Chapter
Eleven
CHRISSY
At the headof the table, Henry rose. He’d traded his earlier dark suit for something even sharper, the white of his shirt crisp against his tanned skin. No mask. He didn’t need one.
“I’d like to welcome all of you to the Game properly,” he said, voice smooth as the tablecloth. “My name is Henry. I’ll be the Master of Ceremonies for your stay at the Old Stonewood Hunting Lodge.”
So, that seemed to confirm the answer to one question. He wasn’t a butler or a manager. He was purely the ringmaster for this insane circus otherwise known as the Game, as he’d named himself in the foyer earlier, as well as now.
His gaze swept the table, unhurried. When it passed over me, my lungs constricted, not because he looked cruel — he didn’t — but because there was nothing soft in his eyes, either. There was only assessment. It seemed to say:
Are you good enough to win this, or are you going to be the first to get eliminated?
“As you’re all aware,” he continued, “you’ve been invited here to participate in a very particular experience. One real Ben Stonewood hides in plain sight among the men gathered here. Nine potential brides must compete with one another in the planned challenges over the next ten days. At the end of your stay, Mr. Stonewood will have the opportunity to extend an offer of marriage to one of you, should any of you manage to pass his tests, including identifying which one of these men is the real Ben Stonewood. That lucky lady, whoever she may be, will find herself married to a billionaire before Christmas Eve is over, as well as in possession of a very large sum of money, personally.”
Someone down at the far end of the table sucked in a breath.
My stomach twisted. Marriage.
It sounded so old-fashioned when he said it like that. Like we’d all been presented at court. Like this wasn’t a glorified, morally questionable gauntlet being run in the woods to help a reclusive billionaire pick a wife.
Henry clasped his hands behind his back.
“The rules are simple,” he said. “You’ve seen them already, of course, but I find it helps to hear them aloud.”
We all stared at Henry as he continued, nine men in masks and nine contestants all hanging on every word the Master of Ceremonies breathed. My throat went dry.
“No names,” Henry said. “You’ll be addressed and will address each other by numbers only. No professions. No specific personal identifiers. You are here to be seen for how you act, not what you profess yourself to be.”
Someone shifted in their chair. Crystal chimed softly against porcelain as number eleven took a sip of her water.
“No kissing,” he went on, “outside of sanctioned challenges. Any unsanctioned intimate contact is considered a breach of contract. If you break that rule, you will be asked to leave. Immediately.”
Heat crawled up my neck, and I kept my eyes on my water glass.
Unsanctioned intimate contact?
I could still feel Jacob’s mouth on mine, his big hands on my hips. I could still hear the gravel in his voice when he’d warned me,You can’t tell anyone this happened.
“And the third rule and most important rule of all,” Henry said, letting a beat of silence hang, “no falling in love with the wrong person. If you make the mistake of falling in love with a man who is not the real Ben Stonewood, you will be eliminated.”
A low ripple of nervous laughter moved around the table, but Henry didn’t smile.
“You may find yourself drawn to someone who is not your assigned partner, and then again, you may find yourself falling for your partner, but either one could be dangerous if you choose the wrong man,” he continued calmly. “You may be tempted to sabotage others. To form alliances. To use what you know — or think you know — to undercut the competition.”
His gaze landed on me for half a second. It felt like being pinned to the table with a fork.
“Be very careful,” he said. “Your contracts include a clause about intentional sabotage. Attempting to get another guestdisqualified or removed, by any means, will result in an immediate elimination — both for you and your partner.”
The air went thin. I hadn’t known that last part.
For you and your partner.
I snuck a look at Jacob. His jaw was tight under the mask. The scar stood out, pale against the black.
Henry’s expression didn’t change.
