The Whole Package (Hearts to Buy #1)

Carmen

When Enzo's key clicks into Valentina's lock, a lightbulb goes off in my head – the guy's played us all. This wasn't chance or fate; it was a setup. Valentina, for her part, can't even bring herself to look at him as he triumphantly announces the 'match.' Her face is a mask, but I can't tell if she's feeling guilty or

just plain embarrassed. Either way, this isn't a surprise to her.

The others around the room just nod like this is the least shocking development in the world. Seriously? I sneak a look at Silas, expecting some kind of reaction, but the guy is as cool as a cucumber – unnervingly so. It's almost as if he's seen this play out before like he's not just okay with his brother getting cozy with his wife, but like it's part of their weird family dynamic.

I lean back, processing this twisted soap opera unfolding before me. Is this what these high-society parties are all about? Swapping partners and secret affairs right under everyone's nose? The thought makes me want to roll my eyes so hard they'd fall out of my head. Enzo, with his smug smile, is clearly pleased with himself. And Silas, well, he's either the world's best actor or genuinely doesn't care.

Alright, it's my turn. I reach into the bowl and fish out one of the last two keys, leaving Mara to pick the other. All the locks are already in play, and it's down to me and Mara. I glance at Elijah and Mark, holding onto their locks, and then there's Mara. I can practically feel her daggers shooting into my back. God, I really hope I don't end up with her fiancé. That woman has a look about her that says she's not afraid to go for the jugular if you cross her.

Honestly, I was half-expecting to pull Silas' lock. Part of me figured with Enzo masterminding this twisted game, he'd set me up as a swap deal for his brother's wife. But as I stand here with this key in my hand, it looks like I was off the mark. Roping me in with Silas would be too evident and risky, and Enzo doesn't want to give himself away.

Here I am, caught in the middle of their warped game, whether I like it or not. Part of me wants to just chuck the money back at Enzo and walk out, but I know that won't fly. Ava would have my head for bailing, and I can't afford to screw this up.

But seriously, did Ava know about this lock-and-key circus? If she did and didn't bother to warn me, I'm going to be seriously pissed. A heads-up would have been nice.

Well, isn't this just fantastic? My key unlocks Elijah's lock; just like that, I'm paired with Mara's fiancé for the night. The irony isn't lost on me. Mara, quick to pick up Mark's lock, doesn't even get a chance to make a fuss before Enzo ushers everyone off to their assigned rooms. Each lock has a room number, and lucky me, I'm stuck with room number five. Looking like he's done this a hundred times before, Elijah takes the lead, guiding me through the maze of this too-big house.

I trail behind him, half wondering if I've accidentally walked onto the set of some reality TV show. This is the kind of drama you binge-watch with a tub of ice cream, not live out in real life. But here I am, following Elijah to a room where who knows what awaits. I can't help but think about Mara. She looked ready to explode, and here I was, walking off with her man. That's not exactly how I planned my evening. I repeatedly tell myself that she signed up for this, but I didn't — I just came here to work.

As we reach room number five, Elijah opens the door with a casual flick of his wrist, like he's opening the door to a coffee shop, not a room where we're supposed to... well, whatever we're supposed to do in this game. The room has this fancy, over-the-top vibe – all plush and perfect. Elijah seems at ease, but I'm standing here like a fish out of water. The room's decked out like some kind of VIP suite you'd see in a movie. Plush carpets, mood lighting, and a bed that looks like it could swallow me whole. Elijah's strolling in like he owns the place, but I'm just hovering by the door, feeling as out of place as a nun in a nightclub.

"Make yourself at home," Elijah says, gesturing with a nonchalant wave around the room. Home? Yeah, right.

"So, this is like a regular thing for you guys?" I ask, my gaze sweeping over the room. "Swapping partners, playing this game or whatever you call it?" Elijah looks taken aback for a second by my blunt questioning, but then he grins, plopping himself onto the bed.

"Yup," he says as if we're discussing something as mundane as the weather.

I remember Mara's face earlier – she definitely didn't seem happy. "Your fiancée didn't look too thrilled about it," I point out, unable to keep the observation to myself.

"She can say no anytime," Elijah replies, his tone so casual it's like he's discussing a choice of dinner, not a partner-swapping game. The nonchalance throws me. Seriously, what's with these people?

"Why doesn't she just say no? Does she get an ultimatum or something if she doesn't play along? And how are you even cool with this whole setup?" The words just tumble out before I can rein them in. It's like once I start, I can't stop. Elijah rises, closing the distance between us with a few strides. His hand finds mine, pulling me gently yet firmly towards the bed at the center of the room.

"Did you not agree to sleep with someone tonight?" Elijah throws this at me, his tone oddly knowing like he's got the inside scoop on why I'm here. It angers me, suggesting he knows the real deal behind my presence.

"What do you mean?" I counter a little defensively. I'm not about to let on that he's hit the nail on the head.

"Enzo brought you here, you showed up, so I figured you knew what this was about. Thought you two were planning to... you know," he trails off, his hands finding their way to my shoulders, gently nudging me to sit on the edge of the bed.

Elijah's voice cuts through the haze, tinged with a sympathy that feels out of place. "Look, you're not the first one he's roped into his twisted games." His words trail off, leaving an unspoken offer hanging in the air. It's enough to loosen the tension coiling in my spine. "Need a drink to process all this?" He's casual, like we're discussing the weather, not the messed-up tradition I've encountered. I nod, my mind racing. What happens now? If I don't end up in Elijah's bed, does my payment get axed? There's supposed to be a rule, right? Services exclusive to the payer. But who am I kidding? There's no such clause in this messed-up arrangement.

Staring at him, I can't help but wonder – would sleeping with this guy really be such a disaster? He's got this raw, animalistic vibe like he's barely holding himself back. It's unsettling yet...not entirely unappealing.

"Cheers," he toasts, our glasses chiming a sharp, almost ominous sound. I take a generous gulp of the whiskey, feeling the burn slide down my throat. Distraction, that's what I need.

"So, what's the thrill in this twisted game of yours?" I blurt out, not particularly interested but desperate to fill the silence. Enzo's words echo in my mind – no escape until dawn. The man across from me raises an eyebrow, a silent acknowledgment that he's onto my act.

"The game?" he repeats, playing coy. I just nod, impatient. "Tradition, I guess. It's always been this way." His answer comes too smoothly, too rehearsed. I'm not buying it for a second.

"Let's cut the crap. You don't need some twisted game to jump each other's bones," I scoff, downing the rest of my drink. He doesn't miss a beat, topping up my glass with another generous pour. Elijah leans in, a hint of conspiracy in his voice.

"It's not just about the sex. It's about doing it without the guilt, without the sneaking around." I stay silent, letting him spill. "Outside these walls, it's a game of secrets and lies. In here, they can chase what they really crave."

"And what's that? What's the big prize?" I prod, curious despite myself. He smirks.

"Take Enzo and Valentina. He's always circling her, pretending it's all random. But even Silas sees through it. This game? It's their excuse, their free pass to go wild without the fallout."

I nod, smirking into my drink. Knew it.

"So, what's the deal with the rest of them?" I ask, trying to piece together the night's pairings. "And Silas? What's his angle?" The question gnaws at me, an itch I can't scratch.

"Oliver," he says flatly, or "Noah. Whichever one he can get his hands on, really." My eyes pop at that revelation. Suddenly, the whole twisted puzzle clicks into place. Silas, like the others, is here to feast on forbidden fruit. This game is their masquerade, a facade where they can devour their deepest desires. Who they want, who they shouldn't want – it's all laid bare in this warped playground.

I down my second drink in one go, the liquid burning a path down my throat, along with Elijah's revelations. It's a lot to swallow, figuratively and literally.

"What's your angle in all this with Mara? She seems like she'd rather be anywhere else," I prod. He tenses, his fingers raking through his hair, a telltale sign of discomfort.

"I love her," he starts, and I can tell there's a 'but' hanging in the air. "But our relationship has...boundaries. Things she's not into. This game lets us both have a slice of what we're missing."

"Things she's not into?" I'm drawn in, curiosity piqued.

"I've got...unique tastes," he admits with a knowing look. I'm burning to know more but decide to play it close to the chest.

"Like?" I press, curiosity winning.

He leans back, a picture of casual revelation. "I like my women submissive. Mara's anything but that." He sprawls on the bed, turning the tables. "What about you? You into submission?"

"Are you asking if I play the submissive part?" I shoot back, a challenge in my tone.

"Only if the answer is yes."

To be continued . . .