“About you.”
His eyes lift from the board and find mine. In this light, his eyes are almost navy, and I can see the fire reflected in them. Twin flames.
“Care to explain?”
“No.” I smile sweetly and reach for my knight. The move taunts his queen.
His brow furrows as he traces the new threat. His jaw tightens because he didn’t see that coming. I pulled it from left field because I can’t lose this.
The game stretches on for forty-five more minutes. The fire burns down to coals, and the room grows darker, more intimate. We’re both down to a handful of pieces now, circling each other on the board, looking for an opening.
I study him while he thinks. Above his left eyebrow, he has a tiny scar, and I wonder where it came from. His brows make a perfect arch, and his bottom lip dips in the middle. Even though he’s polished, under the surface, there’s something else. I saw it last night on the balcony, and I see it now. Louis is nothing like the playboy the tabloids describe him as. He’s broken so many hearts because women legitimately fell in love with him.
There is a difference between who he is, who he’s expected to be, and who the public believes he is.
He moves his rook. “Your turn.”
I look at the board and see the opening I’ve been waiting for. He left his king exposed. If I sacrifice my remaining knight, I can force a sequence that corners him in five, maybe six moves.
My fingers close around the knight. It’s a risk. If I’m wrong about the sequence, I lose my best piece and probably the game. But I’m not wrong.
I set the knight down in the path of his rook. It’s a sacrifice I’ll take.
He takes it without hesitation but gives me a cocky grin.
I don’t react. I move my bishop instead, sliding it across the diagonal to pin his rook to his king.
His grin fades as he slides one of his knights.
I move my queen. “Check.”
He slides his king, which is the only option.
I move my rook into position, and my trap closes around him.
His eyes scan the board, looking for an escape that doesn’t exist. His fingers drum once against the arm of his chair.
“You sacrificed your knight,” he says.
“I did.” I pick up my queen and hold her for a moment, letting him sit with it. “That’s what made it work.”
I set her down three squares from his king. “Checkmate.”
The word settles between us. He stares at the board for a long moment, his expression unreadable, and then he laughs. It’s not the polished laugh I heard at the party. It’s real, surprising, almost delighted.
“You beat me twice in one night.”
“Honestly, you should be better at this. You kinda suck.”
“Excuse me? I do not.”
“You lost twice!”
He shakes his head, still looking at the board, like he can’t quite believe what happened. Then he gives me an evil grin. “Now tell me your favor.”
“Wait.” I glare at him. “Did you let me win?”
My pulse kicks up.
