Choosing becomes leaving. And the contract already has a deadline. I was never supposed to stay—just perform until the game ends in a year.
 
 My mind races and my chest aches with the rejection I feel flowing like blood in my veins. I want to talk to them—all of them—and find out where they are, what they feel. If it’s possible that they feel more.
 
 But they’re too busy trying to save their empire.
 
 Con is already on the phone, tucking his cock back into his pants while talking to someone about price per square foot.
 
 I’m not sure what to do, so I go to the wet bar, grab an ice-cold water to soothe the ache in my jaw, then pour Con another coffee.
 
 I set it on the desk, and before I can step away, he catches my hand—laces his fingers with mine—then pulls me into his lap.
 
 He doesn’t look at me. His eyes are on his screen, but he’s holding me.
 
 While my heart is shattering with the truth of our lives being thrust back into my face, he’s giving me his time.
 
 It’s all the attention he can give, and it reminds me ofbefore.
 
 The time we spent together when I thought I might be able to have him forever. How he always had to touch me, his hand at my waist, his arm over my shoulder, our fingers intertwined.
 
 It made me feel cherished then. It does now, too, even if the situation is complicated and I don’t know where I stand—or how long I’ll be here.
 
 I take what I can get.
 
 I rest my head on his shoulder, close my eyes, and just breathe him in, soaking his warmth and the sense of safety that comes with his arms around me.
 
 How long can I keep this going? I have to tell one of them about the messages soon.
 
 I know Con is the right one to give the information to first. They’re all swamped, but if I tell Storm, he’ll go off on his own and kill someone—and he could get caught. I’d never forgive myself if he went to prison because of me.
 
 Atticus is one crisis away from going on a rampage, and Mav has so much on his plate it’s pushing his insecurities to the surface. I can’t add to that. He’d want to fix it himself just to prove himself.
 
 All three of them would turn it into a mission to hurt the people who dared to hurt me. Not because they care about me.It’s ownership. They see me as their property, and they protect what’s theirs.
 
 No more, no less.
 
 Con is different.
 
 He’s cold and analytical. He’ll take control of the situation and make a plan, then hand out tasks that match the others’ skills. It’ll still add stress, but at least they won’t try to shoulder it alone or use it to prove a point.
 
 So when? When do I tell him that not only does he have to save his empire but he has to rescue me from my own stupidity? Maybe it would be better to just give myself over to the anonymous caller—let them take me, use me, and abuse me however they see fit, so long as it’s just me.
 
 There are plenty of women who’d love to take my place in the Titan’s bed. And based on the group chat, Con is already planning on someone needing to find my replacement.
 
 “Princess? Where did you go?” Con whispers at my ear, his arms tightening around my body.
 
 I hadn’t realized he was off the call.
 
 “Nowhere. I’m…trying to figure out how I can help,” I say, and my gut twists at how easily the lie slips out.
 
 Although technically, I’m trying to figure out how to help myself survive his rejection, so it’s not actually a lie.
 
 “Help me grab these contracts. We’re moving to my father’s—no, my office. Somewhere I can work without interruption and give you all the punishments you’ve earned. And show you your new uniform.”
 
 No, I definitely can’t tell him about the texts and calls now. Maybe tonight. Maybe if I take my punishment—and my orgasms—like a good girl, he’ll still want me, still keep me…despite the proof I’ve seen with my own eyes that I’m nothing more than a bet to him. A game to pass the time.
 
 “New uniform?” I ask.
 
 “Completely naked and ready for me at all times.” He pauses, head cocked to the side, studying me. “On second thought…”