Page 32 of The Pakhans’ Curvy Prize

Alex follows without hesitation, his sedan turning onto the same road moments later.

I slow down and make the turn as well, my headlights cutting through the darkness as the paved highway gives way to a dirt road surrounded by dense forest.

The trees form a canopy overhead, blocking out most of the moonlight and creating shadows that seem to move and shift as I drive past.

This is definitely the kind of place where someone would go if they wanted to live off the grid, away from the noise and chaos of the city.

The road winds through the woods for another few minutes before I see brake lights ahead. Both vehicles have slowed to a crawl, and I can make out the shape of a small cottage through the trees.

It's set back from the road, surrounded by woods on all sides, with a single light glowing in one of the windows.

Marla's cottage. It has to be.

I pull my SUV to a stop behind Alex's sedan, leaving enough distance that I'm not blocking anyone in, but close enough that my presence is unmistakable.

The engines cut off one by one, and for a moment there's nothing but silence and the sound of the wind moving through the trees.

I climb out of my vehicle and see Russ standing next to his SUV, his expression dark with irritation as he looks first at Alex and then at me.

Alex leans against his sedan with his arms crossed, looking far too amused by this situation for my liking.

"What the fuck are you two doing here?" Russ asks, his voice low and dangerous.

"I could ask you the same question," I reply, my tone just as hard. "But I think we all know the answer."

Before anyone can say anything else, I notice movement in the cottage. A curtain in the front window shifts, pulled aside by someone inside. All three of us turn to look at the same time.

And there she is. Marla stares back at us through the glass with an expression of complete shock on her face.

11

MARLA

I'm halfway through my second glass of wine when my laptop screen blurs in front of me for the third time in ten minutes.

My brain refuses to focus on anything except the humiliating memory of seeing Alex and Russ standing outside Nick's building Friday night. They talked about me.

Of course they did.

Three powerful men who apparently know each other well enough to have late-night business meetings in penthouses, and I managed to sleep with all of them within the span of three weeks.

The cottage is quiet around me, just the soft hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of the old wooden floors settling.

Tonight, the isolation feels less like safety and more like vulnerability.

I'm five miles outside of town with no neighbors in sight, and the only person who knows I'm here is Sharon, who's been texting me worried messages all day that I've been ignoring.

My phone buzzes on the coffee table, and I nearly jump out of my skin.

Sharon's name flashes across the screen, and I consider letting it go to voicemail before guilt wins out.

"Hey," I answer, trying to sound normal and failing miserably.

"Marla." Sharon's voice comes through tight and nervous. "I need to tell you something, and please don't freak out."

My stomach drops. "What happened?"

"Russ was at the club tonight." She says it quickly, like ripping off a bandage. "He was asking questions about you. About where you live, what you do for work, and how we know each other. I didn't tell him anything specific, I swear, but Marla, he was really intense about it."