Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
E MERALD
A minute later, I sit on the bed across from him, the chessboard a battlefield between us. The board was one of the things I packed when I ran away, and I’m looking forward to this game—and to winning.
The room is dimly lit, casting shadows that dance over the polished pieces. Saint has a stern expression as he studies the board with an intensity that feels almost palpable.
As he and I make our moves in turn, I can sense the wheels turning in his mind, each click and clack of the pieces like a countdown to an inevitable conclusion. He told me he can’t play chess, so I’m surprised he knows even the basics, but I guess a lot of people do know something about the game from playing it a few times when they were a kid. He even knows a few good moves by the look of it. But despite that, he’s got no chance with the advanced strategies I’m putting into play here.
My hand hovers over my knight, debating my next move. I know the importance of each decision—how every piece I move shifts the balance of power on the board.
The knight feels like a good choice, a chance to disrupt his play.
But as I glance up, his eyes meet mine, and there is a flicker of something, making me hesitate.
Finally, I make my move. The knight leaps forward, its path a daring curve around his pawns. Confidence surges within me.
He doesn't hesitate, doesn't even pause to consider. His bishop glides across the board, capturing my knight with a grace that feels almost effortless.
Frustration lodges in my throat, but I swallow it down. I can't afford to lose focus now.
My fingers tap lightly on the edge of the table as I scan the board, searching for a new plan of attack. My queen stands tall, a beacon of strength and potential. Maybe she can turn the tide.
I push her forward into the fray, but he’s already a step ahead of me. His rook slides into place, cutting off her escape.
I can see it now, the trap I’ve walked right into.
His strategy is flawless, each move a calculated step toward victory. I realize that I've been playing into his hands all along.
The game continues, each turn a blow to my defenses. His pieces close in, and my king is forced to retreat, cornered by his relentless advance.
My mind races, searching for a way out, but the options are dwindling.
He leans back slightly, the hint of a satisfied smile playing on his lips. He's got me. And he damn well knows it.
The endgame is swift. His queen advances. I see the checkmate coming.
I try one last desperate move, but it's no use. His rook slides into place, and my king has nowhere to go.
"Checkmate," he clips.
He’s beaten me .
I just stare at the board, wondering what the heck just happened.
"Well played," he says, though I can hear the smugness in his voice.
“How did you do that?” I blurt out. “You told me you can’t play chess.”
“No,” he drawls, “I said I didn’t play chess. And I don’t. This is the first time I’ve played in a very long time.”
My jaw drops. “You lied again…”
“No, I didn’t.”
“But why would you even do that?”
“To learn your favorite plays and your preferred strategies.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean?” I ask.
“You’re on Chessgenius.com all the time, and anyone can watch you there to learn all about your game.”
“ You’ve been stalking my games ?”
“Stalking is an exaggeration, so don’t flatter yourself. After all, every single game is made available for the public to watch.”
He’s been watching all my games? Learning my moves and tactics all along? “You’ve been studying my game, while I know nothing about how you like to play. That’s tantamount to…to…cheating.”
“Hardly. Anyway, it’s not my fault that you didn’t see through what I said.” His voice is beyond smug and triumphant.
I glare at him. “Being a beautiful liar isn’t something to brag about.”
He quirks an eyebrow at me. “You think I’m beautiful?”
“In your dreams, Valentino,” I bluster.
“Anyway, you’re too trusting,” he drawls.
“You’re too manipulative!”
“That’s what playing a game is all about. Manipulating your opponent so that you can win.”
“Not everything in life is about manipulation, Valentino.”
“Maybe not. But it sure makes life a hell of a lot more interesting.”
This infuriating man . I should have avoided him right from the start. Because Saint Veneti is a beautiful liar and a goddamn genius rolled into one.
I narrow my eyes at him. “ Can I punch you yet ?”
But he just chuckles in response. “We’ve got an engagement to plan first.”
My face falls. I’d forgotten all about the bet while I’d been focusing on the chess.
It's a bitter pill to swallow, but I can't deny the skill and strategy he’s displayed. As I gather the pieces, I replay the game in my mind, each mistake glaring and obvious in hindsight. Next time, I tell myself—next time, I'll be ready.
The game may be over, but the battle between us has only just begun…