Chapter Six

T o bias sits on the floor across from me in his slacks and starched shirt, his hair slightly askew as he studies the pieces on the board before moving to claim one of my pawns.

Dinner was mostly silent, a battle of wills as he watched me eat. I didn't compliment him on his cooking or thank him, nor did I fight him as I consumed every last bite of chicken and Greek pasta salad, barely holding in my groan of satisfaction. I assumed he'd leave as soon as he got his way. Instead, he'd ordered me into the formal living room and declared we'd be playing chess.

He wiped the board with me on our first game, which is no surprise. I'd be bored to tears if it weren't for the company. I tuck that thought away as I try to ignore his effect on me from a foot away. It's been a struggle sitting across from him. I'm exhausted from fighting the constant crackle of electricity due to his proximity.

My hate for him continues to grow, along with my attraction. I'm in a constant state of anger and arousal with him near, his smoldering gaze always calculating, assessing, when I catch him watching me.

It's not intimidation or the power he holds. It's the intimacy I felt in that kiss and the fact that his words and actions contradict it in every way.

Twice I've caught him looking at me with the same curiosity, and twice he's kept me hostage with his amber gaze. But neither of us has said a word about it.

What's there to say?

Neither of us wants to want the other. Neither of us wants to feel more than hate and contempt, and yet the draw is so strong, so blatantly obvious, it's unnerving.

I'm all too happy to deny it until the bitter end of our arrangement. But the fact that he exists at all is still a revelation in and of itself. He's the essence of an enigma. If he hadn't come to me that day at the pool, I would have remained in the dark about him. The fact that Dominic and Sean hid him so effortlessly is alarming.

Well played, boys, well played.

These men are skilled in deception and disguise it as trust. But it's the bigger picture I see now when I think back to the beginning. And the fact that I'm not sure just how big it is.

"It's still unbelievable, you know," I say, moving a pawn only to have it swept away. He's been anticipating my moves, just as he has with every other one I've made since he came into my life nearly a year ago.

"How so?" He knows exactly what I'm referring to, and it unsettles me even more. Anticipating another's thoughts is a sign of shared intimacy.

I exhale a breath of frustration. I have to choose my words wisely. Instead, I opt for silence. These head games are grueling.

"In theory," he says, knowing I'm unwilling to mull over my word choice, "when you take what thieves steal, they can't exactly file a police report."

"I know that part, but do they ever retaliate?"

"Stupidly, yes, and often ." He takes my knight. "And why is it so unbelievable? Haven't you seen enough?"

"In a way, yes, but . . ."

"But what? Too close for comfort? That's the beauty of it. You can't for a second believe what's going on in your own back yard, and that's the hardest realization to come to terms with."

"That's true."

His amber eyes flicker as he scans my face. "You know gangs exist, right? But you've never been in that environment. You've never witnessed a drive-by or seen an initiation, have you?"

"Also true."

He leans back and crosses his arms, pausing our game.

"Do you believe the Cartel exists?"

"Yes."

"The Mob?"

"Of course."

"Why, because you saw Goodfellas ?" He shakes his head, a faint smile on his lips. "So why is it so hard for you to believe a group of people banded together for a reason they felt was justifiable enough to warrant extremes to try and evoke change?"

"It's just so . . ."

"When you were coerced in, you were just as ignorant until you saw for yourself."

"Yes."

"And you just admitted it's still unbelievable after the fact. So, would it be safe to agree your ignorance is shared with a large majority?"

I nod, mulling over what he's saying. "I believe so, yes."

"Seeing is believing for so many that it's fucking pathetic."

"So I've been told a hundred times."

He smiles but it's pride I see shining in his eyes. The pride of a teacher. "Sean."

You.

"Cartels are corrupt," I say, making my move, "and so is the Mob."

I lift my eyes to his. "And so..." are you . And they do it all—everything from blackmail and extortion, down to petty theft. The Ravenhood is just as corrupt, as lawless as any other extreme organization. "So, this is evil versus a lesser evil?"

He nods toward me to make my move. As soon as I do, his countermove earns him a greater advantage on the board. "How do you justify it? What sets you apart? The fact that you don't hurt innocent people?"

"If you don't think you're in danger, you're a lot less intelligent than I gave you credit for. The second we focus on taking someone down, we, in turn, gain bullseyes on our backs—all of our backs, no exclusions. There are no rules for innocents in wars like these. The casualties due to our declared wars all boil down to human decency. Whether or not our opponent has humanity enough to leave the innocents out of it."

He drives the point home by knocking my pawn off the board.

"Can we be done with this game?"

"No," he answers quickly, "I'm three moves away from winning."

I make my move, and he's already lifted his knight.

"The tattoos are pretty stupid, don't you think? Incriminating. How do you expect to keep this contained?"

"There will always be the burden of evidence for anyone to incriminate."

"Isn't that a bit arrogant?"

"No, it's not arrogant. There will always be the burden of evidence, just like there will always be an exception to every rule. I'm expecting it. I expect opposition. I expect retaliation. I expect to be surprised because of human nature—case in point, the interruption that is you . But make no mistake, America is a corporation, a business, Cecelia. Your father knows that, everyone in a position of power fighting behind the flag knows that. Roman isn't stupid. He's well-aware he has enemies, whether he can identify them or not. He's also aware that one wrong move could cost him everything, as all players are. And for every man positioned in a place of power or importance, there will always be someone waiting in the wings to seek weakness out, anticipate your next move, and attempt to take what doesn't belong to them."

He moves his knight forward. Checkmate.

"That was only two moves," I point out.

I don't miss the subtle but familiar smile that upturns his lips. When his gaze lifts to mine, and he sees my response to it, he draws his brows.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"You saw my brother when you looked at me just then."

"Why do you say that?"

"It's the first time you haven't looked at me like you wanted to fuck me or kill me today."

"I don't want to fuck you. But killing you sounds delightful."

"Maybe you'll get your chance one day." He flashes a different grin, one that's distinctly his, and I try not to swoon at the sight of it. Why does he have to be so fucking beautiful? Why couldn't he be a second-hand Dom? That I could deal with a lot easier. And the thought that I've been eye-fucking him and he's noticed is nauseating.

But I'm starting to understand the root of some of my attraction. When I look at him, I do see Dominic and Sean. When he speaks, I hear bits and pieces of them both. I must still be looking at him in that way because he lifts his chin, prompting me. "What?"

"You're the original quack."

He draws his brows. "Explain."

"Nope." He sits back against the fireplace draining the gin he helped himself to from my father's richly stocked bar.

"So, if you know it's just a matter of time before you meet a worthy opponent..." his eyes lift to mine.

Fearless. He's fearless.

He's expecting someone to best him at some point. He's expecting to pay the enemies he's stacking up with his life and the lives of people he's associated with, and he lives with this knowledge daily.

They all do.

They are, in essence, soldiers.

I resent the fact that I respect him for it.

Tobias stands and pulls his jacket from the couch. He slips it on with his eyes on mine. I slowly stand, my mind racing as I grapple with all he's theoretically confessed.

"Safety truly is an illusion," I conclude, the rest of my blissful ignorance falling away.

He dips his head. "And the most powerful, but once you make peace with it, it's easier taking bigger risks to seek greater rewards. But that's no excuse to make a stupid move."

And it's the truth. In every aspect of life, safety is an illusion. I can lock this house up tight, but a storm could rip the roof from over my head. I could safeguard my heart and never let anyone in, but I would still feel the pain of isolation. I could make all the right moves every single day of my life out of fear, and with a sweep of the right hand, get wiped off the board altogether.

Every decision we make in life is a move, our opponent invisible. Whether it be the enemy of illness, or the enemy you sleep with, you don't get that knowledge until the opponent makes itself known.

His logic is that we're all pawns playing invisible opponents, and one wrong move or stupid decision away from revealing our enemy. Simply by inserting myself into this mix of dangerous men, I might have switched up my opponents and lined my life up differently. Up until now, I believed myself to be somewhat immortal, and Tobias just snatched that from me with the truth.

I suppose everyone has this kind of moment, but like everything else I've unearthed in the last year, my education came early. He must sense my fear because he takes a step toward me and thinks better of it before he turns and walks out of the room, shortly after, closing the front door behind him.

"Thanks for the dinner and mindfuck," I mumble, peeking out of the frosted, oblong window next to the front door just as he pulls away in a black sedan. On copilot, I lock the door and set the alarm, and a second after that, the irony hits me, and all I can do is laugh.

I made a bargain with a devil to keep his secret if he kept my father safe, but because safety is an illusion, it makes his end impossible to uphold.

And it occurs to me that my inevitable realization was Tobias's third move.

His true checkmate.

I shake my head as I warily climb the stairs to my bedroom. "Connard." Bastard .