Taking Turns (Turning #1)(47)

“You can say no,” Bric says. “Just get up and walk out and we’ll never bother you again.”

“You like this?” I ask him. “You like the thought of Smith watching you? Watching us?”

“We’ve been doing it so long, Marcella, I barely know he’s there.”

“Liar.” Smith laughs. “He’s lying. He gets off to it, Chella. He gets off to some pretty sick shit. I should know. I’ve seen him do it all downstairs.”

I ignore Smith and concentrate on Bric. “So you do like it?”

He shrugs. “I wouldn’t let him watch if I didn’t.”

“And I wouldn’t want to watch if I didn’t like it.”

I look at Smith. “You, I understand. You’re weird. You’re a deviant. You’re on the verge of being a predator. I just need to know where the rest of you fall in this. Are you like him?” I ask Quin, but motion to Smith.

“Yeah,” he says. “I like it. I like being Number Two this time, I’m not gonna lie. I get to f*ck you any way I want and no one gets to be there but me. But I like being Number One as well. And Number Three. And if you give it a chance, Chella, you’ll like it too. I know you will because you’re a dirty f*cking whore.”

“Just like us,” Bric says.

Smith laughs.

I’m quiet again as I think things through. This time they stay quiet with me. All the noise from downstairs in the lobby and the Black Room disappears as I run the consequences of this game through my mind.

“Explain everything,” I finally say. “Tell me why you do this. Why you do it this way. And if you lie to me”—I look at Smith for this—“I will walk out. I want to know the truth and if you give me that, I’ll think about it some more. But if you don’t, if I get an inkling that you’re manipulating me, I’ll leave. I will, Smith Baldwin. I’ll walk away from you and never look back.”

“Of course we’re manipulating you,” Bric says. I’m confused for a moment, unsure if Bric is telling me to walk away, or just stating the obvious. “We’re manipulating each other too,” he continues. “Smith can’t touch you. At all. Quin gets anything he wants, as long as you become friends at the same time. And I only get you with Smith’s permission. It’s a f*cked-up game, Chella, but it works.”

“How?” I ask. “How the f*ck does any of this make sense to you?”

“We’re building trust, Chella,” Quin says. “We trust each other to follow the rules and if we all do that, if we all keep to the plan, we end up happy.”

“Together,” Smith says. “You’re forgetting the final rule. There are no rules when we’re all together.”

“You want to gang-bang me?” I laugh. I laugh because it’s sick and dirty and the fact that I’m thinking about it makes me…

“The other night, Chella,” Quin continues, “you said something like, ‘Who enters a plural relationship with rules like no f*cking and more talking?’”

Smith laughs. “God, Chella, I kinda love you already.”

Even Bric laughs.

“She’s f*cking funny as hell, you guys,” Quin says. “I can’t wait for you to see it. But Chella, it’s not a plural relationship. It’s a ménage.”

“That’s not what Rochelle told me. She said—”

“We never got this far with Rochelle,” Bric explains. “She never liked Smith. They never became friends. She liked Quin and me, and we were One and Three, so we didn’t need Smith. It was always off-balance.”

“But I like you, Chella,” Quin says. “I’m not gonna walk away from you like Smith walked away from Rochelle. I’m gonna show up every Sunday at midnight and I’m gonna f*ck you senseless until I have to leave. And then Bric will come and you will let Smith watch.”

“And then one day, Chella”—Smith picks up the conversation—“you’ll want all of us. At the same time. We can go right to that tonight, if you want. We can jump right in and get started. Forget about all this bullshit getting to know each other. But even if you take your time, we will end up together. We will all f*ck you,” he says, leaning over to kiss my mouth.

I want to collapse from that kiss. His hand is on my neck, his thumb feeling my pulse. And then he whispers in my mouth, “You put my collar back on. You want this. You know you want this.”

He holds on to the gold choker even as he backs away. His fingers threaded underneath it, pressing against my neck. He holds on to me like I’m already his.

We are all silent for a moment because the server comes asking about food. One of them orders for me. But I am stuck in my thoughts, my head a jumbled mess from their offer.

How did I get here?

Champagne is poured and Smith is placing my hand on a fluted glass, lifting it to my lips. I drink, a long gulp as I work through what this means.

“Have you ever had a threesome?” Bric asks.

It takes me a second to realize he’s speaking to me. I want to say no. I want to say it emphatically. Loudly. Loaded with self-righteous indignation.

But I can’t. Because it’s a lie. And they’d know it was a lie. They obviously see something in me that gives them permission to make me this offer. Maybe it’s the fact that you agreed to Rochelle’s plan? And maybe it’s because you let Quin f*ck you, even though he thought you were Rochelle? Maybe it’s because you’ve been down this road before?