Lie
Bella's smile faltered as recognition dawned.
Her eyes widened. Her lips parted.
"Leena?" she whispered.
Rider stood slowly, his expression unreadable.
"Bella," he said.
For a moment, no one moved. The music pounded. The crowd cheered somewhere in the distance. But in that small corner of the lounge, the world had gone silent.
Bella recovered first. Her smile returned—practiced, professional.
So this is where they ended up, she thought. Together. Of course.
"You're Miss Bell?" Rider asked, his voice carrying a note of disbelief. He looked her up and down, taking in the expensive dress, the confident posture, the way she carried herself like she owned the place.
"I am," Bella said.
Rider whistled low, shaking his head. "I never thought you had it in you. To work at a place like this." He gestured around the warehouse—the stages, the private boxes, the crowd of wealthy patrons. "Let alone be in such a high position. The last time I saw you, you were still so shy you couldn't stand your husband fucking other women."
Bella tensed. Her jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, but her expression remained calm.
"You haven't changed, Rider," she said evenly. "Still the same arrogant prick who thinks he knows everything about everyone."
Rider's smile widened. "I know enough."
Bella turned to Leena, her gaze sweeping over the other woman. The expensive dress that probably cost more than most people's rent. The diamond choker at her throat. The confident posture—shoulders back, chin up—like she'd been trained to stand that way.
"But you have," Bella said quietly. "You've changed. A lot."
Leena's chin lifted slightly. "I've come a long way from being that weak little housewife."
Weak, Bella thought. Is that what you think you were?
"You should cherish the simple things," Bella said, her voice soft but pointed.
Leena scoffed. "Look around, Bella. You're in no place to tell me to cherish the little things." She gestured at the warehouse—the stages, the performers, the wealth on display. "You work in a sex club. You're hardly living a simple life yourself."
Bella's smile didn't waver, but something flickered in her eyes.
She doesn't understand, Bella thought. She thinks this is freedom. She thinks she's won something.
Bella changed the subject smoothly. "Why did you want to see me?"
"We didn't want to see you," Rider said, his tone dismissive. "We wanted to meet the King."
"Jac--The King doesn't meet with anyone but VIP members," she said carefully, her voice neutral.
Rider's expression darkened. "We were told—"
"I know what you were told," Bella interrupted. "But those are the rules."
Before Rider could respond, one of the female workers approached quickly, leaning in to whisper in Bella's ear.
"The King wants them to play the game," the woman said quietly. "If they win, he'll see them."
Bella's eyes narrowed. She looked up toward the private box on the second floor—the one with the tinted windows where Jack was watching.
She couldn't see him through the one-way glass, but she knew he was there.
What are you doing, Jack?
She sighed and turned back to Rider and Leena.
"The King will make an exception for you," she said. "If you manage to win the Game."
"What game?" Leena asked.
"Love or Lie."
Rider's expression darkened immediately. "No."
"No?" Bella tilted her head, her smile polite but unyielding.
"I'm not playing on stage for a bunch of rich people like some circus monkey," Rider said. His voice was tight, controlled, but there was an edge to it. "That's not happening."
"Then you won't meet the King," Bella said simply. "It's the only way he'll see you today."
Rider stared at her. His jaw worked. His hands clenched into fists at his sides.
He's calculating, Bella thought. Weighing his pride against his ambition.
Leena touched his arm. "Rider—"
"Fine," Rider said finally, cutting her off. "We'll play."
Bella nodded. "Follow me."
She led them toward the backstage area, her heels clicking against the concrete. Leena walked beside Rider, her expression unreadable.
How did she get this much influence here? Leena wondered. What happened to her after Ronald?
Two female workers met them at the entrance to the backstage corridor. They were young—mid-twenties, maybe—dressed in matching black uniforms.
"Take them to separate rooms," Bella instructed. "Ask them the questions. Write down the answers."
The workers nodded.
Rider was led to one room. Leena to another.
***
The room was small and windowless, lit by a single overhead bulb that cast harsh shadows on the concrete walls.
Leena sat in a metal chair while the worker—a blonde woman in her thirties with sharp features—pulled out a clipboard and pen.
"I'm going to ask you some questions about your partner," the woman said. "Answer honestly. These will be used in the game."
Leena nodded, her hands folded in her lap.
"What's his favorite color?"
"Blue," Leena said. I think. Or is it gray? He wears a lot of gray.
"What's his favorite food?"
Leena hesitated. "Steak?"
The woman wrote it down without comment.
"Where did you two meet?"
"At a dinner party."
"What's his biggest fear?"
Leena opened her mouth. Closed it.
I don't know.
"Failure," she said finally. "Losing control."
The woman wrote it down.
The questions continued. Some were easy—surface-level things anyone might know. Others were harder.
"What's his middle name?"
Leena's stomach dropped. I don't know that either.
"James?" she guessed.
The woman's pen scratched across the paper.
"What was his childhood like?"
"Happy," Leena said, though she wasn't sure. Rider never talked about his childhood.
"What does he want most in the world?"
"Power," Leena said immediately. That one she knew.
The woman wrote it down.
What's his favorite book?
What does he do when he's stressed?
What's his biggest regret?
Leena answered as best she could, but with each question, the knot in her stomach tightened.
I don't know him, she realized. Not really.
***
In the other room, Rider faced the same questions.
"What's her favorite color?"
The worker was a brunette with tired eyes and a professional demeanor.
"Red," Rider said confidently.
"What's her biggest fear?"
Rider paused. "Being alone."
Is that true? he wondered. Or is that just what I want it to be?
The worker wrote it down.
"What does she want most in the world?"
Rider's jaw tightened. "To be free."
The worker glanced up at him, then back at her clipboard.
"What's her middle name?"
Rider blinked. I don't know.
"Marie?" he guessed.
The worker wrote it down.
"What was her childhood like?"
"Normal," Rider said. "Middle-class. Suburban."
I think.
"What's her favorite book?"
Rider's mind went blank. Does she even read?
"I don't know," he said finally.
The worker wrote that down too.
"What does she do when she's stressed?"
"She... cooks," Rider said. Or does she? She used to cook. Does she still?
The questions kept coming, and with each one, Rider felt the ground shifting beneath him.
I don't know her, he thought. Not the way I should.
"Thank you," the worker said finally. "We're done."
***
They were led back out into the warehouse and guided toward the center stage.
The crowd was already gathering, their voices rising in anticipation. Money was changing hands. Bets were being placed.
Leena's heart pounded as she climbed the steps onto the stage.
The lights were blinding. The crowd was a sea of faces—some curious, some hungry, some bored.
Behind them, their squatter was already in position.
A woman in her twenties, naked, bound on her hands and knees. Her wrists were tied behind her back with soft rope. Her legs were spread. A vibrator was already inside her, the cord trailing down to the game master's hand.
The woman's eyes were wide, her breathing shallow.
Across from them, the opposing couple stood at their podium. They looked confident. Comfortable. The man had his arm around the woman's waist, and she was smiling up at him.
Their squatter was in the same position—bound, exposed, waiting.
The game master handed Rider a paddle.
"For when they get a question wrong," he said with a grin.
Rider took it, his expression tight.
This is humiliating, he thought. Standing here. Being watched. Being judged.
Leena stood beside him, her hands clasped in front of her.
She looked up at the second floor, toward the private boxes.
One of them had its curtains drawn. The windows were tinted, but she could see a figure standing there.
A man in a suit. Tall. Broad-shouldered.
Who is that? she wondered. Is that the King?
***
The game master raised his microphone.
"Ladies and gentlemen, our next contestants!"
The crowd cheered.
"Let's see if they know each other as well as they think they do!"
The game master pulled out the first card.
"First question," he said. "For the gentleman. What is your partner's favorite color?"
Rider didn't hesitate. "Red."
The game master checked the card. "Correct!"
The crowd clapped politely.
"Next question. For the lady. What is your partner's favorite food?"
Leena exhaled. Okay. We can do this.
Leena's mind raced. Steak. I said steak.
"Steak," she said.
The game master checked the card.
"Incorrect! He said sushi."
The crowd groaned. A few people booed.
The game master turned the dial on the vibrator.
Leena's face burned. Sushi? Since when does he like sushi?
Their squatter gasped, her body jerking.
The opposing couple stepped forward. The man raised his paddle and brought it down hard on the woman's ass.
CRACK.
The woman cried out, her body arching.
The crowd cheered.
Leena flinched.
This is wrong, she thought. This is so wrong.
But the game continued.
"Next question. For the gentleman. Where did you two meet?"
"At a dinner party," Rider said.
"Correct!"
The crowd clapped.
"Next question. For the lady. What is your partner's middle name?"
Leena's stomach dropped.
I don't know.
"James?" she guessed.
The game master checked the card.
"Incorrect! It's Alexander."
The crowd booed louder this time.
The vibrator's intensity increased. The woman moaned, her hips bucking involuntarily.
CRACK.
Another paddle strike from the opposing team.
Leena's hands trembled.
I don't know him, she thought. I don't know anything about him.
The opposing couple was doing better. They answered question after question correctly, their confidence growing with each success.
"What's her favorite book?"
"To Kill a Mockingbird."
"Correct!"
"What's his biggest fear?"
"Losing his family."
"Correct!"
The crowd cheered for them. Money changed hands. People were winning their bets.
But for Rider and Leena, the questions kept coming.
And they kept getting them wrong.
"What does she want most in the world?"
"To be successful," Rider said.
"Incorrect! She said to be free."
CRACK.
"What was his childhood like?"
The paddle came down on their squatter's ass. The woman whimpered.
"Happy," Leena said.
"Incorrect! He said difficult."
CRACK.
The vibrator was on a higher setting now. Their squatter was sobbing, her body trembling, her thighs slick with arousal.
The crowd was getting restless. People were shouting.
"Come on!"
"I put money on you!"
"You don't know anything about each other!"
Leena's face burned. Her hands were shaking.
This is humiliating, she thought. Everyone can see it. Everyone knows.
Rider's jaw was clenched so tight she thought it might break.
We're losing, he thought. We're losing in front of everyone.
"Next question. For the gentleman. What's her favorite book?"
Rider stared at the game master. His mind was blank.
I don't know. I don't fucking know.
"I don't know," he said finally.
The crowd erupted in boos.
"Incorrect! She said Pride and Prejudice."
CRACK.
The paddle came down harder this time. Their squatter screamed.
"Next question. For the lady. What does your partner do when he's stressed?"
Leena's mind raced. What did I say? What did I say in the room?
"He... works out?" she guessed.
"Incorrect! He said he drinks."
CRACK.
The vibrator was on the highest setting now. Their squatter was convulsing, her body jerking with each pulse.
The opposing couple's squatter was close too—her breathing ragged, her thighs trembling—but the opposing couple kept answering correctly.
"What's his favorite movie?"
"The Godfather."
"Correct!"
"What's her biggest regret?"
"Not traveling more when she was younger."
"Correct!"
The crowd was cheering for them now. They were the clear favorites.
Rider and Leena were drowning.
"Next question. For the gentleman. What's her middle name?"
Rider's throat was dry. "Marie."
"Incorrect! It's Elizabeth."
CRACK.
"Next question. For the lady. What's his biggest regret?"
Leena's voice was barely a whisper. "I don't know."
"Incorrect! He said not standing up to his father."
CRACK.
Their squatter was sobbing now, her body shaking uncontrollably. The vibrator was relentless, pushing her closer and closer to the edge.
"For the gentleman. What does your partner fear most?"
Rider looked at Leena. Their eyes met.
What does she fear?
He thought about the nights they'd spent together. The things they'd done. The way she'd looked at him when he told her she was his queen.
But he didn't know.
He didn't know what kept her up at night. Didn't know what made her cry when she thought no one was watching.
"Being alone," he said finally.
The game master checked the card.
"Incorrect! She said being trapped."
The crowd erupted in boos and jeers.
People were shouting now, angry that they'd lost their bets.
"You're a joke!"
"You don't even know her!"
"What a waste!"
Their squatter squirted first, her body convulsing as liquid sprayed onto the stage.
The crowd cheered.
"And we have a winner!" the game master announced, pointing to the opposing couple.
Rider and Leena had lost.
Decisively.
***
From the second floor, a man started clapping.
Slow. Deliberate.
The crowd quieted, turning to look.
The man stepped closer to the railing. He was tall, dressed in an expensive suit. One of his eyes was foggy—clouded, like he'd been injured.
He looked too happy. Maliciously delighted.
Leena stared up at him, her heart pounding.
Who is that?
"I guess it was all a lie then," the man said, his voice carrying across the warehouse.
His smile widened as he looked down at Rider and Leena.
He's talking about us, Leena realized. About our relationship.
The man's gaze lingered on them for a moment longer, then he turned to the game master.
"Congratulations to the winners," he said. "Move on to the next game."
Then he disappeared back into the private box.
***
Rider walked off the stage, his hands clenched into fists.
Humiliated, he thought. In front of everyone.
He was halfway to the exit when he saw them.
His face was burning. His chest was tight. Every step felt like walking through fire.
Two young men—early twenties, maybe—standing near the bar. They were snickering, their eyes on him.
One of them whispered something to the other. They both laughed.
Rider snapped.
He charged toward the stairs, his voice rising. "I want to see the King! Now!"
The bouncers moved quickly, stepping in front of him.
"Sir, you need to calm down—"
"Get out of my way!"
"Sir—"
Rider shoved one of them. The bouncer grabbed his arm, twisting it behind his back.
"You're done," the bouncer said. "You're out of here."
Leena rushed forward. "Rider, stop—"
"Let me go!"
The crowd was watching now.
And then a voice cut through the chaos.
"It's okay."
Everyone turned.
A woman stood at the base of the stairs. She was tall, with sharp features and an air of authority that made people step back instinctively.
Maya.
"The King will see them now," she said.
The bouncers hesitated, then released Rider.
Maya gestured toward the stairs. "Follow me."
***
They climbed the stairs in silence.
Leena's heart was pounding. Her hands were still shaking.
Who is the King? she wondered. Why does he want to see us?
Maya led them down a hallway lined with private boxes. She stopped at the last one—the one with the tinted windows.
She knocked once.
"I've brought them," she said.
A voice came from inside. Low. Familiar.
"Bring them in."
Maya opened the door.
Rider and Leena stepped inside.
The room was dimly lit, furnished with leather chairs and a small bar. The windows overlooked the warehouse floor below.
And standing by the window, his back to them, was the man from the railing.
He turned slowly.
Leena's breath caught.
The scarred eye. The way he held himself—tall, controlled, dangerous. Something about his posture, the set of his shoulders, the way he moved...
I should know him.
The thought came unbidden, instinctive.
But she didn't.
She couldn't place him. Couldn't connect the face to any memory. The scarring had changed too much—one eye clouded and foggy, the other sharp and calculating. His features were harder now, leaner. Time had carved away whatever softness might have been there before.
And yet.
Why does he feel familiar?
Leena's stomach twisted. Her hands trembled at her sides.
The man's expression was unreadable—calm, controlled, but with something dark simmering beneath the surface. Something that made her want to step back. To run.
"You've caused quite the scene," he said, his voice smooth as silk.