Page 48 of The Devil's Pawn

We eat in silence, but there’s a subtle shift. It’s comfortable rather than excruciating. After three and a half weeks of angst, I’m entitled to an hour of peace. Being in a state of constant conflict is exhausting. Nothing’s changed when it comes to Alexander and me, but everyone deserves a little vacation. This is mine. As soon as the game of chess is over, normal business will resume. I’ll make sure of it.

Tossing his napkin on the table, he stands. “Ready?”

“Yeah. Get ready to have your ass beaten.”

He tilts his head. “Sounds like fun.”

His response shocks me so much, I jerk back. “Did you just make a joke?”

“Perhaps I did.” Sweeping past me, there’s a notable lift to his shoulders, as though he’s proud of himself. I follow him to the library, where a chess set I don’t remember seeing last time I was here is set up on a table in the middle of the room, a chair on either side.

“Did you plan this?”

“Yes.”

His honesty surprises me. Then again, I can’t think of a single time Alexander has lied to me. Avoided replying to a question he doesn’t want to answer, yes. But outright lying. It’s not him.

“What if I’d said no?”

“Then, you’d have missed out on a game of chess, and I’d have carried on with my day.” He holds out a chair, waiting for me to sit, then takes the one across from me. “I’m glad you said yes, though.”

“Me, too.” The admission is out before I can swallow the words. It’s true, but I hadn’t intended to tell him that. “I’m lonely, so I guess your company is better than no company.” I mean it as an insult, but his twitching lips are a sign he hasn’t taken it that way.

“I’m honored.” He lifts one eyebrow and shows me his palm. “Ladies first.”

I make my first move. He makes the same move, as he does with my second, third, and fourth moves. By the fifth, I sigh.

“Are you mirroring my moves?”

“No. I’m countering. What will you do next, Imogen?”

A chill runs through my veins. Is he talking about chess or our marriage? Does he somehow know my plans and whyI’m making myself as irritating as possible to him? I study his expression, but he’s not only a master of chess; I bet he makes a great poker player, too.

I bring my knight into play. It’s the wrong move. Two maneuvers later and it’s checkmate.

Blowing out a breath, I flop back into my chair. “This game is so hard.”

“If it were easy, it would be boring.” His eyes lock onto mine. “Don’t you think?”

I’m unsure if we’re still talking about chess, or he really does know what I’m up to. Until he outright confronts me, though, I intend to continue.

“Again.”

He smiles, and it’s such a rarity that I stare and stare and stare. I’m even more confounded when he follows the smile up with, “That’s my girl.”

During the hour, we get through a total of four games, and with each one, I improve. The final game lasts a full twenty-five minutes, and even though he beats me, I’m proud of myself. If I keep studying and practicing, one day, I will emerge the victor. At chess and in relation to our marriage.

“I have to go.” He rises to his feet. “Good game, Little Pawn. We’ll make a chess master out of you yet.” After crossing the room, he pauses on the periphery. “There’s a ball this evening. My father hosts one around this time every year. It starts at eight o’clock in the ballroom.” He runs his gaze over me. “I look forward to seeing you there.”

Before I can question him further, he’s gone. At least he told me himself, and with more than an hour to spare. That’s progress.

Except there’s only one kind of progress I’m looking for. The divorcing kind.

Right?

Yes.Yes.Nothing has changed. Sure, I’ve just spent an enjoyable hour in his company, and yes, there’s a subtle shift in our relationship—so subtle I can’t describe it—but the plan remains. I want out of this marriage. I want to take up the position with Zenith and forge my own path in life. If he’d agreed to let me work for one of the De Vil companies, maybe I could have steered the conversation around to Zenith, but he’d outright refused without discussion.

The plan stays.

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