, Tony. I stayed overnight.”
 

“You heard Trevor. There’s no fighting. No harming other contestants.”
 

My face breaks. I can feel Kylie watching me, smiling. But I can’t help it, or the hitch in my voice.
 

“Please.”
 

“There’s nothing I can do, Bridget.”
 

“It says here that she’s DQ’d,” Logan says from the panel. “What does that paper say?”
 

“DQ and forfeit of Day One and the bonus.”
 

“Twenty grand,” says Logan. It’s just a statement, but I can almost hear the whistle of disbelief, as if to say,
Boy howdy did you fuck up, girl.
 

“Daniel’s in his office,” I say. “Let me talk to him.”
 

But I know he won’t answer. He slipped that envelope under my door after his boss told him to then ran off and hid like a coward. I know he doesn’t like me. He told me I’m a mistake that can’t be fixed … unless, of course, I fix everything for him. He’s glad for this. He doesn’t have the guts to face me and say it himself, but I’m sure that he’s glad.

“Tony, it says we’re … ” He trails off then regroups. “It says we’re supposed to escort her off the premises. There’s a driver out front.”
 

“Where does it say that?”
 

“In the note.” Logan touches the screen.
 

“From Trevor.”
 

And I think,
Or Trevor’s office, like, from his right-hand man
.
 

Tony sighs. His eyes ask me if I’ll go quietly or if I’ll need to be carried, but that he’ll oblige either way. “I’m sorry,” is all he says.
 

“I need the money. Please, Tony
. I need it.”
 

My mother.
 

The doctor.
 

The syndicate, or whatever the hell my fuck of a father heads down in Miami.
 

“I don’t make the rules,” Tony says.
 

I don’t look up. Tony gestures back the way I came, and I lead the way.
 

I don’t have the strength to be angry.
 

I don’t have the strength to feel betrayed.
 

I don’t even have the strength to feel terrible for what’s about to happen, for what Jenny will say when I tell her the rest of the money won’t be coming.

I plod off. The silence behind me is a physical thing.
 

I hear Kylie as I go.
 

She says, “Not as smart as you think, I guess.”
 

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

I watch my shoes. My stupid, ordinary, everyday-girl Converses that I put back on with the tee from the drawer.
I went to a billionaire’s sex ranch, and all I got was this stupid T-shirt.
Not even those beautiful heels they left for me last night, or the earrings, or the dress.
 

I don’t precisely see the limo pull away from the mansion’s driveway. It’s more that I
feel
it. I’ll feel it for a while more, and then I’ll feel the driver’s hand as he leads me out and up the steps of a jet. I’ll feel it taking off then landing. I won’t notice where I am or the last of my luxury. I’ll only see Jenny’s face. My mother’s face. And my son-of-a-bitch father’s face, as he keeps doing exactly what he’s always done.