He meets my gaze in the mirror, not flinching. “Depends. If this is about the numbers, they’re all fake anyway. If it’s about the charity, you should probably know I already reported it. If it’s about the mask and attire—” He touches the cheap thing on his face. “I don’t belong in this world.”
I allow myself a small smile. “You think you’re in trouble.”
He shrugs. “I know I am. Question is whether I walk out tonight or not.”
I want to laugh at the honesty. Instead I step closer, invading his space. His breath hitches, then steadies. “You’re smarter than you look,” I say.
He doesn’t back down. “I get that a lot.”
I watch the way his eyes flick to the door, then to the paper towel dispenser, then to the gap between my arm and his. He’s already figured out three escape routes, and he’s calculating my threat potential by the second.
“What’s your endgame?” I ask, genuinely curious.
He says, “I want to understand the puzzle. That’s all.”
He means it, too. There’s no power grab here, no moral crusade, just a desperate, driving need to solve what’s in front of him. I understand it more than I want to.
“Sometimes puzzles kill you,” I say.
He smiles, but it’s not a happy one. “Sometimes they set you free.”
I wonder which one he really wants.
I step back, giving him air. “You should be careful,” I say. “Some of these people don’t like being solved.”
He nods. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
We leave the bathroom together, side by side, neither of us speaking. The tension between us builds, becoming almost suffocating. I follow him back to the auction table, watching as he looks wistfully at the chess pieces that he could never afford.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?”
He looks up at me and the awe in his eyes nearly steals the breath from my lungs. I have never seen such raw emotion, much less when looking at me.
It’s enough to make me want to buy him the set, just to see that look in his eyes again. I miss the words that come out of his mouth, so lost in his gaze I am.
“You play?” I ask, motioning to the chessboard.
He nods. “I try.”
I pick up the white queen, turn it between my fingers. “The queen is the most dangerous piece,” I say. “But most people forget it’s the pawn that determines the game.”
He’s silent, thinking.
I replace the queen and nudge a pawn forward. He sees the move, understands the offer. We aren’t supposed to touch the pieces, but I’ve never given a fuck about the rules and I’m notabout to start tonight. The rest of the room fades as he makes his move.
We play in silence, each move a question, every capture a test. I let him win—barely. It’s important to see what a man does with victory.
He looks up, eyes wide and uncertain. “What now?” he asks.
I smile, teeth sharp behind the mask. “Now you see how deep the rabbit hole goes.”
He shivers, not from fear but from anticipation. He wants to know, even if it kills him.
I stand and offer my hand. He takes it. “Come. I want to show you something.”
This is how you build loyalty: not with threats, but with the promise of understanding.
As we leave the table, I know I’ve made the right decision.
