The Pawn (Endgame #1)(51)

“One of my best ideas.”

I don’t flinch on the outside. Inside I’m sick with caring about a man who manipulates me like a chess piece. My father? Gabriel? They have that in common, their heavy hands moving me around the board.

The pieces line up, so ordered and polite. The battlefield before there’s bloodshed. “I’m white.”

“You made the first move,” he says because I went to the Den that night.

He’s right about that. If I’d never done that, I wouldn’t have met Gabriel, wouldn’t have been put up for auction, wouldn’t be at his estate. Would I change it, if I could? I would have lost the house, the only link to my mother. I would have had to accept Uncle Landon’s proposal, trapping myself in a marriage both with a man I think of as family and with a cheater—a man who’d have kept a virgin for a month while engaged to me.

I take a seat and study the board. The pieces are shiny, well polished, not dusty. Obviously hand-carved, expensive, but not especially ornate for a man as rich as Gabriel. He has the home court advantage, but I can infer more from it.

“When did you get this set?”

He smiles briefly. “The day before you arrived. I had it commissioned after the night you visited the Den. Well, a few days later. Once Damon had gotten ahold of your chess teacher’s letter.”

My eyes widened. “There’s no way they could have made it that fast.”

“I paid a premium,” he says. “I’m not sure the artist slept much.”

I look down at the set through new eyes. No one had ever played on this before. The symbolism touches me more than I want it to. A virgin set. Like me. “Why?”

“Call me extravagant.”

He is extravagant, but he’s also methodical, intelligent. Strategic. Everything he does has a purpose. He must have planned to bid on me from the moment he suggested the auction. Public shame. The ultimate triumph over my father. I should hate him for that, but I can’t, any more than I can hate my father for losing.

I move my pawn to e4, a straightforward opening. It doesn’t give him any clues about me, but I need to learn something about him if I’m going to win.

He thinks for only a second before moving a pawn to c5. The Sicilian Defense. It doesn’t tell me much except that he’s not a beginner. If he had done the King’s Gambit, I might have been able to lead him along, make him believe he had a chance before ending it. He knows enough to challenge me.

“An interesting game for a mythology major,” he murmurs, watching me. “A little aggressive. Mathematical.”

If he’s trying to distract me it won’t work. I move my knight to f3, allowing him to play out his moves before I surprise him. “Actually chess is deeply rooted in mythology. From its many creation stories to the wars that were won and lost with it. Philosophers, kings, poets. People from every walk of life have used chess to explain things.”

He smiles and plays again. “You don’t believe it was invented by Moses, then?”

Moses is one of many said to have invented the game. The Greek warrior Palamedes created it to demonstrate battle positions. An Indian philosopher designed it to tell the queen that her only son had been assassinated. I’m interested in the truth, but the stories tell us so much about the people throughout history as well.

I move again. “It’s not only the myths surrounding chess. Chess itself is a myth, you know? A game of hierarchy, of war. It’s a story that people have been using to explain complex concepts for eons. Mathematics, yes. Geometry. Business. Philosophy. Even love.”

“Love,” he says, making a Knight’s Gambit. “In a game of war.”

I can’t tell whether his words are refuting the possibility or marveling at them. Either way I’m not sure I can discuss love with a man who has purchased me like cattle. Or maybe like the brutality of chess, his ownership of me is the perfect myth in which to explore it.

I take his knight. “And if you think archeologists aren’t aggressive, you’ve never seen them fight over a new find.”

Our next few moves are done in silence as we fight for control over the board, reaching into the center, establishing our strongholds from which the final battle will be fought.





Chapter Twenty-Eight





By the middle of the game game my king is secure in the corner, fortified by the queen, my castles, my knights and strategically placed pawns. It’s a strong position that fulfills the most important rule: protection of the king.

In contrast Gabriel has his pieces bleeding into my space—his bishops, his knights. God, even his queen sits on g5, completely in my territory. Seemingly vulnerable, but I can’t touch her.

His king is protected by only a single castle and a pawn.

I would be terrified with that little protection, but Gabriel looks confident and assured as usual. Clearly the strategy is deliberate. And as undefended as his king is, I can’t touch him.

“Shall we make this game more interesting?” he asks.

Stakes, he means. Betting. “What could I have that you want?”

“You know, little virgin.”

My face flames with embarrassment. “You already bought me, remember?”

“I’m talking about a favorable exchange.”

I glance at the board suspiciously. Have I left myself in danger? “My queen for your rook?”