“Drop it, Viviana.” I clench my jaw. “You won’t like what you discover.”
“That’s for me to decide. You want me to be yours.”
“You. Are. Fucking. Mine.”
Leaning back, she rests her arms on the armchair, tapping the fabric, appearing like a queen on a throne. “Well, I come with demands. I want to get to know you. The real you. I’ve been friends with Evie for so long, and yet she clams up when it comes to family topics. That tells me it’s bad. And I didn’t need much to figure out you’re protecting her.”
My teeth grind together hard enough to break a molar. I hate that I’ve failed to protect my sister from the horrors of this fucking life. I’d take the pain from her if I could. But she’s cursed to live with the nightmare, just like I am cursed to live with failing her.
I move the rook, wanting to focus on the game, to win, to feel the rush of victory numbing everything else.
She falls silent for a while, and then she whispers, “I’m terrified of my father.”
I hold the conquered pawn so tight it might crack under pressure.
“Which is absurd because everyone knows I’m his favorite. His good girl who can do no wrong. He would have a heart attack knowing what I am doing now.”
“Did he—?” I expel a long breath to gather myself and not hop in the car to end the bastard for frightening her.
“My sister took the brunt,” she sighs, hugging herself. “But I fear facing that side of him and disappointing him.”
“We’re wired to love our makers regardless of what they do.”
If that’s not cruel, I don’t fucking know what it is. We need them for survival, even though they are the ones who can break us like nothing else.
“Did you love yours?”
I pin her with an intent look, so she stops. “Viviana.”
“Tristan.” She holds my stare, not intimidated in the slightest, amplifying my awe.
Eyes locked, a stubborn expression stretches across her features, urging me to give her something. “My mom abandoned me. My father cared about nothing else but himself.”
He searched for my mother for years until he found them. He was about to kill his own daughter, thinking Evie wasn’t his. I can’t recount the sordid family tale to the woman I wish to seduce. She’ll want to save me when there’s no saving me, no part left to redeem.
“Thank you.”
She moves her queen diagonally, capturing my bishop before searching my eyes. Bold move. Smart strategy, and it doesn’t apply only to chess.
My skin tightens around my bones. She’s trying to read me, crawl inside of me, and uncover my darkest, deepest secrets.
No one ever dared to study me in the open like she does—unafraid, determined.
“How do you sleep?”
“By exerting myself until I can’t keep my eyes open anymore.” Then I know I won’t be trapped by the past, at the mercy of my demons.
“You’re highly functional then.”
Such observational skills. It’s almost a pity she wants to become a preschool teacher. In the right hands, she could be a terrific weapon.
We continue to play. She proves to be quite an opponent, but my brain swiftly calculates the variables, and I get her in check.
“Impressive,” she says, realizing she’s cornered.
“The queen always protects the king, knowing once she falls, the kingdom falls. Checkmate.” I smirk.
“Ambitious. Driven. Focused.” She’s enumerating stuff as if searching for a potential diagnosis.
