Whoever this person is, they’ve helped me get through my week, and I owe them a thank-you. I’ve spent more time thinking about chess moves than I want to admit.
The walk to the east wing takes longer than I remember.
I pass the portrait gallery and look up to notice a large canvas of Louis that I missed before. It makes me take pause as I admire it in this low-lit light. He must’ve been in his early twenties, carefree, with eyes full of hope. That spark has disappeared.
My hand drifts up to my jaw, and my fingers press against the spotwhere he touched me last night. I can still feel the warmth of his thumb tracing along my cheekbone. We were so close that our breaths mixed right before Delphine’s voice ripped us from the moment. I drop my hand and shove it into my pocket.
I have to stop daydreaming about Prince Charming before he destroys me like the fuckboy he is.
With a shake of my head, I continue to the study and run through what I’ll say to my opponent. When I arrive, warm light spills out from the gap underneath the thick oak door. I can hear a fire crackling and the soft clink of a glass against wood. Someone is inside, and they’re waiting for me.
I check my phone and see it’s 8:58 p.m., which means I’m early, but so are they.
I lightly tap on the door, then push it open with a grin already forming on my face. At the mantel stands a man—tall, with messy hair. He turns from the fireplace, and every word I was going to say disappears. Louis is holding a glass of bourbon, and the firelight lights his face. When his eyes meet mine, he goes completely still.
We stare at each other while the fire pops and hisses behind him. The smell of woodsmoke and aged whiskey fills the space between us. I stand in the doorway with my hand still on the brass handle, wanting my brain to catch up to what my eyes are seeing. I ask my heart to be still.
He’s my chess opponent. He wrote those notes.
“You,” I finally manage.
He sets his glass down on the mantel, like he’s buying time to process this revelation. “Seriously?”
The silence stretches between us. I should say something smart, but instead, I’m replaying every charged note we exchanged, every move on that board. The person who challenged and matched me, who kept me up at night, strategizing, was him the whole time.
“Too many invisible strings keep pulling us together.” He takes a sip of his bourbon.
“Why do you think that is?” I ask, stepping inside and closing the door.
“You’re my karma.” His mouth curves into a smirk. “For breaking so many hearts.”
“Yikes. I’m so sorry. Condolences.”
“Appreciate it.”
The chessboard sits on a small table between two leather chairs. The pieces are exactly where they were in the nook. The last three days, I memorized the positions and ran through every possible scenario. He’s trapped, and I wonder if he knows it. Of course, he does; he’s brilliant.
“I can’t wait to watch you lose,” I say, smirking with a brow popped.
He pushes off from the mantel and moves toward me. My eyes scan down his body. Tonight, he’s wearing a light sweater and jeans. It’s casual, relaxed, even for a royal.
“Should’ve known you’d talk shit, like your asshole brother.”
“Actually, I make Patterson seem calm. It’s in my bloodline,” I throw back. “Get ready to get your ass kicked, Princey.”
“Do you play everything like you have nothing to lose?” He stops a few feet away.
“The answer is yes—because I don’t.”
“Everyone has something to lose, Addison.”
“You only get one life, Louis. Make it count,” I say.
I see him slightly chew on the corner of his lip, and it sends heat across my skin. Suddenly, I’m replaying last night, knowing I shouldn’t do that.
But what if …
That’s the question that keeps repeating in my mind.
