Chapter 21 – Ben
Chapter
Twenty-One
BEN
Mei had barely slipped the broken vase into the evidence bag before I knew exactly how this day was going to end.
Not the challenge and not the eliminations.
Chrissy.
Her name had been a low, steady thrum at the back of my skull since she’d stepped into the library. Since she’d looked around like she saw possibility instead of dust. Since she’d smiled at Mei — that soft, open smile she didn’t give anyone else.
But the moment she dropped to her knees to shield my maid from consequences she didn’t deserve? That was when the fuse really caught fire. And her volunteering herself as the one responsible? That was when the fuse hit the damn powder keg.
I followed her back to the great room at a distance, staying half a step behind her the way a servant would. Shoulders relaxed. Gaze lowered. The harmless, scarred groundskeeper nobody bothered to notice. But inside, I wasn’t calm at all. Inside, I was a storm.
She had no idea whose attention she’d grabbed. No idea what it meant to step into the path of my supposed anger, or my interest. No idea what I planned to do to her. For her. With her.
She had no idea that ‘punishment’ wasn’t a threat for me. It was a promise, and she’d just begged for it.
The women gathered in clusters as Henry stepped in front of the fireplace again. He hadn’t said the true purpose of the challenge this morning — because that would’ve ruined the fun. You don’t warn your prey to watch its step. You let it walk into the snare you set.
He’d been with me long enough to know my mind: I didn’t care about curtains, or paint swatches, or how well someone could coordinate a pillow set. Anyone could decorate. Very few could treat the people the world deemed beneath them like human beings.
I took my place with the other staff, shoulders slightly bowed, hands clasped behind my back. Ben Stonewood wouldn’t stand here. He didn’t blend in. He was the center of gravity in every room he entered. Jacob slipped into the background like fog.
Chrissy kept glancing my way, as if making sure I was still alive after the explosion of porcelain and the whispered threats in the hallway. She didn’t know she was looking at the same man she was terrified of seeing later tonight. More than that, she didn’t know how much her terror delighted me.
Henry cleared his throat.
“Today’s challenge,” he began, his voice cool and even, “revealed more than some of you intended.”
A few women straightened, preening.
Fucking idiots.
“It wasn’t just about design.”
The room went still.
“It wasn’t about style, either.”
A few of the bolder ‘contestants’ frowned.
“And it wasn’t about how the room looked in the end.”
Now the panic started.
Henry’s smile didn’t reach his eyes.
“It was about the one thing money can’t teach: character.”
Chrissy’s breath hitched. I felt it, even from across the room.
“You were judged,” Henry continued, “on how you spoke to Mr. Stonewood’s staff. On how you handled setbacks. On whether you treated people as tools or teammates. Some of you rose to the occasion.”
His gaze flicked over Chrissy briefly.
“And some of you failed spectacularly.”
Fourteen stiffened like someone had prodded her spine with a cattle prod.
“I told you — she dropped the vase on purpose—”
“No,” Henry said, voice like a razor wrapped in satin, “you struck one of my staff, Amelia, in the face. And for that, you are eliminated.”
She sputtered, indignant, but two security guards had already appeared at her elbows.
“Mr. Stonewood will hear about this!” she tried. “I’m sure he would agree—”
“He was watching,” Henry said, each word a nail hammered into her coffin. “He saw everything, and I can assure you he doesn’t agree with anything about you.”
My jaw clenched. I hadn’t just watched. I’d wanted to break her nose myself. No one touched my staff. No one touched my people. And no one — not one goddamn person — hurt someone in my house and walked away smiling.
The guards escorted her out and the remaining contestants shifted uneasily.
Good.
Fear made them manageable.
Henry let the silence settle, then continued.
“One of you,” he said, and now his tone shifted, subtle, but unmistakable, “took responsibility for damage she didn’t cause. She shielded the staff with no thought for herself.”
Chrissy froze. Every cell in her body telegraphed tension. Shame. Pride. Fear.
And under all of it, something she didn’t want to name, something I knew intimately.
“She proved herself willing to accept consequences,” Henry said. “Willing to be accountable. Willing to protect those with less power than she has.”
A murmur broke through the room.
I kept my face blank, Jacob’s face, but inside? I burned with pride.
Because she didn’t do it for whoever might be watching. She didn’t do it to impress me, and she didn’t do it because it was strategic.
She did it because it was who she was.
And Chrissy Jones had no idea that for a man like me — a man who’d only ever seen loyalty when it was bought, aside from Henry — that was the most dangerous thing she could’ve shown me.
Henry straightened.
“Number Eighteen remains in the Game.”
Chrissy exhaled shakily, her shoulders dropping a fraction. She didn’t look at me.
Smart girl.
Because if she had, she would’ve seen something she wasn’t ready to understand yet. I wasn’t furious with her for taking the blame. I wasn’t disappointed. I wasn’t planning to punish her because she’d embarrassed me.
I was planning to punish her because she’d made me feel something and I was powerless to stop myself.
Desire. Interest. Protectiveness. Possession.
She’d thrown herself on a sword that was never pointed at her and dared me to decide what she was worth… and I intended to show her.
The eliminations wrapped up. The contestants dispersed in clusters, muttering, swapping gossip and alliances. Staff began quietly clearing the leftover decorations, sweeping up glass, resetting furniture.
Mei gave Chrissy a tiny nod on her way past. Chrissy turned toward the staircase.
She thought she was going to her room to rest, recover, and maybe steel herself.
She didn’t know she’d sealed her fate.
I stepped forward from the line of staff and let my voice drop low, Jacob’s gravel pulling across my throat.
“Chrissy.”
She stopped like she’d been hooked through the spine, turned, and met my eyes.
Her eyes widened just slightly, enough for me to see the conflict she didn’t want anyone else to notice. Gratitude. Fear. Longing. Confusion. A pulse of heat she tried to swallow.
Good. That would be useful later.
“I need a word,” I said, pitching my tone soft enough that it wouldn’t carry.
She glanced around, checking for Henry, checking for cameras, as if I wasn’t the one controlling all of them, then she nodded.
I led her down the hall, just far enough that the others wouldn’t hear. Close enough that she couldn’t forget she was still in my world. Still in my house. Still under my rules.
Her breath hitched when I turned to face her.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” I murmured, letting Jacob’s concern bleed through Ben’s intent.
She lifted her chin.
“I wasn’t going to let her take the blame.”
“You don’t know what he does to people who stick their nose where it doesn’t belong.”
She swallowed.
“I’m going to find out, I guess.”
She was such a reckless, stupid girl… a girl who didn’t know I loved stupid girls, the kind who didn’t know how to keep their hands out of danger.
I stepped closer, just enough to loom. Just enough to let her feel Jacob’s warmth and Ben’s danger beneath it.
“You know what’s going to happen tonight because of what you did today.”
Her breath hitched and her cheeks flushed.
She did. Every muscle in her body said she did.
“Yeah,” she whispered.
“You think you can handle it?” I asked.
Her pulse fluttered in her throat like a trapped bird.
“Do I have a choice?”
A smile ghosted across my lips… Jacob’s softness hiding Ben’s hunger.
“Everyone has a choice, angel. But you did make yours… didn’t you?”
Her eyes dimmed with dread and sparked with something else, something she didn’t want. Something she didn’t understand yet.
Perfect.
“Go upstairs,” I said softly. “He’ll come to you at ten o’clock again. Don’t forget your blindfold.”
She nodded once, shaky, even as her face reddened with the realization that Jacob knew, or at least suspected, what she’d done with Mr. Stonewood over the past couple of nights.
Then she turned and walked away, her back straight, hands trembling, skin flushing at the memory of my palm bruising her last night and the night before.
I watched her go, drinking in the sway of her hips, the tremor in her calves, the way she touched my mother’s ring like it grounded her.
She thought tonight was going to be about a broken vase. She thought tonight was about protecting the staff. She thought tonight was about consequences for her interference, even if I theoretically agreed with the outcome of her protecting my staff.
She had no idea the only thing I cared about punishing was the way her voice shook when she said she’d take the blame.
And God help both of us, I intended to hear it shake again before the night was over.
I waited until the lodge was silent, the clock ticking past ten like a heartbeat I couldn’t slow. Tonight felt heavier — different — because she hadn’t just defied the Game. She’d stepped in front of a bullet meant for someone else and dared me to pull the trigger on her instead.
I waited until the lodge was silent, the clock ticking past ten like a heartbeat I couldn’t slow. Tonight felt heavier — different — because she hadn’t just defied the Game. She’d stepped in front of a bullet meant for someone else and dared me to pull the trigger on her instead.