Page 48 of Love Is A Draw
She nodded.
Victor inhaled through his nose. “I always thought he sent me away to keep me safe. I never realized he did the same for you.”
“He protected those he loved, even if it meant risking losing us both.”
“I’m not his grandson. Not his family.”
“He loved you like family, though,” Gail said.
He looked down at the tea. “He told me to go to Paris and London. Said there was no future for me in Odessa. I thought it was punishment for not being good enough.”
She smiled, thin and tired. “You always were dramatic.”
That made him laugh—a soft, surprised sound. “And you were always the one who listened from the other side of the wall.”
“As a girl, I had more than virtue to lose if I’d been found. I didn’t have a choice.”
“Neither did I. We both grew up with our existence risking our lives. What a macabre farce.”
She looked at him then, noting the lines at the corners of his eyes, the careful way he held the cup as if it might slip if he didn’t concentrate. He wasn’t completely confident anymore. But he was here. That meant something.
“Why didn’t you finish your studies with him?” she asked hesitantly.
Victor hesitated. “Because I was angry. At him, at the world. He wouldn’t let me publish. Said it was too dangerous. I wanted to take my notes and send papers to theChessman’s Chronicleand other publications. He said the wrong people might use my ideas for power. I didn’t understand then. I do now.”
She leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “That’s why you stopped writing the ledgers but still cling to the old ones?”
“Yes. They hold wisdom.” His mouth twisted. “But it was so easy for List to steal the old ones, so I stopped creating. I just… replayed what I’d already done in my head. Still do.”
“Until now.”
He met her gaze. The air between them grew taut with recognition. “I don’t want to leave.”
“I don’t want you to either.” Gail swallowed the glob in her throat.
Her hand rested on the table, close to his. Not touching. Almost.
Victor set down the teacup and took her hand. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Gail blinked. “Tell you what?”
“That you were afraid. That someone might try to send you away.”
She swallowed. “Because fear follows me everywhere. If people knew who I was—who my grandfather is—List could use it. He’s done worse to others. That’s why the Pearlers can’t bring my grandfather openly to England. Every step leaves a trace, and traces give men like List power. I wanted at least one corner of my life untouched by that.”
Victor reached across the table. His fingertips grazed hers, the barest touch, and yet it sent a current through him sharp enough to steal his breath. “This isn’t fear. You’re protecting your life. It’s survival.”
She didn’t pull away.
The space between them tightened, charged. No kiss came. No declaration. Just skin against skin—honest, fragile, profoundly true. And somehow it carried more weight than any embrace could have.
“I should go to sleep,” Gail whispered, though she didn’t move.
The tournament would predict their future, not what was between them. People like them, no matter how smart or accomplished, bowed to circumstance and could rarely shape their own fate.
Victor didn’t answer. His chest ached with the wanting. He only thought—fiercely, hopelessly—stay.
She had gone.Not far—he could still hear the whisper of her footsteps retreating down the corridor. The chair where she’d sat held the heat of her presence like a brand.
