Black Knight, White Queen (10 page)

“Not exactly.”

“Good things come to those who wait.”

His gaze dropped over her body for an instant. “Who said I need to wait? Only another five pieces and you’ll be naked.” His eyes met hers. “Assuming you’re wearing underwear.”

“I’m wearing some underwear.” She hadn’t bothered with the bra today.

“Good. Then it’s only four pieces.”

“I need more questions answered before the nakedness happens. Just so you know.”

“Make your move then.”

She leaned forward, studying the board. He would let her have the pieces, she knew that. There was no way she could beat him. But it didn’t matter. He would let her have her way with the questions and that was enough.

Izzy moved her bishop again, trying to threaten his knight. He moved it out of the way but in the process left her threatening another pawn. Engineered, of course, but she’d take it where she could get it. She took the pawn.

“You want to know why I didn’t go to school?” he asked.

She gave him a measuring look, noting his rather complacent air. Predictable, was she? Well, she couldn’t have that. “Hmmm. Maybe. Or maybe not. Maybe I have a better question for you.”

“Ask it then.”

Izzy put the black pawn down beside the first. “You hesitated before, when you called Viktor your friend. Why?”

A curious blankness came over his face. “Because I wasn’t sure if friend was the right term.”

“Why not?”

“That’s not—”

“Then give me a proper answer, Aleks.”

Something hard glittered in his eyes. “You didn’t specify what constitutes a proper answer, Izzy.”

“I told you about my sister. I’ve never told anyone that. Not since she died.” She paused, letting that settle in the silence between them. Then added, “So are you seriously telling me you won’t answer this one question?”

“You didn’t have to tell me about your sister.”

A little pulse of anger went through her. “Hey. You asked me, remember?” She leaned forward. “What are you afraid of?”

“I’m not afraid.”

“Then why are you avoiding answering the question?”

He’d tensed, his posture suddenly way less relaxed than it had been a moment ago. “Viktor taught me how to play chess. And he was more like a mentor than a friend.”

The answer was what she wanted and yet she still sensed more to it than that. Aleks seemed so guarded. So cold. And yet she’d seen his grief the day before. Sensed his hurt. It was there. But it looked to her as if he wanted to hold it close. Protect it. Hide it.

Deny it.

“You loved him,” Izzy said. “Didn’t you?”

Raw anguish flared briefly across his face then vanished, his expression so cold and hard it may as well have been carved from ice. Black lashes veiled his gaze as he looked down at the board. “My turn.”

Denial then. Though, was it the fact that Aleks had loved this mentor of his or the fact that he grieved for him that he was denying?

“Losing someone you love is hard, Aleks. There’s no shame in grief.”

He didn’t say a word, moving his queen and taking her bishop. Only then did he look at her. “Take off your top.”

“But I get to say—”

“I said, take off your top, Izzy.”

His face may have been expressionless, but she could feel anger pouring off him like heat from the sun. “What’s wrong? What did I say?”

“No.” A harsh note in his voice. “No more questions. Just do as you’re damn well told.”

She stared at him. This anger stemmed from pain. She knew it. Recognised it. Because it was the same anger and grief she felt herself about Angie. Yes, Aleks had loved this Viktor and he grieved. So intensely the pressure of his emotions almost filled the room.

Izzy wanted to touch him then. Wanted to show him she understood. That she knew how grief could suffocate you. How it could bleed you dry so that there was nothing left of you.

But that touch would turn into something else and that would leave them in exactly the same place they were now. And that wasn’t what she wanted.

Slowly she reached for the knot that tied the silk around her chest. Undid it.

Giving in now would mean she could push later. And she would push. This man was hurting and she wanted to help him. Comfort him. Because no one had ever done that for her when she’d been grieving, everyone had been too wrapped up in their own pain to give her the shoulder she’d needed to cry on.

His gaze darkened further as she began to unwind the silk from around her body. She said nothing as she did so and neither did he, his eyes never leaving her, as if her body was a lifeline he had to hold on to.

Eventually the silk slipped free. Goose bumps rose over her skin as she pulled the material away from her breasts, baring them. Aleks’s gaze followed her curves, lingering over every inch. He didn’t bother to hide the desire glittering in his eyes.

Okay, so he had a problem with love and grief but apparently no issue with lust.

Izzy felt her own arousal rise. God, she loved the way he looked at her. Loved it so much.

She leaned back on her hands, letting him look. “My turn, I believe.”

Chapter Eight

Izzy was beautiful. Every inch of her. Like a delicate figurine carved out of ivory. A white queen.

Aleks let himself look at her, let himself feel the need for her. Because that was easier to deal with than the anger that fizzed and spat inside him like a pan of boiling oil.

You loved him.

No, he didn’t love Viktor. Love wasn’t allowed. Love had never been allowed. Not since a glass vase had smashed against a wall and the person who was supposed to love him had sent him away.

Izzy shifted on her cushion, moving a knight to threaten his queen.

He barely looked at the board. He didn’t need to see it since it was all in his head and besides, she was a view better than any chess game. Her bare breasts helped keep him on track. Reminded him why she was here. Sex and nothing more.

He moved a bishop and ruthlessly took her knight. “Take off your trousers.”

Izzy lifted an eyebrow at his tone. Then she put her hands on her knees. “No.”

“Take them off, Izzy.”

“I already said no once. How many more times do I have to say it?”

“We had rules.”

“Yeah, and now I’m breaking them.”

A hard knot of emotion gathered in his chest. He wanted to hurl the chessboard away and grab her. Drag her over into his lap and put his hands on her. Forget this feeling. The one that reminded him of the house in Santa Monica the day after he’d flung the vase at the wall and everything had turned to shit. When he didn’t know what he’d done, only that his anger had scared his new mom, had hurt her. For days afterwards he’d tried to keep it locked up inside him and the whole world had suddenly become like glass, where one false move might shatter it. And then it had shattered. And he’d been cut to pieces by the shards.

Aleks stared into Izzy’s calm blue eyes. She would leave if he insisted. She would get up and walk away from him. “Why?” He forced himself to stay where he was. Get some control. Get a handle on what was burning him up inside. “I thought we agreed what the rules were.”

“We did. But now I want to change them.”

“There will be no change.”

“Au contraire. You have one hell of an advantage, Mr. Grandmaster. So if you want this…” and she arched her back a little, making it clear exactly what she meant by
this
, “…you’re going to have to give something back to me.”

An obvious choice. Either he gave in to her will or he went without her in his bed.

Aleks shifted, the tightness of his jeans making him well aware that his body would not be happy with her leaving. And yet the pain elsewhere, in his chest, made the other choice, submitting to her questions, even more difficult.

He could force her if he wanted. Make her give up her need to know. Drown her in sensuality so that she’d forget. He liked control but only with consent. Forcing people to do what he wanted wasn’t what did it for him and never had.

Ever wonder what it would be like to give up control sometime?

But he wouldn’t be giving up control here, would he? He would just be letting her have some.

He tried to relax his tense muscles, rubbed his chest to ease the tightness. “So what, exactly, do you mean by changing the rules, Izzy?”

“Nothing much. I’m just not going to strip for you and get nothing in return.”

“You wanted to be here. You wanted to be in my bed.”

“Yeah, and I’m not saying I don’t. But I won’t be ignored again, Aleks. Not by you, not by anyone.”

Such a ridiculous statement when she sat there, half naked. How could anyone ignore her? With her cloud of pale hair and determination burning bright in her eyes.

“I’m not ignoring you.”

“But you won’t answer my questions.”

“If your questions were normal ‘getting to know you questions’, then maybe I would. But they’re not. You’re asking things that I wouldn’t tell a friend, let alone someone I’ve only just met.”

A flush spread over her cheekbones. “And I can’t be your friend?”

“Why would you want to be?”

“Because you’re hurting, Aleks. I can feel it. I can see it. And I want to help.”

He didn’t want to hear that. Didn’t want to be reminded of the pressure in his chest. The pain he’d been shutting out. The grief. A grief about so much more than just the loss of a mentor. The grief for a whole life he’d lost years ago. A grief he’d never let himself feel.

“No,” he said, his voice gone hoarse. “I’m not hurting, Izzy. I don’t feel anything.” If he said it enough then perhaps it would be true. “I don’t feel a single, fucking thing.”

Slowly Izzy sat up, tall and straight on her cushion. Unselfconscious about the fact that she was half-naked. Proud as an empress. A queen. “If you don’t feel anything then why are you so bloody angry?”

Anger. Pain. Grief. Emotions he never allowed himself.

Ice, Sasha. You have to be like ice if you want to win.

He’d always been good at hiding those emotions. Suppressing them, forcing them down so no one would ever see them. But she saw. She saw right through him, past the icy control, all the way down to the angry, disturbed little boy he’d once been. Christ, she was like boiling water on a frozen window-pane, melting away the frost for a clear view. Only he didn’t want to see that view. The past was the past and it needed to stay where he’d buried it.

Aleks looked away, down at the board instead, where everything was simple. Ordered. Where there were rules. Where you couldn’t move back, only forward. Where you knew exactly where you stood and where you had to go.

“Are we going to finish this game?” he asked. “Because I can end it in two moves.”

“Okay, I see. You’re going to ignore me. Great, Aleks. So you’re a coward too.”

The words echoed around the room, burning into his skin like a brand.

He lifted his head. And suddenly the weight of his anger seemed insupportable. A primitive, basic anger so heavy and so hot that the icy wall he kept between himself and it melted like an ice cube in a lava flood.

“Take off your fucking trousers, Izzy. Take them off or get out of my suite.”

She didn’t move, staring back at him. Sparks glowed in her eyes. Then she stood up, pulled the tie on her wraparound pants and pushed them down and off, taking her remaining sandal with them. She wore only a pair of bright purple lacy briefs that covered absolutely nothing, the pale curls between her thighs visible beneath the lace.

But the look on her face wasn’t one of submission. It was all challenge.

She kicked away her trousers and stood there, hands on her hips, staring down at him. “There. No trousers.” But she hadn’t finished. Unexpectedly, she hooked her fingers into the waistband of her briefs and pulled them down as well, stepping out of them and tossing the fabric behind her. Naked now and yet she made no attempt to cover herself. Just stared at him, her chin lifted.

He couldn’t take his eyes off her. “What are you doing?”

“Getting naked, Aleks, what does it look like?” She took an audible breath. “Starting with my body. And now that’s done, I’ll bare everything else. You want to know about anger? Let me tell you about mine. I can’t breathe when I talk about Angie because I’m so angry with her. With her choice. For taking her own life without caring how that would affect her friends and family. For being so fucking selfish. For leaving me to deal with the mess. For leaving me without a big sister. For leaving me with parents who can’t seem to understand that they have another daughter who’s still alive. That’s why I’m angry. And I feel it. I feel it all the fucking time!” Her cheeks were flushed, hands curled into fists at her side. “People tell me I shouldn’t feel that way. That I should be grieving for my sister, not be angry with her. But I’m sick of being told what I should and shouldn’t feel. I’m angry and I want the whole bloody world to know!”
 

Izzy stood on the other side of the chessboard, burning like a flame with the force of her emotion. Burning like she had on the rooftop the day before in the thunderstorm.