“Indeed, I have.” He leans forward and picks up his king, only to tease me with a move.
The game is just the game. But this room, the fire, and the way he’s undressing me with his eyes—it’s something else completely. This man unravels me in the worst possible way.
He returns his king to its original square. “Why didn’t you tell me you painted the subway collection at the gallery?”
The fire flickers, casting shadows against the wall. Every few seconds, it crackles. The clock on the mantel ticks, and I wonder how old it is. I contemplate his question and give him the real answer.
“Because I don’t need recognition. And most people aren’t completely honest to an artist’s face. They’re kiss-asses. I prefer real opinions.”
“I made a fool of myself,” he says.
I shake my head. “You told your truths. Isn’t that more valuable? Even if you said I stole souls and painted them.”
His blue eyes darken, and I see the edge of his mouth quirk up. “You do steal souls, Addison.”
“Watch out. I might steal yours,” I say with a wink.
“Ahh, part of me feels as if you already have.”
My heart races as I stare at him. “Your fuckboy lines won’t work on me, Louis. Try harder.”
“Sure about that?”
He moves his king, and I let out a sigh of relief.
“Fuck. You’re irritating sometimes,” I say, sliding my bishop into position. “Check.”
“Oh, the American plays by the rules and politely calls check. How lovely of you.”
I scoff. “Are you shit-talking me, Princey? Your move.”
He chuckles and returns back to leaning. “Let’s make a deal. I’ll make my next move, and you can have your win.” He leans closer. “But I want an immediate rematch.”
“And if I refuse?”
“Then I sit here all night.” He squeezes gently. “Refusing to move for eternity.”
A log shifts and sends sparks up the chimney, and I’m suddenly aware of where I am. And that we’re alone.
“Is this against the rules? Will I get in trouble for spending time with you alone?”
His brow perks up. “I’m thirty-six years old, Addison. That’s fucking hilarious.”
He studies the board even though we both know there’s only oneoption. His fingers hover over his king for a moment before he moves it to the corner.
I pick up my smooth ivory queen, and she is cool against my fingers. I hold her for a beat, letting him wait, then set her down three squares from his king.
“Checkmate,Your Highness.”
He exhales through his nose and grins, but this time, it’s real. “Well played.”
He holds his hand out, and I take his, shaking it.
“Thank you. You have no idea how hard it is for me not to gloat,” I tell him.
“Help yourself,” he tells me.
I stand up and do a victory dance. “I beat you! I beat you so good. Ha-ha-ha! In your face.”
