PleasureGames: A Games Novella (5 page)

The breakfast room itself consisted of a long, ornate wooden table - like the kind you see in historical movies, with high backed chairs around it. The room itself was nothing but windows, looking out onto the waves of the ocean and the island beach. As we walked into the room, I could see a few women already seated, oddly spaced apart. The production assistant led us to the end of the table. "Assigned seating," he told us. "Please don't change from your designated spot."

We sat down, and I noticed my plate was white and Leona's was peach. Down the table, I could see the plates of the other women that had been chosen. Canary yellow viper Kimberly was at the far end on the other side of the table. I was at the very end of this side, and I looked curiously at the seats. Between each designated contestant spot, there was an empty chair, along with an empty chair at the very end of the table on both sides.

"What are all the empty chairs for?" I asked, picking up my napkin and putting it in my lap.

"It's so our bachelor can decide who he wants to sit next to," the assistant called out. He pointed at a tiny bell next to our plates. "If you need something, ring that. Don't leave the table unless directed by production."

Jeez. This sounded less like breakfast and more like prison.

A waiter came around. "Coffee, orange juice or mimosas?"

Prison just got a lot better. "Mimosas, please."

Leona reached over and thwapped the back of my hand with her spoon. "Should you be drinking this early? Especially after last night's titty fiasco?"

"You're right," I told her, and looked up at the waiter. "I'm going to need two mimosas so I can get good and plastered before the billionaire bachelor gets here."

"Juno!" Leona gave me an exasperated look. "We'll have two coffees."

"As well as the mimosas," I insisted. I was not getting through this morning without some alcohol in my system, and that was final.

Leona just threw up her hands.

As we sipped our breakfast drinks (Leona with coffee, me with a rather strong mimosa), the chairs began to slowly fill up. The other women entered, and we were all dressed in similar outfits, the only thing truly setting us apart was a bit of tailoring for the overly-busty and the colors of our dresses. I did feel bad for someone that came in with a crusty-looking beehive of hair. She must have gotten my stylist from yesterday. Eventually, all the contestant seats were filled. No breakfast had been served yet; I had a hunch we were waiting for the 'star' of the show to arrive.

Which just made me drink more.

The double doors opened and all conversation stopped. I cringed against my glass, determined not to look over at Heathcliff as he entered.

"Hello, ladies," he said in that sultry, sex-on-a-stick voice of his. "Glad to see you all this morning."

A chorus of female titters arose from the table. Barf. Barf twice.

"I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long," he continued. I kept right on focusing on my drink.

"We're just thrilled to see you," one woman chimed in. "Please, have a seat!"

Smooth. Real smooth.

"Not yet," Heathcliff said, buttery voice rolling through the room. "I'd like to say hello to everyone this morning before choosing a seat."

Whatever. I snorted and focused on looking at the beach outside. It was gorgeous, the sun shining and the waves lapping at the empty shore. There was no one down on that white sand, which seemed criminal to me. I wondered if we'd ever get a chance to visit the waters if we couldn't even get up to use the bathroom. It seemed like a shame to have us on a private island and then not let us go and spend some time on the beach.

Lost in my musing, I didn't notice that Heathcliff had approached until a shadow fell over me. "Good morning...," he said, then made a big show of looking at my name badge. "...Juno."

Oh please. "Hi."

"Feeling better this morning?"

"I was feeling fine yesterday, thanks."

"You did seem like you were...loosening up."

I glared up at him. "Is that a boob joke?"

"Of course not," he said, but he still had that devastating little smile on his face. And as I glared up at him, I realized it was a mistake to give him my attention, because now I was noticing how good he looked. His black hair was slightly tousled this morning like he'd rolled out of bed and come straight to breakfast, which made him look all the more devastating. Pair that with the casual suit he was wearing that set off his broad shoulders and slim waist perfectly and he looked like a cross between a dream and my own worst nightmare. Sigh.

He leaned over the table. "Still mad at me, Juno?"

I tilted my head and looked up at him. Was I mad? I honestly had no idea. I simmered with resentment when he wasn't here, but in his presence it was difficult to maintain that anger. I don't know if it was because he was so pretty or if it was the alcohol. Or maybe I was just weak. "I don't think I'm mad," I said truthfully. "Cautious, yes, mad, no."

"Cautious?" He arched that sinful eyebrow. "That's a new one for you, I believe."

"Okay, now I'm getting mad," I said sweetly.

He chuckled, and the sound rippled over me like silk. Damn the man for being perfection in every single way.

"Oh, Heathcliff," a woman called at the far end of the table. "Come here! I want to show you something!"

"You'd better go," I murmured. "The natives are getting restless."

"The natives can wait."

Clearly he didn't know these women very well. "Trust me, I think it's in everyone's best interest if you go before they try to one-up me and start wandering topless."

He threw back his head and laughed. "Very well. Save me a seat."

"We'll see," I said coolly and returned to sipping my mimosa. Still chuckling, he headed for the far end of the room.

A foot kicked me under the table. Leona gave me a pointed look, grinning.

I ignored it.

A waiter came around and handed out menus so we could order. I'd barely put in my request for scrambled eggs when the empty seat next to me was pulled out, and Heathcliff sat down. I did my best to show no outward emotion, but that wasn't my strong suit. Especially when he leaned over my shoulder. "So...what looks good?"

"Privacy," I told him. "Privacy looks real good."

He simply grinned at me and picked up his napkin from the table, placing it in his lap with a flourish. "Why, Juno, I would think you're not happy to see me again."

"Now why would you think that?" I asked mildly. I lifted my drink and dared a peek at the rest of the table. Everyone was staring, Leona included. Granted, Leona's expression was more along the lines of "when will these two just start making out" and everyone else's expression was more along the lines of "I'm about to cut a bitch for stealing him".

Neither of which was good. Day two and here I was making enemies, when all I really wanted was to get voted out and get my fistfuls of participation cash.

"Well, you're avoiding looking at me, for one," Heathcliff said in a low voice. "Is it because I've changed in the last eight years?"

I looked over at him thoughtfully. He'd changed a little. Who didn't change in eight years? His hair was different, and his face was more mature, his body filled out, but other than that, he was the same Heathcliff I'd lusted after in my college days. Me, on the other hand, I felt like I was the one who was different. I was leaner than I was in college, more tanned and more muscular, all from my work in my outdoor hot shop. I no longer fussed with hair and makeup so it felt odd to wear it on the show.

And most of all, my soul just felt a lot older.

"You haven't changed much," I admitted.

"Then why won't you look at me?"

"Because I've changed?" I glanced over at him, then took a look around the table. Sure enough, they were all still staring, trying to overhear our whispered conversation. My buddy Leona had an eager look on her face as if she was watching soap operas. Sigh. I moved closer to Heathcliff so I could speak in a lower voice, and tried to ignore the warmth radiating off of him and his familiar aftershave. "Here's the thing, Heathcliff. I feel like this you and me thing? Us being accidentally brought together again? It's nothing but bad luck."

"Oh, Juno," he said in that low, husky, silky voice. "Who said anything about luck being involved?"

"
A
t some point
she's going to realize the truth of this show. When she does, I'm not sure if she'll be pleased...or pissed. Right now, I'm leaning towards pissed."
-- Heathcliff Forester, the Billionaire Bachelor, Episode 3 Interview

A
fter breakfast
, we were sent back to our rooms with instructions to be at wardrobe and makeup for tonight's Decision Ceremony. It seemed that our breakfast was all the time we'd get with the billionaire bachelor today, which struck me as a bit ridiculous. If we were supposed to be 'dating' him, shouldn't we actually spend time with the guy? Leona seemed disappointed, but I was happy to go back to the room and take my makeup off. I opted for a nap while Leona went down to mingle with the other women. I snuggled under the covers, sleeping off the last of my hangover.

A soft knock at the door woke me up, and I rubbed my eyes, glancing at the alarm clock. Still too early for wardrobe. What was it? I went to the door and opened it, but no one was there. Curious, I looked down and saw an envelope had been slid underneath the door. I picked it up, and saw my name on the front. Inside, there was a folded note.

W
ant to get away
? Come meet me on the beach and we can talk in private. No cameras, I promise. Just take the fire exits in the stairwells instead of going out the main doors, or you'll be followed.

--H

I
considered the note
, shutting the door behind me and leaning against it. Did I want to see Heathcliff? Talk to him? One on one? The small, bitchy part of me wanted to throw the note away and forget he'd ever sent it, but more than that, I felt like we should talk. I needed him to realize where I was mentally and that I wasn't here to meet my dream guy, but to get my dream cash. Maybe once Heathcliff realized that, he'd stop trying to needle me into responding to his teasing.

With that thought in mind, I put on my shoes and headed down the hall. I found a stairwell next to the elevator and pushed the door open. No alarm went off, so I headed down the stairs and out of the building.

The warmth of the summer day hit me like a ton of bricks and I raised my face to the sun, appreciating it. I loved heat. I think that was one reason why I liked working in my hot shop so much. Some people hated sweating, but to me, it signaled creativity. I could take the heat. I could bask in it all day.

Since wardrobe wasn't around, I was dressed in a tank top and jean shorts, both equally ratty. I had no makeup on, and my hair was still in the loose coronet Leona had made for me, but more of it was falling out of the braid than staying in. In short, I looked like a hot mess, but I felt more like myself than ever. If Heathcliff was so fired up to see me, he'd take me as I was. So I strolled out onto the beach and glanced around.

No one was here. Again, I wondered if we were the only ones on the island at the moment. Had the entire thing been rented out for the show? If so, it seemed a waste of good beach. I took off my shoes and went out to the surf, letting the water wash over my ankles. Then, I began to walk down the beach, lost in thought. The waters of Eden were flat out gorgeous. A crystalline blue, they made me itch to return to my furnaces and start new glass projects. Maybe a clear vase with rippling blue color at the bottom to hint at waves. I dug my toes in the white sand and changed my mind. A creamy, pale yellow with some grit and particles to symbolize sand, leading to a delicious clear blue hue. I could even throw in some starfish-shaped bits of metal and work them into the glass. I could shape the handles of the vase like conch shells. I could--

"You know, I wasn't sure if you'd come down or not."

I looked up, startled to see Heathcliff coming toward me. I was so lost in thought I hadn't realized he was here. Brushing a windblown lock of hair off my face, I shrugged. "I figured we could use a good talk."

He nodded, then fell into step next to me, so I kept walking. "You look nice," he said after a moment.

"Really?" My voice was dry with sarcasm. I looked down at my scruffy, bleach-spattered shorts that had holes and tears in the pockets. They were held together by a safety pin. My tank top was a cheap five dollar one I'd found on a clearance rack.

"Yeah," he said, studying me. "You look more like yourself. And I've always thought you were beautiful."

Okay, I didn't know what to say to that. My body flushed with confused pleasure. I looked like hell and he was telling me I looked beautiful? "I...don't feel like myself when they throw all that makeup on me," I admitted. "Or the fancy clothes."

"You look mouth-watering either way."

Well...damn. Hearing he thought I was pretty was one thing. Mouth-watering was another. I squinted up at him. "You sucking up to me, H?"

A broad smile creased his face at his old nickname. I remembered that he hated Heath, and hated Cliff even more. Whenever we'd played around, he'd been "H" and I'd been June-bug.

"I might be buttering you up a bit," he said, tone easy. "Just don't want us to be at odds anymore, that's all."

Huh. I glanced over at him, noting his jacket from this morning was gone, and his slacks were rolled up to his knees, his feet bare. His sleeves were rolled up, too, his collar open, his hair mussed. He looked casual and...Okay, adorable. I still wasn't immune to his charms. If there was a picture of a perfect man, he'd be it. "We're not at odds," I told him. "It's been far too long. What happened between us before, that's just ancient history, you know?"

Even as I said it, I felt funny about it. Like I was lying. Because history though it was, it didn't feel finished. We'd blown up at each other, gone our separate ways, and tried to move on. Except...I hadn't really dated anyone seriously since him. I'd been on dates, sure, but every time, I found myself comparing the other guys to H. Maybe they ate their food wrong, or they didn't kiss quite like him. Maybe the cologne was annoying, or maybe he parted his hair wrong. I always found something to pick apart, and they were always lacking. I'd given up on finding love after Heathcliff. Everyone else just paled in comparison to that one torrid college relationship.

And I wondered how he remembered our time together. I bit my lip and looked over at him again as we walked. "So, why'd you want to meet?"

His cool gray gaze focused on me. "You're probably wondering why you're here."

My brows drew together. "I'm...a contestant?" But his earlier mysterious comment about luck made me wonder what the heck was going on. Was there more going on than he was letting on? "Did you rig this show, H?"

"I never said it wasn't rigged from the get-go."

I gasped. "You're kidding."

"Why would I kid about this? If you'd read your contract carefully you'd know that we have no obligation to any of the contestants. This show's no more reality than any other television show." He looked so cool, so casual as he said it. "So it's rigged? So what?"

I stopped in my tracks, stunned. I couldn't look over at him because I didn't want him to see how his words affected me, so I gazed out at the ocean waves, my brain trying to compile the flurry of thoughts racing through my head into something cohesive. "I don't understand. Why rig the show?" A wave washed over my foot, and a shell landed near my feet. I absently picked it up and brushed the sand off of it, desperate to give my hands something to do...

Because right now I wasn't sure if I wanted to fling my arms around Heathcliff's neck...or just wring his neck.

"I figured I should let you know what my intentions were." His voice was mild - deceptively so. I knew that Heathcliff tended to speak softly when he felt the most passionately.

"Your intentions? I thought this entire thing was to find you a woman. Isn't that how all these shows work? Newsflash, Heathcliff. You may be bad tempered and hard to get along with, but you're still a good looking billionaire. I imagine you could get any woman you wanted."

He laughed again. "I'm going to take that as a compliment and ignore the 'bad tempered' parts."

"But seriously. I don't get it. Why go through all this to get me here?" I gasped as a thought occurred to me. "Oh my God. It's not just me, is it? All the women here...are they all your ex-girlfriends?"

"No," he said, reaching for my hand. He took it in his and I was momentarily stunned by how warm he was. How visceral. He gripped my hand tightly in his and tugged on it until I looked him in the eye.

I shouldn't have. I felt like I was drowning in those stunning gray depths, in the intensity of his gaze.

"This entire show was set up to bring you here," he said, voice intense. "To bring you back to me. It's not about finding me a woman. It's about bringing the right woman back to me. The others are just here to fill slots."

I gaped up at him, stunned. "W-why me?"

He lifted my hand to his mouth and gently pressed his lips to my palm, sending shockwaves through my body. "Because I can't stop thinking about you, and how we parted. And I decided that I'm not satisfied with how things were, and I want you back. And if I have to participate in a dog and pony show to get your attention, I will."

Stunned, I gaped at him. "You're doing all this...for me?" My voice rose at the end.

"Why is that so hard to believe?" He gripped me on the sides of my face and his mouth hovered inches from mine. "Why is it so hard to believe that I can't move past you? That when I try to fuck someone else, I can't see any face but yours?" His gaze moved to my lips, and I thought he was going to kiss me. Thought he was going to put his mouth on mine and claim me as his own again.

And it made me ache with need.

I pulled out of his grip, hating myself for doing so. "So you set up this joke of a television show on this island to get me? How did you know I would come?"

"Because I have spies. I know you're having financial difficulties. You wouldn't ask for help, so I had to make you come to me."

Heathcliff reached for me again, and I pushed him away. "I don't believe you," I said slowly. "You went through this elaborate set-up all to get me back?"

His brows drew down and a stubborn look crossed his face. "You never responded to my letters."

My mouth opened. Closed. I hadn't, he was right. When I was living with Seville in my internship, I spent two years cutting off the outside world, and that included Heathcliff. He'd written me letters after we'd broken up. Thick envelopes full of pages and pages of tortured handwriting. I'd taken one look at them and tossed them into the furnace, because the thought of reading even one hurt too much. It was easier just to amputate the past.

"You changed your phone number," he continued. "I asked to come see you. You ignored me. You pushed me away every time I reached out for you. What was I supposed to do?"

He was making me feel like a jerk. "You haven't even attempted to contact me in the last..." I thought hard. "Four years. Why this big charade now?"

"Because I tried for four years to get your attention, and when that didn't work, I tried other methods, but you ignored all of them. This is the first time I've been able to flush you out of hiding."

"Wait...what other methods?" What was he talking about?

"The glassmaker's conference last year?"

My brows drew together. I'd received an invite, but I hadn't been able to afford the trip. They'd offered to set me up for a scholarship fund to pay my way, but I'd felt weird about asking for money and had ultimately declined. "That was you?"

He gave a sharp nod. "The job offer to relocate you to a faire in New York State? That was me, too."

I stared at him, eyes wide. I'd received an offer out of the blue last year--no wait, two years ago - to relocate. I'd declined because I didn't want to live in the same part of the country as Heathcliff. It would have devastated me to run into him with another woman on his arm, so I stayed in my part of the south and left the north to him. But now that he mentioned it, there were other strange offers that I'd declined, too -- an old college friend that wanted me to go on a cruise with her, all expenses paid. A 'contest' win that kept bugging me to go and spend time at a beach house in Virginia and had called and harassed me for weeks, until I'd blocked the number.

Was all that stupid, crazy shit him? I withdrew my hand from his, made a fist, and punched him in the shoulder. My fist was ineffectual against his muscular arm, and it throbbed on contact, but I felt better for doing it. "Seriously? How about you fucking show up and have a real conversation with me instead of coming up with all these psycho schemes?" I raised my hand to punch him again.

He caught my hand and kissed my knuckles. "Because it's easier than showing up and putting my heart on the line, only to have you step on it all over again. I thought if I could get you out of your comfort zone, maybe you'd let me in long enough to give me a second chance."

I just stared at him, shocked and aghast at the lengths he'd gone to drag me back. Then, I pried my hand out of his, feeling numb. "You know me, H. I'm not into second chances. I'm sorry. There are lots of nice girls here--"