As Mr. Garin contemplated his next move, I turned my head toward her.
She wore a tight pink dress of sequins, glittering in the dim glow coming from the sconces on the wall, and her ass was planted on some little prick’s lap whose name I didn’t know. Her boyfriend across from them, on the edge of the black leather couch, watching his buddy putting his hands on his woman. I observed them, trying to put myself in each of their skin.
Did she like another man touching her? Was her boyfriend jealous? Turned on? Angry? Was his best friend living out a long-held fantasy for her? Was he enjoying this? Was he hard?
I blinked, waiting for it to come. His jealousy. Her degradation. His desire. Their fear and excitement at being watched.
But it didn’t come. Not yet. It was getting harder and harder to empathize over the years.
Fuck.
Maybe if it was my new little wife being fondled?
Or…
The guy touched her hips lightly and hesitantly as his mouth grazed a path across her shoulder, probably trying to hold back so they didn’t know how much he was enjoying himself.
“Can we leave now?” she asked me, the man underneath her not giving the slightest hint he wanted to leave quite yet.
But I ignored her, turning back to the board and seeing that Mr. Garin had matched my move with his pawn to E5.
I smiled to myself.
“Look closely,” he continued. “You can still get me. Ten moves.”
Ten? I grabbed my knight and moved it to F3, hearing Mr. Garin let out a sigh as he plucked his knight and sat him back down in C6 as if on auto-pilot.
“Damon…” he scolded, growing angry with me.
I could hear it in his voice, and my pulse raced a little as he continued the game, going through the motions as if we’d gone ’round and ’round about this for years, and he was done with my bullshit mistakes and impulsiveness. He just wanted to get the game and his inevitable win over with so he could get back to work now that my head wasn’t in the game.
My bishop to C4, his pawn to D6, my other knight to C3, and as he reached for his bishop, I stopped breathing as I watched him move it to G4, pinning my knight to my queen.
You idiot. That actually fucking worked, and he didn’t see what he’d done yet. I moved my knight to E5, snatching his pawn and leaving my queen completely vulnerable to his bishop. He saw the opening, shook his head, and captured her, removing her from the board and moving his bishop into my queen’s spot.
My heart jumped into my throat. He thought he had me.
But it was my move now, and as soon as I moved my bishop to G7, I had his king in fucking check.
He paused, realizing what had just happened and re-examining the board. His eyes flashed to mine.
As expected, he tried moving his king to E7, but the look of defeat was already in his eyes.
I slid my knight into D5. “Checkmate,” I said.
He stared at the board, scowling like he wasn’t sure how that just happened. “Seven moves...” he mumbled.
Yeah.
Not ten.
His eyes darted up to mine. “You hung your queen. I didn’t teach you to do that.”
Just then there was a knock on the door and my driver moved to open it. Erika Fane entered, and I stood up, fixing my jacket as the driver closed the door behind her.
“The queen is the most powerful piece on the board,” I told Mr. Garin, keeping my eyes locked on Rika’s. “Why not use her?”
Rika, the fiancée of one of my high school friends, stepped farther into the room, looking ready for anything except a night at the club. A smile tugged at my lips. Her tan baseball hat sat low, casting a shadow over her eyes, while her long, blonde hair spilled down her back. She wore jeans with the hood of a gray sweatshirt sticking out the back of a tan jacket, her hands tucked into the pockets. She stopped when I started to approach, no doubt trying to keep a safe distance.