Page 10 of Capturing Victory

“You will sit quietly on my lap and play the game?” he asked. “No more outbursts.”

“I’ll be good,” she said, trying to sound as if she meant it.

He eased her off the table, untangling his hand from her hair and gentling his grip. Jaya shook her head a little, amazed that she was unhurt. His hold had been tight, but he hadn’t ripped any of her hair or even bruised her arms. In fact, he’d been incredibly careful, skillfully taking her down without so much as disturbing their chess game, despite her struggles. Though the thought had occurred to her before, it became starkly apparent now, that this man could do absolutely anything to her, quickly, ruthlessly and she would be helpless to defend herself.

“Sit, Jaya,” he said, resuming his own seat and pulling the chair back to the table.

Gripping the edge of the table she lowered herself gingerly onto his lap. He took her hips in his large hands and moved her until she was settled with her back against his shoulder. Then he pulled the table closer so they could both reach the chess pieces. Jaya expected to feel uncomfortable, and part of her hated the way he held her trapped between him and the table, her legs between his. But she wasn’t exactly uncomfortable. His thigh was hard and muscular, but not rigid against her ass.

“Your move,” he whispered, his breath touching her shoulder, making her hyper-aware of their proximity.

She glanced at the board, uncaring of the outcome of the game so long as it ended soon. She reached for a pawn, but his voice stopped her. “If you throw the game, then we’ll play another and another until I’m satisfied I conquered you in a fair game. I want to see you fight for your life, Jaya.”

She gritted her teeth, closed her eyes for a second and moved her hand from the pawn to her queen, changing her original move. Ivan was always several steps ahead of her, picking through her thoughts, blocking her strategies. When she set the queen down, trapping his rook in a corner, he splayed his hand across her belly, running his thumb over the bare skin.

“Good girl,” he murmured. “The win will be so much more satisfying for the fight.”

Sick fuck, she thought to herself, trying to keep the words from bursting forth. She shifted in his lap, trying to find a better position. His body stiffened for a second, his hand tightening on her stomach. A vibration seemed to go right through him, like a small jolt. The tension released slowly and he reached for the board without studying his move the way he’d done when she was sitting across from him. Her mouth nearly fell open when he moved his rook out of the path of her queen… and into the path of her castle. She raised an eyebrow and held her breath, wondering if he would notice his mistake. He pulled his hand back from the board and settled it on his thigh, right next to her knee.

Keeping her face averted, Jaya smirked. Perhaps sheshouldbe courting his attentions, apparently the distraction made him careless. She swept his rook aside with a flourish. He said nothing but continued to play as though he hadn’t lost an important piece. Jaya continued to shift in his lap, occasionally brushing her arm against his or tossing her hair back against his shoulder. She could tell by the gradual stiffening of his body that she was affecting him.

Within minutes she had the upper hand. Several of his pieces, including both of his castles and a knight were in her possession. In fact, she was a little disappointed. Ivan had shown better strategizing than this in every aspect of his life. How was it possible that she could dominate him on the chess board? Finally, she was setting his queen up for a fall, when he murmured, “Watch your back, sweetheart.”

Taking him literally, Jaya looked at him over her shoulder, frowning. He reached over her and took her white queen out with his pawn. Her mouth fell open. She’d been so busy trying to maneuver him into a corner she stopped paying attention to one of his least important pieces. She should’ve known better. Once her queen was gone, he systematically took out each one of her pieces before she could recover from the loss, then he pushed her king into a corner. It was a hard-fought game, but she suspected the conclusion had always been foregone. Ivan didn’t lose and he didn’t get distracted, not even by his captive.

“I am not so much of an amateur as to be taken in by a beautiful face and curvy body,” Ivan said coldly, taking her king, though the move was unnecessary as the game was already over. He’d done it to prove a point, to show her she was truly beaten. His arm tightened ruthlessly around her stomach and he pulled her back against his chest, speaking rapidly in her ear, his accent more pronounced than ever. “Every move I make is a calculated step to force your hand, to force you to show me what you’re made of, Jaya. I’m learning everything I can about you, and you are making it so easy with your childish plays.”

“Ivan,” she gasped, her voice barely a whisper. “I can’t breathe!” She gripped his arm in both hands and pulled, trying to get him to stop squeezing. Despite the cold delivery to his message, he was rattled. Something about her shook him up.

He released her, moving his arms so abruptly that she nearly fell off his lap. She reached for the table, gripping it and sucking in deep breaths of air. She turned her head to look at him, her dark hair spilling across her back and arm, the sun beating down on top of them. Tears of anger sparkled in her eyes. “You may be a manipulative asshole who’s learning everything you can about me using disgusting, degrading methods,” she snarled. “But I’m learning about you too, Ivan.”

“You think so, little girl,” he said, his voice cutting like ice. She knew he was close to the edge, knew she shouldn’t be pushing him.

“Oh yes,” she said, her desire to strike back making her reckless. “Your accent tells me you’re probably of Balkan descent, not from Switzerland, where you like people to think you were born.” His face grew stony and if she had an ounce of self-preservation she probably should have quit speaking right then. “Given your age and shitty attitude, I would say late 70’s, Bosnia. I’m guessing, given the style of the times, you were likely somehow involved in uprisings, rebellions, mass killings, all that good stuff. But what side were you on, Ivan? Did you fight for independence, for your country’s right to be free or did you help hand it over on a platter? Is that what turned you into this cold, unfeeling monster?”

She would have said more, but Ivan exploded out from underneath her, shoving her against the table. She turned and brought her arms up to defend herself, positive he was about to murder her, but Ivan was striding rapidly away, leaving her and the scattered chess pieces for his man to deal with. Staring after his departing back she realized that Ivan just gave away more than he ever had before. Without words, he confirmed her guess.

Chapter Seven

It wasn’t working.

He was spending time with the woman and he still couldn’t figure out what it was about her that he wanted. Couldn’t figure out why he cared. She wasn’t an enigma, wasn’t special. She was easy to read. Like a clock, he knew exactly what made her tick. He could predict down to the last detail what motivated her, what enraged her, what saddened her and what made her happy. She should be boring. Another useless, pointless, slightly skilled sheep.

But she didn’t bore him. She fascinated him. And though he could predict her every move ten steps before she made it, he still wanted to watch her take those steps. Because they were the most beautiful, sexy steps he’d ever seen a woman take and he was somehow utterly and completely obsessed. Obsessed with her mind, obsessed with her body. Obsessed with everything about her.

And because Ivan was an arrogant bastard that spent over a week mentally dissecting and tormenting the woman, he’d created an enemy. She feared and despised him, wanted no part of him. Now he needed to figure out how to manipulate her into caring about him. She was vulnerable, should crave companionship and acceptance after all these years of fending for herself. Perhaps the way to her heart was through a softer approach.

Ivan looked toward his security man. “Keane,” he barked. The other man looked up from the security report he’d been going over, outlining ways to strengthen the island’s defenses without drawing attention to their hardware. “You know much about women?”

Keane’s expression went quickly from bland to alarmed. Clearly the last thing he wanted was to give his notoriously ruthless boss woman advice. He cleared his throat and leaned back in his seat. “Uh, not really,” he said hesitantly.

“Well learn fast,” Ivan said coldly. “Because I want Jaya to warm up to me and I don’t think, given the way things have been going, that her emotions are leaning that way.”

Keane snickered. “You ain’t kiddin’ about that.”

Ivan shot him a look that wiped the laughter from his face and told him he’d better get working on the immediate problem of making Jaya soften up. Keane slumped in his seat and looked completely stumped. He was definitely a fuck em’ and leave em’ kind of guy. Ivan was partially responsible for that. Under his employment, women weren’t allowed on the island unless they were there to cook or clean and the men were under strict no fraternizing or die instructions.

“Ah, fuck me, boss,” he growled, his Irish accent even more pronounced than usual. “Don’t women like pretty, glittery things, like clothes and jewels and shit?”

---