“Please sit,” he offers, gesturing to the chair behind the white pieces.
“Bossy.”
“I saidplease. Would you like something to drink?”
“How very polite of you. Yes. A proper pour, please,” I say.
He grabs the bourbon and pours a glass for me while refilling his own.
“Thank you,” I offer, shooting the entire thing back, needing to relax.
His eyes widen. “You’re something else.”
“You are too.”
I sit, and he sinks into the chair across from me. The intense eye contact he’s giving me sends a jolt through me.
“It’s your move. Please hurry,” I tell him as the bourbon mixes with my blood. “You’ve been edging me for days.”
He looks back at the board. His king has one legal move, one squarehe can escape to, and we both know it leads to nowhere. I wait for him to reach forward to touch his piece, but he doesn’t.
Instead, he places the crystal of bourbon to his lips and takes a slow sip.
“Play, Your Highness,” I say between gritted teeth.
“No, thank you.”
I glare at him. “You literallyhaveto move.”
“I don’thaveto do anything I don’t want to do.” His eyes continue to hold mine.
“That’s not how chess works.”
“In Montclaire, that’sexactlyhow it works.”
“So, you’re refusing because you’re losing?”
“Nope.” He leans forward, removing some of the space between us. I can smell the hint of his cologne. “I’m refusing because once I do, you’ll win, and then the game is over.”
“That’s the point.”
“It’s not.” His voice drops lower. “When the game is over, you’ll go back to your cottage, and I’ll still be here, wanting more time with you. I’m not finished with you yet.”
My pulse is loud in my ears. “So, we sit here and stare at one another all night?”
“We could.” He smirks.
“You’re an asshole.”
This seems to please him.
I stand and pour more bourbon into my glass, then return to my seat. I lean back into a more comfortable position and let out a controlled breath as I meet his eyes. It’s the last thing I should’ve done because he captures me in his spell. My face relaxes, and I don’t want to be the one to look away, not this time, not even if my entire body is on fire.
“You’re playing games,” I whisper.
“You are as well,” he says.
“Ah. Then I suppose you’ve also met your match.”
