Page 13 of Stranded with My Mafia Boss

After consideration, I slid my rook into position with a confident smile. Surprise filled Damien's eyes as I countered his long-term strategy, maintaining my lead in the game.

"Didn't expect that, did you?" I asked, trying to sound innocent but unable to hide the hint of mischief in my tone.

"Perhaps not," he said grudgingly, his fingers drumming on the table as he studied the board intently. The sound was rhythmic and hypnotic, making me more aware of my heartbeat.

He finally moved his knight, trying to close in on my castle, but I had already anticipated his plan. I swiftly captured his piece, placing it beside the growing collection of his fallen soldiers on the side of the board.

The frustrated heat in his eyes made me pause. While it was nice to have the upper hand, especially against someone like Damien, this might be too much of a good thing.

"Indeed," he said. Two moves later the tension between us grew thicker, almost palpable.

"Check." I positioned my bishop to threaten his king. Holding my breath, I watched as realization dawned on Damien's face.

"Very clever." There was a glint of admiration in his eyes, but it only made him more determined to win. "Our game is not yet over."

"Of course not," I said breathily, catching the double meaning all too well. "But I've got you on the ropes now."

"Perhaps." His fingers hovered over the board as he contemplated his next move. When he finally moved his king out of check, I nearly squeaked in excitement as he fell into my trap.

I pushed my pawn forward, and Damien's eyes widened with surprise, and something else, a flicker of heat that made my heart flutter.

"Bold," he said, the ghost of a smile touching his lips, and for a moment, I caught a glimpse of a different man beneath the cold, ruthless exterior. Just as quickly, it vanished, replaced once more by the calculating expression of a predator sizing up its prey.

"You don't seem like the type to appreciate a timid opponent." Hopefully, that would soothe his ire at being beaten.

"True enough." He moved his queen forward to take my pawn. "But sometimes, boldness has…consequences."

With trembling fingers, I reached out and moved my queen, placing her two squares away from his king. Any move he made to escape her was threatened. "Checkmate," I said, my voice barely audible but carrying the weight of victory within it.

Damien simply leaned back in his chair, regarding me with an intensity that made my blood run hot and cold all at once.

"Very impressive," he said at last, the words laced with both respect and something else, a dark, almost predatory hunger. "I underestimated you."

The silence that followed as I tried to find a response stretched on forever.

"Tell me." His voice was low, seductive, anddelicious."How did you get so good at chess?"

I swallowed hard, trying to find my voice amidst the whirlwind of emotions churning inside me. "My brother Max and I used to play when we were younger." I forced myself to meet his intense stare. "When he’d have a flare-up, chess was one of the few things we could do together. Turns out I’m good at it."

"Interesting," Damien barely blinked as he studied me. "You've got quite a talent for it. It's not every day that someone beats me." His words were tinged with admiration and something darker, more possessive like he was claiming some part of me as his own.

I shivered, but not with cold, unsure what to do. I had no experience with a man looking at me like that.

To try to lighten the mood, I glanced at my phone. "We were playing for hours, it’s already supper time."

He eyed my lips. I had a pretty good idea of what he was thinking was edible at that moment.

I headed for the refrigerator, babbling as I went. "Sandwiches again?"

"Certainly. While you prepare them, I’ll open a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon that would be perfect for celebrating your victory."

"Um, sure," I said hesitantly.

Making the sandwiches took almost no time at all, and he opened the bottle to let it breathe.

"Sit," he said softly, gesturing toward the plush sofa as I carried the two plates back. I moved to the seat before the fire, my chest heaving as I watched him pour two glasses of wine. The deep red liquid shimmered in the dim light, reminding me of the metaphorical blood that had been spilled in our game.

"Here." He handed me a glass. "To your victory."

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