Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Tristan
“No, too soon,” I grunt, back in my white shirt and black slacks, sleeves rolled up to my forearms as I sit across my woman with a chessboard between us.
We are in the library, next to the bedroom.
Two walls are lined with floor-to-ceiling shelves, filled with books of all kinds, and I added more based on the research Kathy did into what twenty-two-year-old women currently liked, cross-referenced with what Ella told me she was into.
I did not know if that was cocky of me. Already making room for her in my house.
That is why I had not introduced her to this room before today.
What if she thought I was just another jailer waiting to trap her in a golden cage?
Hell no. The moment I opened the door, her pupils dilated, and she tilted her head adorably to the side, reading each spine, the tips of her fingers grazing the manuscripts. Fifteen minutes later, here we are.
I’m teaching her chess, mostly as an excuse not to lose control over her post-shower blue cotton pajama set.
Pants and a long-sleeved shirt that, sorry to admit, leave nothing to the imagination.
Or too much. It is debatable. Given the state of my hunger for her, which I suspect will remain endless even after decades by her side, I will have to find ways to keep myself in check. So chess it is.
“When you bring the queen out too early, you give me an opportunity to take her, and you don’t want that.
Here.” I point at the knight. “He protects her in an L shape. Look.” I demonstrate the move, and she watches, focused, although I catch her eyes drifting to the veins of my arms and combust with joy at the fact that I am not the only one dying with desire.
“But how can you move if you only use your pawns?” she signs, eyebrows drawn into the sweetest soft junction I would very much like to kiss. “Everywhere I go, you’re there. How can you anticipate so much?”
“It gets easier. I”ll teach you, and soon you’ll beat me.
” At least, I hope I can deliver on the whole teaching-chess aspect, because having an opponent at home would be very enjoyable.
Then again, I have never shared anything about my life, let alone a hobby, with another woman.
She glances up, her hand curled into a fist below her chin.
Why do I like seeing her annoyed? I won’t lie.
It is not unattractive. “The game isn’t won by chasing the king on the first move.
” I tap one of her pawns with the tip of my finger.
“It’s won by forcing your opponent into decisions they don’t realize they’re making.
Kind of like a funnel.” Her gaze follows my hand back to the board.
“You’re thinking about where you want to go.
” I move one of my own pawns to a single square.
“I’m thinking about where you’ll have to go after that.
” She watches silently. “Most beginners focus on the move in front of them. Strong players look three, four, sometimes ten moves ahead. In a way, every piece protects another piece, and every square you abandon becomes a breach someone can use against you. You have to be careful. Every move counts, even the small ones.” I point toward her knight.
“This one is my favorite, see, he doesn’t move in a straight line.
Look.” Her gaze burns my skin, and I want it.
No, I crave it. I was wrong. Making money is great.
Running an empire has perks. But holding her attention is the real deal.
“He reminds me of someone,” she signs, raising her brows dramatically.
I smirk. “I figured.” She laughs without making a sound, and I am the richest man on the planet.
“The knight’s job isn’t to win the game.
” I rotate the piece between my fingers before placing it back on its square.
“He is there to protect.” I wave a hand.
“Guarding the queen, standing between a potential threat and the king, or…” I clear my throat, a strange sense of prophecy falling over me.
“Or sacrificing himself so the rest–so the most important piece–survives.” Immersed in the game, she doesn't seem to catch on.
The fact that I would fall for her if needed, and with my chest held high.
“And the queen?” she signs. “Do you just…wait? How do you play her?”
“Toward the end, usually, but it depends. That’s for every player to decide.
” My eyes meet hers. “She’s powerful, so she’s a main target.
” I slide her queen back one square. “You have to be careful, sweetheart. Just because she’s powerful doesn’t mean she’s not vulnerable.
Uncover her too soon, and you lose her.” Understanding flickers across her face, and I like it.
How focused she is on learning a game I have enjoyed since I was a child.
How she lets me open the door to another side of myself, a place no one has gone before.
“It’s like…life,” she signs. I catch her gaze, elbows on my thighs, saying nothing because nothing needs to be said.
Ella is my soulmate, through and through.
We are just catching up on a lifetime stolen from us.
I have always thought about chess as the rules of life, and she just saw it too.
Nate sees it as a game. My father saw it as a way to exercise control.
Ella, Ella always manages to surprise me.
“Yeah, I…” I swallow. “Yeah.”
“It’s all about balance, right? Existing without attracting too much attention while still gaining territory. If you’re a silent, calm opponent, you can win without the other person thinking he could ever lose.” She nods at the board, like a lightbulb has just turned on in her head.
“I think I get it.” I lean back in my chair, still wondering why on earth there are people walking this world holding a grudge against this angel.
“Once you get it, winning gets easier.” She studies the board again.
“Is that why you have a hard time trusting people? Trust no one. Is that what you believe?”
“Maybe.” I look toward the window, where the clear, sanguine sky seems to dilute, trading itself for a dark navy February shade.
“Not exactly.” I inhale. I don't talk about my father every day.
Actually, if I could never do that again, I would be more than fine.
Still, there are things she has to know.
I did not want to make things about myself these last weeks, given her state, but I am watching her right now.
Her cheeks are plumper, her lips fuller, her hair shining with paint strokes of moonlight, and I cannot see her clavicles as much anymore.
“That’s what my father used to tell me. Don’t trust anyone.
At first,” a metallic taste fills my mouth, “I didn’t know any better.
Turns out there are a lot of people ready to stab you in the back, but there are also good people, people who actually want to see you succeed, you know?
My associates, my execs. People I learned to trust, like Matt and Brenton.
If you trust no one, at some point, not only you end up alone, but you will have succeeded in driving away even the ones who wanted to stand by your side.
” I move her knight to shield the queen. “Like you said, sweetheart. Balance.”
“I wish you could let your guard down sometimes.”
“I do.” My eyes soften.
With you, Ella.
With you, I leave my armor at the door.
My fingertip rests lightly against the carved horse.
Her eyes lift to mine. I nudge the knight forward.
Silence settles between us. She looks back at the board, then suddenly reaches for her bishop instead of the queen.
Her hands stop midair, playing invisible piano above the pieces.
A tug of her torturous lips, and she moves the bishop diagonally, pinning my knight against my rook.
I blink as she folds her arms, absurdly pleased with herself.
“You got distracted,” she signs, far too pleased.
“I did,” I grunt, cracking my knuckles. She bites the inside of her cheek, trying to repress a smile, and if I could encapsulate this view to replay it over and over, I would.
“Well done, sweetheart.” I oblige, moving from my seated position to kneel next to her, face-to-face with the masterpiece she is.
Goosebumps bloom on her skin as I come close.
She inhales, and I can see the shake of her lower lip.
Subtle. Yet definitely there. “Progress should be rewarded, don’t you think? ”
“Mm-hmm,” she hums silently, but I see her throat move with it. As well as the color rising in her cheeks, which is almost enough to undo me.
“Would you like a reward, sweetheart?” She looks away, flushed, breathing harder, managing a shy nod.
I have been holding back. Ever since I met her, even before her captivity, I have been holding back.
Tonight is different. Tonight, she seems stronger, coming into who she is becoming after this traumatic experience.
There’s a fire in her eyes pointing toward a place where more could exist. It’s palpable, drawing me to her, as if she is silently begging to be acknowledged as a woman, and not a captive, or a maid, or a stepdaughter forgotten in the abyss of affection.
I am here.
I am catching her and swimming with her to the shore.
I want to be the man she trusts to do so.
I want to show her what we could be and all the worlds she has yet to discover.
Worlds where pain and care balance on a thin line without ever losing the purpose of offering her the solace of abandon and the pleasure only souls that recognize each other can create.
“Do you trust me?”
“Yes,” she says.
“I want to kiss you, Ella, and…” I wince, looking away for a second. “And show you so much more. But first…first, I have to show you what it’s like. What I’m like.”