Chapter 11 Liam
Chapter eleven
Liam
The fireplace cracks and spits, throwing warm light over the four of us gathered around the coffee table.
Felix, who has apparently appointed himself entertainment director for this snow-in, insisted we go for a “little friendly competition.” Which translated to him digging a battered Monopoly box out of a cabinet with way too much enthusiasm.
"Friendly competition." Sure.
I watch Naomi roll the dice. They tumble across the board and land her neatly on Boardwalk.
Silas’s Boardwalk.
“That’ll be two hundred,” he smirks.
Naomi doesn’t flinch. She just counts out the paper money and slides it across the board, the corner of her mouth tugging up.
She's really enjoying this. Interesting.
Felix rattles the dice cup. “Your turn, Liam!”
I roll. Double sixes. Again. Third time in five minutes.
“He’s on fire,” Felix crows.
Naomi looks over at me. “You do realize that statistically, that’s ridiculous,” she says. “You’re awfully calm for someone cheating probability.”
"Internal satisfaction," I say, letting myself smile just slightly. "Takes less energy than gloating."
Her mouth curves. “Is that so? So what, you just save all your words for when you’re destroying people on the ice?”
I snort quietly. “I mostly just let my game do the talking.”
A small smile tugs on her lips. She holds my gaze a beat longer than necessary, and, for a second, something shifts… almost like we're actually connecting.
“Your parents must’ve loved the quiet,” she adds, moving her little metal car.
“Academics,” I answer. “Both of them. The house was mostly books.”
Her eyes light with interest. “That actually explains a lot.”
“Yeah?” I arch a brow.
“Well, you read like someone who grew up in a library,” she says. “And skate like someone who spent years escaping one.”
Felix laughs. “Whatever his upbringing, Liam's an alpha of many talents,” he says. “He’s got an engineering degree and everything."
Naomi’s gaze flicks between us, assessing. “Of course you do,” she murmurs, almost to herself. Then, a little louder, “Were you three already a pack back then, at uni?”
“We were,” I say, moving my piece. Her thigh presses lightly against mine when she shifts closer to see the board. She doesn’t seem to notice, but I do. “We were best friends in high school. And when we presented as alphas as we were about to enter college, packing up was just… obvious.”
“Huh.” She rolls again. “Must be nice when something is obvious.”
There’s a quiet there I don’t know how to unpack, so I nudge the question back. “What about you?”
She exhales. “My dad’s a surgeon. Mom’s a negotiator.”
Of course. That tracks.
“So high achievement was… expected,” I say.
“You could say that.” She lands on Go To Jail and slides her car to the corner, lips quirking. “I actually wanted to be a ballet dancer for years.”
Uh, interesting.
“What changed?” I ask.
“Pressure. Reality. Ballet doesn’t pay for a Manhattan apartment. Law does.” She lifts a shoulder. “And it turns out I like it. I like winning.”
Yeah. No argument there. It’s all over the way she holds herself, and the way she's playing now: calm, ruthless, calculating. She’s been quietly lining up sets the entire game.
She leans across the board toward Felix. “Trade you Marvin Gardens for your two oranges,” she says. “You need the yellows, anyway. Better shot at a comeback.”
Felix squints at the board, then at her. “You’re not trying to screw me, are ya?”
"I'd never," she says, pressing a hand to her chest in mock offense. "This is a win-win for the both of us."
I smother a smile. Silas doesn’t bother; he leans in, frowning. “Don’t do it,” he tells Felix. “She’s setting you up.”
Felix considers that. Then hands over the oranges, anyway. “Deal,” he says.
Naomi takes the cards, and I swear their hands overlap for a beat longer than necessary, and tucks them into her growing empire.
Silas grumbles. “You two deserve each other.”
She just beams and starts dropping houses on the newly acquired property. “Don’t worry, captain,” she says. “You’ll get your turn.”
He rolls.
Seven.
Right onto her fresh orange with three houses.
I wince. Felix goes, “Oof,” under his breath.
“Pays up." Naomi holds out her hand, palm up, fingers wiggling.
Silas glares at the board like it personally betrayed him, but he counts out the money anyway and he presses it into her palm. He doesn't want to let it show, but I can tell even he isn't immune to her charm when she lets it show. And that puck shot earlier? It definitely earned her some respect.
“Don’t get used to it,” he mutters.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” she says, her smirk back.
The game goes on for another hour. Or, more accurately, the slaughter goes on. Naomi now owns Boardwalk, Park Place, and all the railroads. She's ruthless, collecting rent with a cheerful, "Thank you, gentlemen."
Felix folds first, of course. He throws his last bills into her pile and flops back dramatically. “I’m ruined. Utterly ruined,” he declares, wrist draped over his forehead.
“Tragic,” she says, but she nudges his ankle lightly with her foot, a silent you’re fine.
I hang on a little longer, mortgaging half my side of the board until I hit her hotel on Park Place. There’s no coming back from that, and I just hand over my remaining cash. "It's been a pleasure," she says, not sounding sorry at all.
Then, it’s just her and Silas.
He’s gripping his top hat token, his jaw is tight, but there’s a stubborn light in his eyes.
He rolls.
The token clacks along the board and lands… on her railroad.
Felix snorts into his drink. I bite the inside of my cheek.
Naomi rubs her hands together. “Well, well.”
"Jesus," Silas grunts, passing a proud-looking Naomi the last of his cash.
Her fingers brush his as she takes the money. “Good game, captain,” she says softly.
For a heartbeat, his eyes meet hers, and I can see something in his face eases. “Yeah, well,” he says, clearing his throat. “Had to let you win. Hospitality and all that.”
“Right,” Felix says with a grin.
Naomi’s smile turns smug. Mine hides in my mug.
Right, indeed.