Page 4 of The Game

Showgirl25: No way do they film that. It would be illegal.

User917: It’s streamed only and not recorded. That’s why there’s no footage. It only exists for those lucky enough to witness it. And in the fact that the winners are obsessed.

I turned off my phone and stared into the night-black of my bedroom, trying to imagine myself as one of the hunted women. The more I heard about this, the more compelling it became, especially when I put Malachi in the frame.

I wanted to be caught and claimed. I wanted someone to be obsessed with me to the point of recklessness. That’s why Annie’s date offer had fallen short because any man she knew would never live up to something like this.

I was losing my mind.

An idea took shape. If I wanted to get this intriguing concept out of my head, there was only one way to do that. I needed facts, not rumours.

And if I needed to sleep again, I had to take the edge off my rising heat.

For a second time in one evening, I brought myself to an orgasm with the MMA fighter on my mind, certain in the knowledge that it was nothing to what a man like him could deliver in the flesh.

The following morning, I slept in late, something I never did. By the time I got back from my gym workout, it was lunchtime. I showered and dressed, talking myself back from the metaphorical ledge of going to the nightclub and asking to see the boss.

It was silly. I wasn’t going to do it.

They wouldn’t even want me. I was a decade older than most of the other women who signed up, I imagined. There was also the fact that I had a demanding career.

My phone chirped. I picked it up and opened the message from my friend.

Annie: Ian is excited to meet you. He’s agreed to dinner and to me sharing his contact details. I’m so glad I could do this for you!

Under the message was the contact form for Ian. It came with a photo attached. Ian looked to be in his forties, with neatly cut short brown hair. Clean-shaven. Suit with an expensive watch tastefully hinted at under his sleeve. Exactly what I’d expected, and alarmingly similar to the jerk down the hall who kept abusing my parking spot.

On my browser, I typed ‘Malachi Hunan’ and gazed at his rugged face, comparing it to the safe option Annie had offered. In some of the photos, Malachi was bruised and bloodied, though always grinning. Others contained scandalous headlines of women he’d slept with. Fresh desire pulsed through me.

I wanted him. I’d maybe be caught by someone like him, if I did this thing.

“I need my head read,” I muttered.

Somehow, I still found myself retrieving my little car from the rain-spattered visitor’s spot and driving down the harbour road.

The warehouse appeared ahead. Red-brick and massive, it loomed on the banks of Deadwater River, eight storeys high and with two entrances at the front marked with neon pink signs that read ‘Divine’ and ‘Divide’.

At night, I would avoid this place for fear of the type of people who frequented it. The men who used the strip club. The alleged gang that ran it all. By day, it was only a shade less intimidating.

More, I was captivated by the thought of what happened in the basement.

In the mostly empty car park around the back, I parked up and breathed slowly to stop my hands from shaking. I checked my phone, almost willing it to ring with work needing me to cover an emergency, but no, it remained stubbornly silent.

“It’s this or Ian,” I urged myself.

That final thought gave me the push I needed to get out of the car and go.

Chapter 3

Malachi

Outside the skeleton crew’s headquarters, I pulled up in my all-black 4X4 and leapt down, landing heavily on the tarmac with a thud. My eye was still swollen from last night’s fight, but at no point had I considered calling off my appointment.

Fuck no. I needed this. I wanted it more than I understood.

A hefty security guard met me at the door. “Name?”

I raised my split eyebrow. “Take a guess.”

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