“I’m always black.”
She sinks into the seat opposite me, her tongue darting out to wet her bottom lip. “Of course you are.”
It soon becomes obvious that Imogen is much better at chess than she led me to believe. She takes my bishop. “Are you trying to hustle me, angel?”
“No, sir. I have no idea what you mean.”
“You said you don’t play very well, but I think you’re lying.”
Her green eyes sparkle. “I don’t lie, sir.”
I take one of her pawns. “But you are good at chess.”
“I suppose that’s a matter of opinion. My grandfather was very good at chess. He taught me the game, but I never won a single match against him.” She makes another move. “I used to beat his drivers a lot though.”
“Drivers?”
“Yeah, he had six.”
“Your grandfather had six drivers?” She hasn’t spoken of her past or her grandfather much recently, and I’ve been too wrapped up in this blossoming relationship between us to push her on it.
She nods. “He’s a very rich man.”
So, why didn’t he pay the Brotherhood off instead of handing you over to them? Piece of shit!I keep that thought to myself. Six drivers are excessive, no matter how rich a person is. “Six drivers? Did they all take a day each and have a Sunday off?”
Her eyebrows pinch together, making her frown look adorable, but she’s focused on the board now, concentrating on her next move instead of me. Still, she answers my question. “No, they all worked full-time. They were pretty much always around. I never really liked chess all that much, but my grandfather said it was good for me to practice, so he used to make them play me sometimes.”
So they weren’t drivers at all. Bodyguards. Security. For her or her grandfather, or both? “Did they drive you often?”
She glances up for a half second before focusing on the board again. “What do you mean?”
The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. These drivers were obviously an accepted part of her life and it strikes me as odd that they were referred to as drivers when they clearly weren’t. “It sounded like you spent time with them. Was it because they drove you places?”
“No. I never left the estate.” She makes her move.
I knew she was sheltered and I suspected that they tried to keep her from me, at least in the beginning when they knew I was still alive, but I had no idea her isolation was so complete. “Never?”
Her green eyes are wide when they meet mine. “No.”
I’ve researched her grandfather’s estate, which consists of forty acres of land in Nebraska. A big enough area for a child to grow of course, but that she never left it at all is unusual. “Didn’t that ever bother you?”
“I can’t leave here, can I? And that doesn’t bother me.”
I don’t know if that’s an accusation or her natural ability to speak plain, uncomfortable truths without any emotion. “But you’ve been here for five months. You were there for eighteen years. And you were a teenager. Teenagers are supposed to rebel and do crazy shit. You didn’t get to do any of that.”
“I wasn’t allowed to watch TV, eat candy, or even wear a tampon, Lincoln. What on earth makes you think I was ever allowed to rebel in any way?”
The skin at the base of her neck turns a light shade of pink, as her frustration starts to spill out. Until now, she’s done a great job of convincing Pierre and me, and probably herself, that her childhood wasn’t all that bad, that it was good enough. I’ve long suspected that wasn’t actually the case, even if she believed it was. “I’m not accusing you of anything, angel. I’m just trying to understand you, that’s all.”
She swallows, her slender neck working. “I didn’t know anydifferent. And I knew it was for my own protection. The Brotherhood were supposed to kill me when they killed my parents. My grandfather saved me. So it was either live on his estate, or don’t live, Mr. Knight. Those were my choices. Survive or die.”
I reach for her hand, squeezing it gently in mine. “I’m not trying to piss you off, angel.”
“Who said you pissed me off?” She shrugs, trying to wrench her hand away but I hold firm.
“You only call me Mr. Knight when you’re really annoyed with me.” Her eyes spark with defiance. “Because you know I fucking hate it.”
“I feel like you’re accusing me of being untruthful, and I’m not a liar.”
