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“And my job as your Advocate is to help you do that. Is it impossible to imagine that I might see something in you? See you as a victor? Someoneworthyof winning the money on the line?”
I hesitate to answer, pulling away from him, but he tilts my face back up to his. “Answer me, Eve.”
“No,” I say, my core clenching at his words, histouch, the possessive way he looks at me. “It’s not hard to imagine.”
“That’s what I thought. Now, I have to go for now.” He removes his fingers from inside me, and I moan in complaint. He smiles as he says, “But rest.Relax. Enjoy the amenities. We’ll continue this game of getting to know each other later at the gala. For now, I have business to attend to.”
“What business?”
Laurence stills, apprehension in his voice as he says, “I made a deal with Terrence Marlowe to allow you to stay in the games.”
“Does everyone bargain here?”
Laurence smiles a crooked smile. “You catch on quick, sweetheart. It’s the game of money. The delights of devils.” He brushes a quick caress across my jaw. “See you soon.” He takes a moment to admire my naked form again. “I look forward to getting to know you more.”
I know the words hold a loaded meaning as he walks out the door, and I’m left wet and aching once again for a man I barely know.
Before returning to the bed, I pick up the book and bury myself in the cool, plush covers. Opening the pages, I peruse the margins by the bare hint of light that filters in through the blinds. The gentle hum of the air conditioning lulls me as I turn the pages, flipping through where I left off, searching for more notes. In the back of the book, tucked deep in the margins nearest the binding, is a note I had yet to come across. Faded with time, I feared even a touch of my finger would wipe it away.
If they grow bored, you lose. Always do what they least expect.
I bite down on my lip, thinking of Laurence, of the game we just played this morning. How he edged me rather than giving the audience what they wanted. He knew something I didn’t. As a Gamemaker, he knows more about the innerworkings of the games than I ever could.
It’s evidence that tells me I can trust him, because he’s using what he knows to help me win. Despite my hesitance to trust him, I can’t deny the pull that continues to grow between us. It’s becoming impossible to ignore.
I close the book and set it next to my pillow, pulling the comforter around my naked body as I sink into my Advocate’s bed, thinking of crops and rope and an Advocate looking out for me, of Laurence’s mystery.
But that only begs the question of where he went, and his secretiveness about it, along with the mystery of the games.
I think of Lucy surrounded by security guards, and Laurence’s words. “It’s just part of the process.”And yet, despite my newfound desire to trust Laurence and his ability to help me win, I know he’s hiding something. It has something to do with where he took off to.
Suddenly unable to sleep, I rise from the bed and move to the closet to find a shirt and pull it on. I opt for one of Laurence’s.
Facing his room, I hope to uncover some of my Advocate’s secrets in return for how he’s unraveled my own.
Chapter Eleven: Laurence
The Processing Center
Lucy sits across from me in one of the secluded rooms of the processing center tucked away in the dense jungle hills of Caelum Island. The rooms are designed to feel unthreatening, more comforting with the soft glow of light and a wooden table. It gives the appearance that we’re having a business meeting rather than an interrogation—even though that’s more like what this is. The exchange is meant to feel professional, to ease their nerves, only to beat the disqualified Players into submission.
She sits with her hands in her lap, wearing the generic set of matching clothes that we give all expired Players in the center, watching me intently. She’s calmer than I would have expected.
Despite my knowledge of the inner workings of what goes on here, this is my first time getting a first-hand glimpse into the processing that takes place after disqualification. I was aware of how things worked as Gamemaker, but this was a look into a process that has been going on for fifty years, back since Terrence was an Advocate.
Two security guards stand outside the door.
I fold my hands on the table. Before I can start, Lucy beats me to it.
“Why am I here?”
If she’s nervous, she won’t let me see it, but I can tell by her dubious expression that there is unease lurking beneath the surface of her composure.
I’ve been told to relieve her of any unease. “This is where Players go upon disqualification. Don’t worry, you’ll be taken care of,” I assure her, another line I’ve told to spoon feed the expired Players.
She gives me a skeptical look.
“Five,” I begin, but I’m interrupted.
