A blush spreads across her cheeks, turning them a delicious pink. “Trying to,” she admits, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Not that I’ve found any yet.”
I can’t help the smile that tugs at my lips. “Everyone has weaknesses, Alina. Even me.”
She looks skeptical but says nothing, just shifts on the couch to make room for me.
“Are you up for another game?” I ask, nodding toward the chessboard already set up on the table between us. “I’m thinking we should make it more interesting tonight.”
She tilts her head, wariness creeping back into her expression. “Interesting how?”
“New stakes,” I explain, settling into the chair opposite her. “If you win, you get to ask me three questions. Anything you want, and I’ll answer honestly. If I win…” I pause, watching her tense up. “I get to ask you three questions. Same rules apply.”
Alina’s teeth catch her bottom lip as she considers my offer, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. I can practically see the calculations running behind those blue eyes—weighing risks against rewards, trying to determine if this is some kind of trap.
“I’ve never won against you before,” she finally says, her voice small but not defeated.
“Then you have nothing to lose, do you?” I counter, already setting up the pieces. “Unless you’re afraid of what I might ask.”
The challenge hangs between us, and I watch her spine straighten ever so slightly. There’s a fire in her I’ve glimpsed only in flashes, buried beneath layers of caution and fear. I want to see it burn brighter.
“Fine,” she agrees, lifting her chin with a determination that makes my blood heat.
I hide my satisfaction as I finish arranging the pieces. “White moves—”
“First,” she finishes while moving into the chair opposite me. “I know.”
Her first move is textbook. Pawn to e4. Her fingers linger on the piece after setting it down, as if unsure she’s made the right choice. I counter with my own pawn.
Tonight, I’m playing a different kind of game. One where losing is winning, where every captured piece brings me closer to what I really want—her questions.
I watch her study the board, her brow furrowed in concentration. She’s been reading, learning. The chess book wasn’t just for show. She moves her bishop out next, a decent early development that tells me she’s absorbed at least some basics from her studies.
Or maybe it’s from our many games. It’s been almost a week of nightly games by now. And while she’s not advanced by any means, she learns from every mistake and tries new ways of attack with each game.
Alina captures more of my pieces, and before long, she says, “Check.”
I feign surprise, moving my king out of danger with an exaggerated sigh. Inside, I’m counting moves, calculating exactly how long to draw this out before allowing her the victory I’ve already decided to give her.
Six moves later, she’s taken my queen and my two knights. Real confidence blooms on her face, caution giving way to focused determination. She sits straighter, leans forward more eagerly. I find myself fascinated by the transformation.
“You seem distracted tonight,” she observes, her voice neutral but her eyes sharp. “Long day?”
I capture her bishop, a move that appears aggressive but actually opens a path for her to corner my king. “You could say that.”
“Is it…” she hesitates, moving her rook precisely where I want it. “Is it something I should be worried about?”
“Worried that I’ve lost my edge?” I ask, purposefully misunderstanding her question about my work. “Maybe you’ve just improved.”
She shakes her head slightly, unconvinced but unwilling to challenge me further. Three moves later, she slides her queen across the board and looks up at me with wide eyes.
“Checkmate,” she whispers, almost like she can’t believe it herself.
I study the board with a show of surprise, then lean back in my chair with a low chuckle. “So it is,” I concede, watching her reaction carefully. “Well played.”
The smile that spreads across her face starts small, hesitant. Then deepens until those dimples carve into her cheeks like something claimed. It changes her. Softens her. Makes her look open in a way she doesn’t realize.
For a second, I forget the strategy. Forget the plan. I just want to see how easily I can make her do it again.
“I believe you’ve earned your three questions,” I say, pouring us each a glass of whiskey from the decanter on the side table. I hand her one, our fingers brushing in the exchange. “Ask away.”
