Page 12 of Stranded with My Mafia Boss

After I captured his knight, his initial overconfidence faded, replaced by a more serious demeanor as he figured out he was dealing with a real opponent.

"Feeling pressed?" I asked, innocence oozing from every pore, eyes big and eyebrows raised. I bit my lip to stop the smile when his jaw clenched just slightly.

"Pressed?" He scoffed, his gaze on my mouth. "You've merely caught my attention."

I lowered my lashes and examined the board.

When I moved my knight, Damien drummed his fingers on the table beside the board, considering his options. Watching him figure out that he might not walk away from this game as the victor filled me with an obscene amount of satisfaction.

"You’re an aggressive player," he said, but he didn’t seem put out. His tone was closer to a purr than anger. Oh, my.

"Yes," I said. "Aggression has its place—in chess."

"Very well," he said, finally making his move. His fingers brushed mine as he captured one of my pawns. The heat of his touch ran straight from my hand to my core. I fought the urge to pull back, not wanting to show any weakness in front of him.

"Your move." Damien stared at me, not the board.

I met his gaze, determined not to let him see how much he affected me.

Mistake. The look in his eyes ignited all my hormones in a bonfire. It took a moment to catch my breath.

"All right." I moved my bishop and threatened his remaining knight. "Your turn."

Our game continued, electricity dancing in every touch, every glance, every word spoken between us. Something forbidden and irresistible beckoned me. But I couldn’t afford to lose myself in those sensations. I needed to stay focused if I wanted to win.

"Is it too late to ask for a five-minute break?" I asked, feigning innocence as I looked up at Damien. He considered me over steepled fingers.

"Five minutes would hardly make a difference," he said. "I suggest you focus on your next move."

"Of course, Mr. Santini," I said sweetly, lifting my hand and moving my queen without breaking eye contact. Holy crap I’d been cool as a cucumber.

He shifted his gaze from me to the board and rolled up his sleeves. He frowned at the board as he revealed sinewy muscled forearms.

My mind went straight to a vivid image of him showering. Or stretched out in the firelight. Damn it.

"Interesting move," he said, his lips curling into a tight smile. I giggled at the sight—his smile looked more like a grimace than anything else. It helped to break the erotic tension in me as well.

"Thank you." I masked my amusement with a polite smile. "I do try my best."

"Clearly," he said. The intensity of his stare when he looked up from the board nearly sent me straight into the erotic tailspin again, but I held firm, refusing to break eye contact. He was testing me, trying to gauge my reaction, but I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of looking away.

"Your move," I nodded toward the board, gaze unbroken.

Damien leaned back in his chair, eyes calculating as he weighed his options, looking for a way to win.

"Very well," he said finally, setting up to try to take my queen.

"Is that all you've got?" I said, trying to keep the mood light despite the tension in the room.

He shot me a warning glance, but the corners of his mouth twitched upward ever so slightly. Even the great Damien Santini couldn’t resist a little banter during a heated match.

"You wouldn't want to poke the bear, would you?"

"Of course not." I feigned innocence once more as I moved my queen out of danger. "I'm merely trying to keep things interesting."

"Interesting indeed," he muttered, turning his attention back to the board. His gaze flicked between the pieces, searching for an opening, any weakness he could exploit. It was fascinating to watch him in action, the way his mind worked like a finely tuned machine. It was impossible to ignore the raw power and magnetism radiating from Damien.

"Your move," he said, a wicked smile playing on his lips as he took one of my bishops.

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