Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 76915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
He let out a sharp bark of laughter. I quirked my lips without looking up. He continued staring at me while I realized I was probably going to be in check within a few moves. I could not figure out a way out of it.
“Drink some wine. It makes defeat easier to swallow,” he offered, clearly realizing that I had reached the same conclusion.
“Does it?” I asked, tipping over my King and resigning. I took a sip of wine. He was relaxed, smiling, and so sure of himself.
His next words made me laugh and groan at the same time.
“I wouldn’t know.”
“You’ve never lost?” I asked incredulously, still holding my glass. I felt… almost relaxed. Almost… flirtatious.
“A few times,” he allowed. “When I was younger. When playing masters.”
“Masters?”
“Yes. Masters.”
I raised my brows. I knew what he meant. If the only people who had ever defeated him were actual champions, then I didn’t stand a chance. I doubted I could beat him in chess, or anything else, other than the violin. I had one thing I could excel at, if nothing else.
“You played very well,” he added, sending a rush of warmth through me at his words of praise. “Again,” he added. It was not a question. It was a command.
I watched as he reset the board.
Chapter 13
Anton
The evening was doomed.
I had never been in a position like this before. I was having guests tonight. And my sweet little Mishka was serving.
Mishka was terrible at serving. But she was improving at chess. And from what I observed through my video monitor, her playing was improving as well, if that was at all possible.
She’d already proven she was excellent. Exceptionally talented. A true artist. But recently when I saw her pouring her heart into her music late at night, or very early in the morning, or anytime I didn’t require her presence, it stunned me.
It also annoyed me. She still refused to play for me. And she skipped her own meals frequently to sneak away and play, forcing me to find ways to provide her with extra food
I was not meant to know that she was skipping meals, so I had to be covert and creative about getting her to eat.
Truth be told, that was probably my fault. I’d been requiring her presence more and more. We’d settled into a routine. I did not go out, to the chagrin of my friends. Even my brothers were griping about my lack of sociability, not to mention my seeming isolation. I did not want to share meals even with them.
I did not want to share her.
I had to admit, my brothers were valid in their concern that my absence might cause a visibility or perception issue.
Which is why, tonight, I was bringing the party here.
On the outside I was presenting as my usual, relaxed self, but I couldn’t help but wonder what my little maid would think of my dinner companions. I’d seen to her getting several pairs of shoes so she could rotate them, even allowing her a pair of black ballet flats, that she was told to wear during the day, if she chose. But in the evenings, for dinner, she was required to wear heels.
Meanwhile, I had made some other adjustments as well.
Her uniform was a miracle. It was very close to being too tight, but not quite, and the hemline had shifted subtly upwards, week after week. I had seen her tugging it downward once or twice when she thought I was not looking. I wish I could say that I felt guilty about it, but I never did.
Not even a little bit.
She was not given stockings, so her glorious, perfect legs were bare to my gaze, and I hoped someday soon, to my touch.
She was a walking wet dream in that uniform. She literally haunted me day and night. Her sweet soulful eyes, her demeanor, her controlled passion, the silkiness of her skin and hair, and the insane curves.
Never mind how elusive she was.
The girl was giving me a run for my money, and then some, and I could not have been happier. Or more frustrated. I loved the challenge of her, even while I prayed for success to come quickly. Alas, that did not seem imminent, though I kept strategizing, considering, and hoping.
Like my sweet little Mishka herself, my emotions were a dizzying contradiction, mesmerizing, conflicting, and engrossing.
I was having the time of my life, and I had never been more miserable. I never wanted it to end. I wanted this torment to continue forever. As long as she gave into me eventually, she could torment me for the rest of my life.
This might be hell, but when I got her in my arms and in my bed, I knew without a doubt that it would be heaven.
I went downstairs early, embarrassingly eager to lay eyes on my little beauty. I checked the feed and did not see her in her chamber or the music room. It was too close to dinner to hope she would be playing, but I planned to rewind and watch all her video later, regardless. I wandered to the open dining room. Other servants were setting the table, more ornately than usual. There was no sign of my little bird.