Chapter 19
Chapter
Nineteen
Luna
“I’m ready to go,” I tell Vince, who’s reading the sports section. On competition days, I like to give myself plenty of time to check in and clear my mind.
“Just a sec, I have something for you,” he says, folding his newspaper.
“What?” I ask hesitantly. Vince has made himself scarce after the whole boardwalk incident. Jesus, I’ve never seen him that mad.
He reaches in a bag, pulling out a jewelry box.
Curiosity gets the better of me, and I accept the box. Opening it, I find a silver half moon pendant. “It’s so pretty.” Is this his way of apologizing? A belated birthday gift?
“It’s a camera.”
Scrunching my forehead, I say, “I don’t understand.”
“Move your hair for me.”
I sigh, sweeping my hair to the side. He fastens the necklace, his fingertips dancing over my neck, causing my skin to pebble. Really hope he didn’t notice that.
“Earpiece.” He holds up a tiny thing that looks like a pencil eraser.
“Why do I need an earpiece?”
He doesn’t answer, leaning in, and I try not to squirm as he places the small device in my ear.“Are you going to fucking tell me what this is?” I snap.
“I’m coaching you through your tournament today,” he says matter-of-factly.
I cross my arms. “What the hell are you talking about? You don’t know jack shit about chess.”
He opens a laptop, a split screen on display. On the left, a chess computer program; on the right, footage being recorded from the necklace I’m wearing. “And I don’t need to know ‘jack shit’ about chess. I’ll be able to see your chess board via this necklace, and through the earpiece, I’ll tell you which move the computer suggests.”
“That’s not coaching; that’s cheating!”
“You call it cheating.” Vince shrugs. “I call it debt insurance.”
“Why can’t I play like I always have?”
“You always win?” he counters.
“Of course not.” I shake my head.
“Then that’s why.”
“But no chess player always wins,” I explain to him. “The higher the level of play, the more likely the game ends with a draw.”
My words fall on deaf ears as he fiddles with the equipment. “Testing,” he says, his voice sounding in my earpiece.
“I am not going to cheat!”
“Let’s go. I need to take you somewhere first, and then you can decide if you’re going to play ball,” he menaces.
“Is this where you take me to another construction site and dangle me over a pit? If so, save us both the trouble.” I cross my arms, pretending my heart isn’t beating frantically at the thought.
“You want me out of your life. I want you out of my life,” he says, and for some reason, that hurts just a little bit. “This is the fastest way. So, do we need to visit that construction site?”
“No,” I grit through my teeth.
“Then let’s go win that tournament.”
I’ve made it to the fifth and final round of the women’s tournament, with my opponent none other than Aspen. “Let the uncouth play begin,” I whisper, taking my seat.
She looks rattled as I extend my hand with a polite smile, and we shake.
The game commences, with an annoying Vince in my ear. Ignoring his suggested move—as I’ve done so all tournament—I go with a more aggressive strategy, locking in the move and noting it on my scorecard.
“That’s not what I told you to do.” Vince growls in my ear.
I have to bite my tongue not to smart off to him; doing so would surely raise suspicion. Aspen keeps giving me the evil eye as is.
She considers the board, as do I, focusing on my middlegame options. She plays 4.a3 to challenge my Bb4 bishop, looking rather confident as she locks in the move.
Vince is saying something, but I’ve tuned him out completely as I capture her knight.
Play continues, and I fall into the zone—nothing else exists except for me and this chess board. Mentally shifting to endgame, I capture her King. “Checkmate. ”
Recording my move, I extend my hand, and Aspen gives me an eat shit look as she extends hers as we shake.
After my picture is taken and the paperwork filled out, I make my way to the exit. The grand prize was $15,000, but more importantly, the points I earned get me one step closer to Grandmaster title.
“Cunt,” Aspen whispers as I pass her.
“See you next Tuesday. Oh, wait. I won’t. Because I got into the Vegas tournament and you didn’t.”
I exit the hotel, marching across the street to find Vince seated in the SUV. Silently, I get in and slam the door, ignoring him as I put on headphones and close my eyes….
Jerking awake, I panic when I find myself being carried by him through an empty construction site. “No!”
“You had one job to do?—”
“And I did it!”
“That job was to do as you’re told. Something you are apparently incapable of!”
We’re getting closer to a huge excavation pit, and damn if I’m going to end up in the bottom of it. I rear back and head butt Vince with everything I’ve got.
We both groan as his grip loosens, and I wiggle out of his arms, landing on my ass with an Ooff .
I scramble away from him, but he grabs my ankle and jerks me back, my face eating dirt. He yanks me up by my hair onto my knees, and I whimper. “Please don’t.”
He silently picks me up and tosses me over his shoulder, and I futilely thrash against the man. “Vince, stop!” I scream as he walks to the pit, turning around to where I’m looking death in the eyes. “Please,” I beg, clinging to the back of his shirt.
“Last warning. Do as I say, or I’m writing you off as bad debt. For good.”
A sob escapes my lips as he turns around and walks us back to the SUV .
I’m placed on my feet, and they immediately give out. Vince catches me before I fall, and I’ve never hated him more than I do in this moment.
We don’t speak on the ride “home,” and I toss Vince’s cheating devices on the coffee table.
“Luna,” he starts, but I refuse to make eye contact with the man as I storm to my room and slam the door.
I strip and take a shower, falling to the tile floor as I wrap my arms around myself—crying until the warm water runs cold.
There. Now that’s out of my system, it’s time to plan my next move. Vince thinks I’m oblivious, but after I came home from the boardwalk and he confronted me, I noticed his dick was hard. Figuring it was some kind of fluke, I was going to pretend I never saw it. That is, until I went to his room and heard him call my name while he was in the shower…
“What other kind of trouble can we get into?” Olivia wonders as we step out of the tattoo shop.
My phone buzzes in my purse. “Hold that thought.” Retrieving it, my new ink high whooshes out of me like a deflated birthday balloon.
Get your ass home NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
“Oh, shit. I forgot I have chess practice this afternoon,” I lie. “I need to go.”
“Boo,” Olivia says. “Don’t you get a break on your birthday?”
“No rest for the weary.” Or the extorted.
On the drive back to Vince’s, Olivia prattles on, and I murmur, “That’s crazy,” here and there, but I’m not really listening. Instead, I’m going over my case with Vince. I wanted to celebrate my birthday, and the tutor was a complete bitch. I mean, does Vince expect me to be a chess robot devoid of any personal life? It’s fucking unreasonable, is what it is.
Having settled that in my mind, Olivia drops me off at the end of the street. I lean over and give her a hug. “Thanks for the fun day.”
“Of course. And I’ll see you at my birthday extravaganza.”
“Sure thing,” I say, realizing that’s probably not going to happen after today’s little field trip.
“Love you. Try not to get mugged on your way back,” she says in a rush as I close the passenger door.
I hurry to Vince’s house, unlocking the front door with my key. The man’s waiting on me, and he looks angrier than I’ve ever seen him. I close the door and start, “Vince ? —”
“You know what bad debt is, piccola?”
Confused, I shake my head. “No?”
“Credit advanced to a debtor that is deemed unrecoverable. The debtor is unable to pay, or it’s not worth my time trying to collect, to name two examples. It’s a risk of operating on credit, sure, but when a debt becomes bad, I have to eat those losses. Do you know what happens to the debtor when I have to eat those losses?” His fury pins me in place.
“They die,” I whisper with a gulp.
“Mm-hum.” Vince advances while I backpedal, bumping into the door. He wraps his big hand around my throat, the vein in his forehead bulging. “Your debt is teetering dangerously close to the bad debt column.”
My eyes wide with fear, I reach up to pry his hand away.
“Take your dress off,” Vince orders.
“What?” I gasp.
“Don’t make me repeat myself.” He gives my neck a warning squeeze before releasing me, and I take in big gulps of air as I move my shaky hands and lift her dress up and over my head, clutching it to my chest. It’s deja vu, except this time, Vince has a wildness about him, like his cool and controlled facade is dangerously close to snapping.
Vince yanks my arms down by the wrists, his good eye taking in my string bikini top, and I couldn’t move right now, even if I wanted to.
He hones in on the bandage covering my ribcage tattoo—a look of rage washing over his face for a split second. Why, I don’t know. He silently reaches down and peels off the bandage; his expression now unreadable as he takes in my new ink.
I glance down to see what he sees, except my eyes catch something else—Vince has an erection. A huge erection.
“Vince,” I breathe, only because my voice seems to be failing me at the moment.
His good eye works its way up my body and locks with mine, the tension so thick I’m afraid it will suffocate me. “I hope your little furlough was worth it, because you’re on lockdown from here on out.” Vince spins around and stalks out.
Taking in a shaky breath, I walk to my room in complete shock. Vince was hard. Why was Vince hard?
Grabbing my phone, I search for angry boners. Turns out it’s a real thing and has nothing to do with arousal. As for why my pussy is wet, I frantically search for an answer, feeling relieved when I read an article from a shrink about how the body can confuse fear with arousal.
Tossing my phone on the bed, I pace back and forth before deciding that Vince and I need to have a chat. Not about angry boners and fear/arousal confusion—those two things shall never be discussed—but because if Vince thinks he’s going to keep me cowering in a suburban cage, he’s mistaken.
Marching to his room, I knock on the door.
Silence.
I knock again.
More silence.
I try the handle and it opens. Stepping inside, I can hear the shower, and while I should leave, this is the first time I’ve seen his bedroom, and I’m nosy. There’s not much personality to this room, but the same can be said for the entire house. No family photos. No personal mementos. I have no idea who Vince the man is, other than Parisi family bookie.
A loud moan startles me. I know I should leave, but curiosity gets the better of me, so I sneak over and place an ear to the bathroom door.
“That’s it, Luna,” Vince calls my name, and I place a hand over my mouth to stifle a gasp.
My mind spins. My nipples pebble. My pussy clinches.
“Fuck, Luna, I’m coming!” Vince roars, and I tiptoe-sprint out of his room, closing the door quietly behind me as I race to my room.
Leaning against my door with my chest heaving, I reach my hand down my shorts and strum my throbbing clit, swallowing my cries of pleasure as I come.
Vince wants me, and he’s pissed off about it.
As for me touching myself after the shower incident, I refuse to believe it’s because I want Vince, but if I did, I’d be pissed off about it too.
Stepping out of the shower, I squeeze my hair out and wrap a towel around my body, exiting my room and walking down the hall.
Vince is on the couch watching a game, and I ignore him as I stroll to the kitchen. Opening the fridge, I bend over to take a look at the bottom shelf.
“Don’t walk around my house in a towel,” he says with disgust, now standing in the doorway.
I turn around to face him. Unhooking my towel in the front, I ignore my jackhammering heart as I let it drop to the floor. “Better? ”
We both stand rooted in place, the air so heavy I can barely breathe. Vince’s nostrils flare as his good eye roams over my naked body, my nipples pebbled so hard they ache.
That same look of disgust spreads over his face as he storms out of the kitchen.
I smile triumphantly. Vince can pretend he doesn’t want me all he wants, but those gray sweatpants don’t lie. Grabbing a soda, I shake my naked ass to my room.
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how you lay a chess trap.
Vince
I feel so out of control with Luna, it scares me. Grabbing my phone, I text my fuck buddy.
If you want our arrangement to continue, get over here now.
I’m on my way.