my body even now.
The screen pauses.
“Rialta is to remain a virgin until I say otherwise. She will remain that way to ensure her offspring are worthy of my kingdom. Don’t fuck her without my permission. I’ll know.”
I blink, and a tear escapes, rolling quickly down my cheek. I should brush it away before turning back around. I don’t want these guys to see my shock, but I leave the tear on my cheek.
My father knows I’m not a virgin; he’s seen the proof himself. Hopefully, that sex video will keep me from having to do another one of those virginity tests that apparently filled my youth.
I need a drink to get through the rest of this. Before my father or anyone else can stop me, I dart down the stairs. Only once the darkness consumes me do I wipe the tears from my face. On the main floor my sight is better than onstage. I walk to the first table, where there are several vacant seats and leftover drinks.
I pick up the first and down it, barely registering the scotch’s burn as it goes down. I pick up a second and down it, too, as my father continues talking.
“This game is to find out one thing—who is worthy of my daughter. Who is strong enough to lead my family. Each week we will meet. I’ll draw a name. That name will take part in creating the game, the rules. But ultimately, I’ll be the one deciding how the game is played.” He drones on talking of rules, expectations, logistics, and on and on.
The alcohol has barely hit my stomach when it hits me.
I grab one of the pieces of paper, jot my name down, prick my finger, and smear my own blood on the card. If they have a chance to win me, to win my father’s kingdom, then I want the same chance.
I storm back onstage, determined to not let my father stop me. He wouldn’t dare let on that he doesn’t have complete control over me, not in front of them.
He doesn’t react. Even his eyebrows don’t so much as raise as I walk over to the bowl and drop my card into it. I look him dead in the eyes.
“I get to compete too. And if I win, I get to choose who my husband is.”
He only gives me the slightest of nods. I know I have no chance of winning. He’ll rig it so I don’t, but I have to try. It’s all I’ve got.
Then I walk back off the stage, my head spinning as memories come flooding back.
2
Ri
“Rialta, time to go,” Dario, one of the security guards, says to me suddenly.
I don’t fight Dario as he leads me away from the now empty ballroom. The lights are on, so I can see the vacant seats and empty alcohol glasses.
I pause when goosebumps crawl up my spine as I look at one particular table. It’s the only table with five empty chairs—the table that Beckett and his crew sat at.
“This way,” Dario says, grabbing my elbow and guiding me out of the ballroom. He leads me out to the back of the waiting limo.
I slide in and jump when my father speaks, “That was foolish.”
“No, it wasn’t,” I snap back.
“Now you will have to compete the same as them. These games will be deadly. There is no guarantee, even with your skillset, that you’ll survive them.”
I frown. My skillset? What is he talking about?
I try to keep a blank face. I don’t want him to know that I don’t remember much, even as the memories seem to be returning.
“Maybe you should change the game, make it less dangerous.”
My father huffs.
It was worth a shot to keep Caius and Beckett safe.
“Maybe I’ll die, and you’ll have no one to whore out and get heirs to your throne,” I spit out with glee.
He stares at his phone as he types. “Just stay alive.”
“Oh, how sweet. You care about me, huh, Father?”
He cocks his head as if I revealed something, but he doesn’t say what.
The car stops back at his condo building. Dario opens the door for me, while the driver opens the door for my father. We head into the elevator alone. Apparently, the guards aren’t allowed to ride in the same elevator as us.
The doors open into his condo. I want nothing more than to run upstairs and get out of this dress and heels. But that room…I can’t go back to the room where I was