Page 8 of Capturing Victory

Conversation had been stilted and minimal as though Ivan were distracted. Each time he’d sent another sari to her room with instructions that she prepare to meet him. After their second meal, Jaya found her annoyance rising. She wasn’t able to gather much information during her outings. A guard came to pick her up and escort her to Ivan, then curtly turned away to pretend he wasn’t there during their meal. Then they’d sit in virtual silence while Ivan studied her across the length of the table as though attempting to decipher a particularly difficult puzzle. Jaya was starting to think of these meetings as some of the weirdest dates she’d ever been on. And she’d been on some pretty bad dates given her tendency towards antisocialism.

This was their third night together, her third summons. She impatiently pulled on the sari, barely glancing at the shimmering green fabric in the mirror before yanking a section strategically across her bared belly. She slid her feet into the matching flats and stomped to the door to wait for her escort.

Jaya strode across the pool deck, the place she was beginning to associate with seeing Ivan. It was where his man brought her whenever she was summoned. She glanced around, annoyed, searching for him. He was usually out here before her, waiting for her arrival. She was about to ask the guard where Ivan was when she spotted his tall, dark-haired form clearing the stone staircase opposite her.

She crossed her arms and glared at him as he approached. His own gaze roamed over her, as though he were starving for the sight of her. She knew he didn’t like this growing dependence he seemed to be developing for her, because his frown was almost as fierce as hers by the time he drew close.

“You have something to say to me?” he asked.

“How long are we going to play this game, Ivan?” she demanded, and before he could ask her to explain she continued her tirade. “Where you summon me from my cozy little dungeon with all its wonderful amenities, force me to dress in traditional Hindi clothes and drag me into your exalted company as if I’m here for your amusement, which, based on what I’ve seen so far, has a fifty percent chance of ending in my death. Because I have to say, this is starting to get old.”

The clench of his jaw and flash of his eyes told her she’d angered him. She half expected him to retaliate physically, the way he had with the servant during their first “date.” Instead, he did what Ivan did best, he used words like poison darts, each one burying themselves in her skin. “You will watch your words, Jaya, lest you find your dungeon shrinks to the size of a cage and your amenities need be bought with favours rather than simply given by my grace. Your presentcozinesscan easily be remedied. Never forget that.”

She shuddered and bowed her head, giving him a slight nod. For the most part, she’d lived on her own for many years, free of interference. She used her quick, intelligent mind to absorb and learn everything she could about the world around her to avoid situations like the one she was currently embroiled in. There was a reason she never worked for organizations or governments. Jaya didn’t want to have to account for her words or actions; she wanted to live free. She knew what it was like to fall victim to the hatred of men.

Now she was finally caught. Crushed under the heel of a criminal mastermind, a man who was simply curious. A man who would probably forget about her the moment she stopped amusing him. She glanced past him at the table. This time, instead of food, there was a chess board laid out, all the pieces in place.

“Ar-are we playing chess today?” she asked him hesitantly.

He didn’t say anything for a moment, simply studied her face as she warred with herself. She really did hate Ivan. He’d stolen her freedom, murdered someone in front of her and bullied her every chance he got. Yet, he was an extremely intelligent man, the head of one of the world’s most powerful criminal organizations. The thought of pitting her mind against his was… exhilarating.

He strode to the table and pulled a chair out for her. “Come, sit,” he commanded.

Jaya took the chair he offered, shivering slightly when he ran his long fingers through the thick fall of her hair. His people had provided her with a hairbrush but no ponytail holders. She had asked, but her request, like most of them, had fallen on deaf ears. His people looked through her, like robots, only responding with slight nods when she asked for something they could actually provide. After the death of the waiter, she understood why. Interest in her could be fatal.

Ivan took the seat opposite her and sat with a relaxed posture she couldn’t hope to emulate around the terrifying man. The table they were sitting at wasn’t their usual dining table, but a smaller version. They would be able to reach the chess pieces easily. The white pieces were facing her. Before Ivan could prompt her, Jaya reached for her queenside knight and moved it over the pawns and onto the board.

He arched an eyebrow and for a moment she could swear he fought not to lift the edge of his lip in a smile. “A bold move, Jaya,” he said, his voice almost chiding. “I wouldn’t have expected it from you.”

“And why is that?” she asked coldly.

He moved a pawn, clearing his queenside rook for easy movement. A common first move. “You’ve spent most of your life moving in the shadows, running and hiding, perfecting the art of protecting yourself at all costs.” His grey eyes snapped up, pinning her to her chair. For a moment she feared he saw everything and terror unlike anything she’d felt swamped her. Would he reach for a knife? Gut her like he’d murdered that servant on their first night together? He continued, “You set defenses up all around yourself, hide behind your computers and your programs. At the expense of real life experiences.”

Jaya glared at him and moved a pawn away from her castle. “Real life is overrated. It got me kidnapped.”

“Perhaps your lack of real world experience is what prompts your bold play,” he murmured as he studied the board. “I wonder, Jaya, are you so bold in other forms of play? I admit, I’m intrigued by the thought.”

“While nothing about you intrigues me,” she snapped in a rush, her face heating as she allowed anger to control her words. She knew better than to provoke him, but she hated how he controlled her every move, how he attempted to learn things about her, to predict her. He was right, she did hide in the shadows, set up defences. And he was also correct, on an ordinary day she wouldn’t play a bold game of chess. But Ivan was pissing her off, pushing her, making her unpredictable.

He ignored her outburst, instead he continued to move his pawns, creating a defensive barrier around his king. They maintained silence while Jaya played recklessly and Ivan played cautiously. She was beginning to think Ivan was playing differently than usual as well, luring her in with his cautious textbook moves before he showed his true strengths. The hallmark of a true predator; patience.

“Tell me more about your family,” he asked in a musing voice.

Her head snapped up from the chess board and her concentration scattered. She stared at him for a full minute before she could find her voice. “Why?”

He stared back, his expression coolly disinterested. He lifted an eyebrow and glanced at the board. “Your move, Jaya,” he said chidingly.

She barely looked at the board as she moved a piece and slammed it down. “I don’t like to talk about my family. You know that,” she said gritting her teeth and trying to control the tears that rushed forward. They were tears of frustration more than anything because Ivan was using her dead family as a way of getting a reaction from her, of rattling her. He was a formidable enemy and she was weakening under the onslaught of his quick mind. And the sad part was, Ivan didn’t need to do much to rattle his victim. A word here or there sufficed, and he was winning the war through a ruthless psychological campaign. Ivan was turning out to be a master manipulator, one that Jaya might admire if she wasn’t so wholly under his power.

“Nonetheless, I want to know about them,” he said, taking one of her pawns off the board with his rook. “Or more accurately, I want to know how you look and how you sound when you talk about them.”

She clenched her fist in her lap. “That’s some Silence of the Lambs creepiness right there, Ivan. Maybe you should work on sounding less psycho when you talk to women. Then you wouldn’t have to resort to kidnapping to get a date.”

His eyes narrowed. “This isn’t a date. If it were, you would finish the evening in my bed.”

“You keep threatening me, yet still we continue this sick poolside parade,” she snapped, her heart pounding furiously. Though he hadn’t moved and everything about him portrayed cool disinterest she couldfeelsearing, angry heat pouring across the table and washing over her. He wanted to attack her, tear into her. Perhaps beat her, perhaps fuck her. Or maybe both. The more she was getting to know this man the more she was learning about his contradictory nature. She suspected few got close enough to find this out about him.

“Start talking or wewillend this date the way I’ve wanted to for a while,” he said, his tone as steely as the grey in his eyes.

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