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Laurence stares back at me. Then, the corner of his mouth twitches. He carefully makes his way to the chair across from me and sits down slowly, like a predator not wanting to frighten its prey. “You might be right about that, Blue.”
“Blue?”
“It’s the name the Gamemakers gave you. For your blue eyes.”
“I thought we were only supposed to be referred to as our player numbers, or whatever degrading title our advocates decide to give us.”
“Yes… but I prefer to call you Blue.”
“Iprefer to be called Eve.”
Laurence sits pondering this for a moment. He shifts ever so slightly forward in the seat. “Eve it is. Though, for game purposes, I hope you understand I might refer to you as Ten during the games. Speaking of which… tomorrow is our first game together as player and advocate.”
“You say that as if we were anything else before you decided to claim me.”
He watches me, my words making him breath in slowly, a deep rise and fall of his chest. “We were once Gamemaker and player, I being the one who decided your fate. Now I guide you toward it.”
“And you think my fate is to win?”
“I think your fate is to accomplish victory over the games in any regard, whether that is winning or not. You’ve already made an impact. I hope to see you make more.”
I sit up straighter. “Why did you save me, Laurence?”
Laurence rises from his seat and stands before me. “Stand up,” he commands. I obey. “I saved you,” he strokes the backs of his fingers over my jaw, “because I saw someone worth saving, worth knowing. I don’t think you were built for the games. I think the games were built for you.”
“I don’t understand. It sounds like you’re not looking to win.”
He smiles, and it’s the most heart wrenching thing I’ve ever seen. There’s laughter in his voice as he says, “No, Eve, I’m not after victory. I have enough money.”
“Then why?”
“Because I want you to be mine.”
We search each other’s eyes as I relish the feeling of his words.
“But I want you to win, if that’s what you want,” he adds. “And I will help you do just that.”
“Yes.”
“Then we have some preparations to make.”
He drops his hand from my jaw, and I find myself wishing his touch would return. “Preparations?”
Laurence begins to remove his jacket and drops it onto the chair behind him. He undoes his cufflinks and rolls up his sleeves. “I may not be able to spoil any of the games for you for risk of being accused of cheating, given my prior role, but that doesn’t mean I can’t prepare for themwithyou.”
“You already know the games and how to win them?”
He stills. “I don’t just know them, I wrote them. Now,” he takes my face in his hands, his voice soft yet commanding as he tells me, “go lie down on the bed.”
I move toward the bed and lie down, but perch myself up on my elbows. I can’t deny the excitement that flows through me, that tangles in a mess of anticipatory knots deep within my core. Laurence has intrigued me since I first laid eyes on him at the bidding, and then more so when we got to speak at the gala. That excitement builds now as he approaches me. The intensity of his eyes burns across my body, and I press my thighs together at the ache that forms between them. From this position, his height and stature are even more intimidating—in a sexy way—and I admire his handsomeness; the sharpness of his jaw, his broad shoulders, full, dark hair. Full lips part as he cocks his head to the side.
“Take off your clothes,” he murmurs.
I remove my top and then my shorts without hesitation, exposing me fully to him. I think of Lady Brett again, of being no more than an image to the men. There’s a unique juxtaposition I’m experiencing, like Lady Brett, of wanting to find fulfillment in being independent, but knowing I cannot win these games alone.
“Good.” Laurence steps up to the bed, his height over me domineering as he presses a warm palm to the center of my chest and pushes me flat against the bed. “Now, I’m going to touch you, get to know you. Is that okay?”
“Yes,” I breathe.
