Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 101840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Fortunately, the stakes were low. I’d wager big money Locke remembered even less about Jethro than I did, and I couldn’t imagine a scenario where he’d go looking for info. He’d probably forgotten I existed until we’d run into each other.
Still, it made sense to change the subject.
“Anyway, I haven’t been to a shell beach in years,” I lied. “Tell me more about Paxis. Is there like an association of players? Is your grandfather ranked? Who puts on the tournaments? Do you play, too? Does your whole family?”
Something shifted in his demeanor. “My grandfather plays with a private group. And yes, I’m… learning. My father had no aptitude for the game while he was alive, and my sister, Celeste, has no interest in it.” He shook his head, faintly amused. “Which left me to take it on.”
That was an odd way of talking about a hobby. As if playing chess were somehow a heavy responsibility he carried. Maybe the family’s reputation in Paxis circles was an important part of his legacy.
But a new, slightly horrifying thought occurred to me. “Is your grandfather here now?” Is he likely to show up and wonder why I’m in your bed?
Locke shook his head. “He flew to his house in Italy for a break. I have to return to the city for work. Running the world doesn’t just happen, you know.”
I laughed. Beyond the golden circle of light from the lamp, the room was dark and still, making it feel like the two of us were suspended in a bubble. Maybe that was why Locke was answering my questions honestly. Maybe that was why I wanted to reciprocate.
“My dads are into a cutthroat card game called Egyptian Ratscrew,” I blurted. “Have you heard of it?”
Locke’s frown intensified like he wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly.
“I know, I know, weird name, but you might like it. It’s really fun and intense. It involves a lot of slapping and yelling. At least, my family’s variation does.” I held out my hand and pointed to a needle-thin scar on my pinkie. “This is from my sister’s pointy-nail era. Siblings are vicious.”
We talked for a little while longer. I explained how the card game worked and regaled him with a few stories of epic games over the years, congratulating myself that I was aware enough not to share any specific identifying details he could use to find my real identity.
Eventually, I turned the light off again, and we continued talking as we sank back down onto the bed, facing each other.
It was… nice.
Weirdly domestic, but… good.
As I closed my eyes, I imagined this was how actual couples fell asleep, talking about unimportant things, and I found myself wishing for more of it.
I wondered what it would be like to see Locke again, back in the city.
I even wondered whether there was a chance I could ever tell him who I really was.
As Locke’s breathing evened into sleep, my eyes shot open in the dark.
What the fuck was I thinking? Breaking my cover? For… a chance at begging for scraps from a straight man’s table?
This op had really fucked me up if this was how low I’d sunk. The fantasies spinning in my head were ridiculous. Not to mention dangerous.
Which was why I waited to be sure Locke was truly asleep and then quietly got the hell out of there to catch my flight home.
And why, two weeks later, I agreed to transfer to the Miami office.
8
LOCKE - PRESENT DAY (THREE YEARS LATER)
I had zero patience for pouty women, and the one on my arm was skating close to my limit tonight.
“I told Taylor we’d meet her and Eduardo at the Sky Bar after this. Kizzy Sweet is DJ’ing, and it’s gonna be lit! Pretty please, Lockie? It’s the least you can do after making me sit through the Marines’ dinner party thing.”
“Maritime,” I corrected for the second time as I guided Willow through the frigid night air toward the entrance to The Glasshouse. “It’s the Maritime Foundation benefit.”
While she continued to whine and plead, I thumbed the invitation in my coat pocket. It had come by courier just before I’d left the office.
The Paxis Council was calling an unexpected tournament.
After my grandfather’s death several months ago, many people had reminisced about him being a formidable chess player. But no one outside the Paxis Council itself had known what was really on the line when he and his powerful friends gathered to play.
The fate of the world. Or at least the stability of it.
It was always unsettling to have the council call for a tournament outside our normal schedule. But this was also the first tournament where I’d be playing the Maris family seat. And on top of that, it was my turn to host the gathering at my grandfather’s—now my—place in Italy.