Page 90 of Rush of Jealousy

“I can’t wait for you to lose.”

He makes a face. “Haven’t you learned by now that losing isn’t what I do?”

I smile with all my teeth. “This shall be fun.”

17

It seems like a lifetime ago that we were dancing at the charity gala, and Graham was asking me inappropriate questions about my number of sexual partners. We joked about how Monopoly was not a real game and the alternative way I could pay for landing on his hotels if I ran out of money. I just never thought that our silly bantering would become reality. Today is the day—apparently.

Graham pulls out the brand-new game box from the bag and smiles brightly at me. “Ready to become a slave to capitalism?”

“What’s at stake?”

He grins. “I like how you think.”

“Well, I know you are all about winning. So it is super fun to get you to lose.”

“Touché. Are you up for adapting the rules?”

I think about it for a second. “What do you have in mind?”

“How about whoever lands on the opponent’s property will either have to pay rent or answer a question?”

I swallow hard. “Anything?”

“Within reason,” he clarifies.

“And the overall prize for the big winner?”

“How about whoever has the most money and property value at the end of an hour gets to decide how we spend the rest of the day?”

I let out the air I am holding, puffing out my cheeks on the exhalation. “Are you sure you want to play this with me? I am reallllly good at it.”

He looks at me as if I have ten heads. “So you are saying you are good at luck?”

I make a face. “Skill. I have skill. And sure, winner gets to plan the rest of the day, although that doesn’t really seem fair since I don’t know the area.”

“I doubt you’ll have trouble coming up with something.”

I rub my hands together, constructing a plan for if I win. “Do you think there are some male strip clubs out here?”

Graham shakes his head at me as if I lost my mind, and it makes me burst out laughing. “Well, that isn’t happening.”

“Oh?” I put on a straight face. “It will definitely happen if I win.”

“You aren’t going to win.”

“You may be able to control the stock market and all of your employees, but you cannot stockpile luck. Just get your dollar bills ready as backup.”

We slide down to the floor to sit on pillows and use the square coffee table to set up the board. He shuffles the yellow and orange cards, while I dish out the rainbow play money.

“I have your game piece,” he says, handing me a shiny trinket.

I look down at the tiny silver candy bar and then back up at him. “Huh? This is not one of the original pieces.”

“I had it custom made for you.”

I rotate my game piece between my fingers. “When?”

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