36. Chess
Chapter thirty-six
Chess
I lean back in my chair, trying to appear nonchalant as I watch Addy beside me. They're wrong about her. She's not ice. She's made of glass, too fragile and too perfect, with an air of tension that wraps around her like a second skin.
Or, maybe it's plastic. Aside from the few moments of weakness she's given into me and Dre, she's shown us nothing real.
I've been observing her for weeks now. I've hacked into her devices. I've analyzed her life. What I expected to find were secrets, threads leading to the person behind the icy facade. But all I found was evidence of someone else's search for the same thing. Spyware. Advanced and anonymous. I hadn't been able to trace its origin yet.
But maybe I needed to make that a priority.
Because something is definitely off here. There's a puzzle here, and I'm missing vital pieces. She's not what they say she is. She's not even what she pretends to be.
The fact that she barely touches her tech, which is unheard of for our generation, is enough of a giveaway. When she does use it, it's like she's performing for some unseen audience—every message curated, every photo staged. Nothing personal, nothing real. It's all a fa?ade.
I watch as Addy picks at her dinner with limited interest. The dim light plays off her blonde hair but her eyes are full gems. She's like a riddle, and damn if I don't want to unravel every layer.
Beyond her Saint proves that he's just as intrigued by our little princess. His eyes are glued to Addy's hands as they move the food around her plate. When she brings a bite to her lips, Saint follows it.
He blinks, his focus shifting so slowly it's clear his thoughts were miles away—or rather, right beside him—when he realizes I'm watching him. He clenches his jaw, his cheek ticking with the force.
But his eyes don't leave her for long, tracking every bite she takes as if each one matters more than it should. Maybe it does. She's filled out some since he's taken it upon himself to feed her every day.
I'm about to snicker when Addy tenses even further. Her muscles are so tight it's a wonder she can even move. And, it doesn't take a genius to figure out why.
Her family, those supposed to be her sanctuary, gaze at her with eyes that hold no warmth, only a cold scrutiny that makes my blood simmer. I can practically feel the air crackling with an unspoken threat.
Yeah. There is definitely something we're missing.
There's more going on here than meets the eye. Saint's protective instincts are flaring, and I'm beginning to understand that Addy isn't just under surveillance by whoever planted that spyware.
The conversation shifts, but my mind stays on Addy. I need to find the spyware's origin. It's the key to understanding who's really pulling the strings in Addy's life. I have a feeling I know who, but we need to be sure.
"Are you going to make sure I chew properly too, or is that a special service I need to reserve?" Addy challenges out of nowhere.
I can't help the bark of laughter that leaves my lips. Unfortunately it also draws the attention of her family who look less than pleased we actually seem to be enjoying ourselves.
"I'm taking reservations now," he shoots back, the corner of his mouth lifting ever so slightly.
"Hm," she hums.
I shake my head, amused. Between my desire to peel back Addy's layers and Saint's quiet guardianship, this has become a game in its own right. And I'm all too eager to play.
I want to unravel her secrets. But I want another taste even more.
I slide my hand onto Addy's thigh under the cover of the tablecloth. I can almost hear the thrum of her pulse against my fingertips.
She stiffens beside me, a statue in the flesh, yet to anyone else, she's the picture of poise. No flinches, no gasps—nothing to betray the contact we share beneath the surface.
"Everything good?" I murmur, voice low enough for only her ears.
"Fine," she replies, clipped and cool as the ice clinking against the crystal stemware. She doesn't look at me, but I feel the tension rolling off her in waves, crashing against my resolve.
I trail my fingers higher, teasing the hem of her dress.
"Chess," she cuts in, her voice a warning wrapped in velvet. But I'm already lost to the impulse, curiosity piqued by the challenge she presents.
"Tell me no, Addy," I whisper, trying to coax the walls down brick by brick.
Her reply is silent, a sudden grab of my wrist as it inches too close to where the apex of her thighs hides beneath fabric. Her grip is iron, unyielding, and I'm caught—snared in the intensity of her green-eyed gaze.
There's a fire in those depths, one that warns me not to play games with something so combustible.
We're interrupted by the servers arriving to take away our plates. Before they have the chance to bring the dessert, Addy's chair pushes back. She stands with a grace that feels at odds with the tension radiating from her.
"Excuse me," she announces to the table, her voice even, "I need to use the restroom."
"Of course, dear," Mrs. Winthrop replies, her smile tight, eyes following me like a hawk tracking prey.
My gaze lingers on her as she walks away. The coil of anticipation unfurling in my gut tells me I won't be far behind. It's a game of cat and mouse, and I'm not sure which one I am.
Once Addy disappears down the hallway, I wait a few moments before excusing myself from the table. I'm eager to see what her next move will be.
The hallways of the Winthrop mansion are grand and luxurious, with ornate paintings hanging on the walls and quality marble underfoot. I find her leaning against a wall, her back to me. She doesn't turn around when she hears my approach.
"Are you following me?" she asks, her voice tight with unease. "Shouldn't you be at the table?"
"Shouldn't you?" I retort.
Addy stiffens at my touch but doesn't push me away. Her gaze flickers over my face, searching for something I can't quite decipher. "I wanted to make sure you were alright."
She snorts. "Right. Because that's exactly what you're worried about."
She's right. But I don't want to admit it. Instead, I take a step closer and lean against the wall, caging her in.
I lean in close to whisper in her ear. "Tell me to stop."
Addy shudders at my words, but there's something else in her expression now—a hunger that matches my own.
Without another word, I press my lips to hers in a fierce kiss. She responds eagerly, tangling her fingers in my hair as our bodies meld together in an intoxicating dance.