Page 88 of A Game So Reckless

At least I can exert some tiny measure of control over what’s happening inside this room now that he is gone, so I try to focus on that. I return the chess board to its place on the table. There’s a big crack down one side of it now. I can’t fix that, but I can put all the pieces back.

So I do. Carefully. Slowly. Making sure every piece is in its proper place, precisely in the centres of their squares. When it’s finished, I let my gaze linger on the chessboard, wondering if I never should have touched it tonight at all.

He only plays for keeps.

My fingers are restless. My skin itches everywhere. Now that I’ve cleaned up the chess set, I need to move onto the next task. I can’t just stand here in this quagmire of anger and arousal and doubt. I’m almost frantic with the need to keep going now that I’ve started. To maintain my independent inertia in the vacuum of Darragh’s absence.

Refocusing that energy, I turn my attention towards myself. My appearance, specifically. I spend at least five minutes smoothing and inspecting my dress. Making sure none of the red stickiness coating my inner thighs is showing through the fabric, and that every zipper and hook is correctly fastened. Then, I try to fix up my hair as much as possible without a large mirror. Attempting to apply fresh lip gloss, however, proves impossible. My hand is shaking.

I keep on going. I wipe down the chair, but overall it looks like it fared alright. There’s no blood on it that I can see, nor any other fluids. I guess the condom helped with that.

I retrieve my purse and then finally locate my ripped panties. I hurl them into the garbage can by the desk. They land on top of Darragh’s tied-off condom. Jesus. Could it be any more obvious what happened here?

Luckily, the garbage can is lined with a small plastic bag. I tie the bag up so it’s ready for collection by the staff and no one will see what’s in it.

The entire time I’m busying myself with these little tasks, the small box Darragh pushed into my hand sits on the desk where I set it down after locking the door. It’s small. Black. Discreet and unobtrusive. And yet it’s got the presence of a blaring neon sign, sucking my gaze towards it over and over again.

I almost leave it there.

But at the last moment, right before I unlock the door, my hand goes towards the box instead of the doorknob I was aiming for. I pick it up and open it.

Lamplight catches, spins, and then refracts inside the most magnificent diamond I have ever seen. It’s massive, and so flawlessly cut it could probably make most jewellers cry at the mere sight. I think this shape of diamond – with one heavily rounded end and one sharply pointed one – is usually called a pear cut. But to me, it looks like a tear drop.

Tears were streaming down my face the first time we met.

And then again in his cottage.

He’s the only man I’ve ever sobbed in front of.

And he said it fuckingshreddedhim.

The diamond isn’t pure white. It’s actually a stunning yellow, so vivid it nearly looks gold. This effect is only amplified by the warm, gleaming gold of the band beneath.

It’s absurdly beautiful. So extravagantly perfect I almost want to laugh.

Or throw it against the wall in a fit, just like Darragh did with the chess.

I don’t do either of those things. In the quiet hush of that locked library, where nobody can see, I put it on.

Even the fit is flawless. My throat snags painfully as I try to swallow.

How dare he?

How dare he do what he’s done and leave me here with a ring so achingly perfect it’s causing me physical pain?

I have to see him.

I don’t even know what I’m going to say. If I’m going to scream at him. Hug him. Throw the ring in his face. Tell him that if he goes to Ireland, he has to take me with him. Tell him to never come back.

I don’t even know how long he’s been gone since he left me. Twenty minutes? An hour?

He could be on a plane by now.

I rip the ring off my finger, put it back into the box, then stuff the box into my clutch.

And then I’m off like a shot, praying I don’t snap an ankle as I unlock and open the door and then sprint right through it. The other room and halls Darragh and I came through together swim past me in inky stripes.

My progress slows considerably when I reach the ballroom. There are many more people here now than there were before. Twisting masks and painted faces surround me, phantoms and jesters and queens.

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