Read Online At Any Price (Gaming The System) by Brenna Aubrey - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Brenna Aubrey
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conflict?”
“Because there are ways you can handle it that you haven’t thought of.”
I clenched my jaw. “Oh, is that so? Like what?”
He looked to the side, considering. “You could temporarily go on hiatus with the DE column and find something else to take its place for a few months. Or you could get a guest blogger to handle it for you.”
I laughed. “Are you actually suggesting I drop the free publicity of your game? I can’t believe my ears.”
But he’d planted the seed of an idea in my mind. One of my closest gaming friends, Katya, who played as Persephone, had been wanting to guest post for some time. I’d never met her in person but, as with FallenOne, Heath and I played regularly with her. I could probably set her onto the task. She was a diehard DE fan.
Still, I hesitated. And at that moment, our sandwiches were delivered to the table. I dug into mine—turkey and avocado on a wheat roll—with gusto. I hadn’t had breakfast and was running low on groceries, as usual, and I was still a few days out from the next paycheck.
“I’m still not convinced it’s a good idea.”
“Then let me to resolve your other concerns,” he said, taking a bite of his spicy chicken po’boy and commenting on how good it was.
“I don’t think you can.” I said in between my next bites.
“Try me.”
“I don’t think we’re compatible.”
“How compatible would we have to be for one night?”
I shrugged. It wasn’t what I’d really wanted to say. It wasn’t compatibility that concerned me. It was this scorching sexual tension that crackled through the air whenever we were near each other. Or at least that’s how it was for me. I had no idea what he was feeling. He seemed as calm, cool and collected as on the day we met.
I cleared my throat and leaned forward, my elbows on the table in front of me. “Mr. Drake, it’s very important to me that you understand that I am in control of this entire situation. It was my auction, my drive, my desire to see an end to an archaic value system that for centuries worked against women and to turn it on its ear.”
When he looked at me, his eyes sliced right through me, lanced me to the core. “It all sounds very noble and revolutionary when you put it that way. And here I’d been convinced this entire time that you were doing it for the money.”
I sat back, watching him. So the Manifesto hadn’t fooled him in the least. I affected a shrug that I didn’t feel. “I won’t lie. I could use the money. I want to go to medical school and I don’t want to be in debt. Some women waitress at topless bars to put themselves through college. Some dance at strip clubs or sell phone sex over the Internet. My decision was to use one night in my life to change the course of things, if possible.”
He didn’t have to know about my mother’s hospital bills and her cancer treatments or even the threat to the mortgage on the ranch property. He didn’t have to know about the way I felt like vomiting whenever I thought of any of those things, of the panic that laced the edges of every thought that concerned money. I’d let him think I was just doing this for me. I never claimed to be a selfless saint.
His forehead creased and he got that strange, cold look he did when he’d dismissed me at the end of our first interview. “But ultimately, no matter who it is you choose to submit to, you will end up ceding control. You won’t be in control of the entire situation for the entire night.”
I looked away but hesitated from biting into my sandwich. “I’d like to feel like I’m in control now. ”
“And my coming here to change your mind threatens that?”
I tilted my head to the side, considering. “It depends on what you’ll do if you fail to convince me.”
He hesitated a moment, then set his jaw. “I’ll step aside.”
We watched each other over our empty plates—or at least his, for he had finished his sandwich and half of mine remained. I was
“Because there are ways you can handle it that you haven’t thought of.”
I clenched my jaw. “Oh, is that so? Like what?”
He looked to the side, considering. “You could temporarily go on hiatus with the DE column and find something else to take its place for a few months. Or you could get a guest blogger to handle it for you.”
I laughed. “Are you actually suggesting I drop the free publicity of your game? I can’t believe my ears.”
But he’d planted the seed of an idea in my mind. One of my closest gaming friends, Katya, who played as Persephone, had been wanting to guest post for some time. I’d never met her in person but, as with FallenOne, Heath and I played regularly with her. I could probably set her onto the task. She was a diehard DE fan.
Still, I hesitated. And at that moment, our sandwiches were delivered to the table. I dug into mine—turkey and avocado on a wheat roll—with gusto. I hadn’t had breakfast and was running low on groceries, as usual, and I was still a few days out from the next paycheck.
“I’m still not convinced it’s a good idea.”
“Then let me to resolve your other concerns,” he said, taking a bite of his spicy chicken po’boy and commenting on how good it was.
“I don’t think you can.” I said in between my next bites.
“Try me.”
“I don’t think we’re compatible.”
“How compatible would we have to be for one night?”
I shrugged. It wasn’t what I’d really wanted to say. It wasn’t compatibility that concerned me. It was this scorching sexual tension that crackled through the air whenever we were near each other. Or at least that’s how it was for me. I had no idea what he was feeling. He seemed as calm, cool and collected as on the day we met.
I cleared my throat and leaned forward, my elbows on the table in front of me. “Mr. Drake, it’s very important to me that you understand that I am in control of this entire situation. It was my auction, my drive, my desire to see an end to an archaic value system that for centuries worked against women and to turn it on its ear.”
When he looked at me, his eyes sliced right through me, lanced me to the core. “It all sounds very noble and revolutionary when you put it that way. And here I’d been convinced this entire time that you were doing it for the money.”
I sat back, watching him. So the Manifesto hadn’t fooled him in the least. I affected a shrug that I didn’t feel. “I won’t lie. I could use the money. I want to go to medical school and I don’t want to be in debt. Some women waitress at topless bars to put themselves through college. Some dance at strip clubs or sell phone sex over the Internet. My decision was to use one night in my life to change the course of things, if possible.”
He didn’t have to know about my mother’s hospital bills and her cancer treatments or even the threat to the mortgage on the ranch property. He didn’t have to know about the way I felt like vomiting whenever I thought of any of those things, of the panic that laced the edges of every thought that concerned money. I’d let him think I was just doing this for me. I never claimed to be a selfless saint.
His forehead creased and he got that strange, cold look he did when he’d dismissed me at the end of our first interview. “But ultimately, no matter who it is you choose to submit to, you will end up ceding control. You won’t be in control of the entire situation for the entire night.”
I looked away but hesitated from biting into my sandwich. “I’d like to feel like I’m in control now. ”
“And my coming here to change your mind threatens that?”
I tilted my head to the side, considering. “It depends on what you’ll do if you fail to convince me.”
He hesitated a moment, then set his jaw. “I’ll step aside.”
We watched each other over our empty plates—or at least his, for he had finished his sandwich and half of mine remained. I was
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