Total pages in book: 166
Estimated words: 169305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 847(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 169305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 847(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
That he wasn’t a nice guy didn’t surprise me, but he was being a downright prick. Then again, I had come here to steal from him.
I floated around the room, ignoring the way his words hung in the air like a blade. My knuckles fluttered over business books, paintings, and upholstered couches.
Zach discarded his whiskey tumbler on an end table, his eyes tracking my every movement like a hawk. “Are you dumb?”
Dumb? No.
Determined? You bet.
And I had a feeling Zach wasn’t accustomed to women who didn’t fawn all over his every request.
The Go board nestled between two tufted sofas caught my eye. Kaya wood. Yunzi stones. Mulberry bowls.
He must’ve dropped an entire mortgage payment on this baby.
Stones littered the board as if someone had abandoned a lengthy game. Or more likely—run away.
On instinct, I plucked a black stone from the bowl and set it beside a star point.
From across the room, Zach’s brows snapped together, his eyes dropping to the board. “It’s not chess.”
His low voice reeked of ridicule. But something else had laced into it. A pang of panic. He didn’t like it when others touched his things.
Classic only-child syndrome.
“Obviously.” I gauged Black’s thickness, fingertips tingling with the urge to snatch another stone. A lifetime had passed since I’d last played. “Chess dolls are cute and pointy. These circle thingies are for checkers.”
His eyelid twitched.
All that money, and he couldn’t afford a sense of humor.
Tsk. Tsk.
Before me, the stones broadcasted all I needed to know about the players.
Black—cautious, generous, and gentle.
White—ruthless, aggressive, and decisive.
Zach is White, I decided.
I arched a brow, burying my curiosity about Black’s identity. “I assumed it was Black’s turn.”
“And why would you assume that?”
Because I can count.
I opted for something slightly more offensive.
“Because White was dumb enough to respond to Black’s ko threat, so I imagine after destroying his own group, he begged Black for a timeout in order to lick his wounds and regroup.” I shook my head. “Didn’t have the balls to resign, did he?”
Silence.
I flicked an errant blade of grass from my dress, deciding I liked Zachary Sun best with his mouth shut.
His expression remained an impenetrable fortress, blank and unreadable. He didn’t look at me. Instead, his entire attention clung to the board.
There was something so detached about this man that I seriously doubted he was capable of functioning humanly.
It made him unpredictable.
And that made him a very dangerous opponent.
“Yikes.” I rolled my lower lip into a pout, tilting my head sideways. “You’re White, aren’t you? Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me.”
The slight flare of his nostrils was the only telltale he was breathing. “I didn’t avoid resigning.”
I eyed the door, wondering whether he’d notice if I wormed my way out. “Glad to hear it. That would be terrible sportsmanship.”
The French windows tempted me.
Not like I needed my ankles intact these days.
“No.” Zach stalked toward me, one deliberate step at a time. His scent, of citrus and dark woods, burned through my nostrils, warning me that danger lurked nearby. “I did not back out,” he insisted, so close to me now that our shoulders almost touched.
We both glowered at the board.
He gestured to the high point. “Look.”
I did.
At his hands.
Hands that had never seen a day of hard labor. Perfect, clean, and cut cuticles. Long tan fingers. Smooth, even skin. Thick wrist with a De Bethune strapped to it.
So perfect.
So glamorous.
So soulless.
“I smell a bet,” I challenged, realizing this so-called genius hadn’t caught on to my intentions.
Holy hell.
I was actually going to get away with trying to steal from him.
My feelings ricocheted between relief and disappointment for not capturing the pendant.
Yet.
“All I smell is bullshit.” He claimed the seat across from Black, dropping his elbows to his knees and lacing his fingers together with a frown. “Sit.”
Sit. Go.
It wasn’t lost on me that every command he’d given me could be mistaken for a dog’s.
“Why?”
“Because I’m about to wipe the floor with you. Your journey will be shorter from the settee.”
I studied him, half-scandalized, half-frightened. “You really think you’re smarter than the rest of the world, don’t you?”
“The theory is backed by facts.” He meant it.
Poor whomever-he-decided-to-marry. I hoped for her sake his dick was as big as his ego.
“I think—”
“You believe,” he amended. “Most people lack the capacity to truly conjure real, original thoughts. Even dissertations are recycled theories of greater minds. I couldn’t care less what you believe. Now sit down, or I call security.”
I blinked. “Are you forcing me to play with you?”
“Yes.”
“Let me guess—you weren’t the most popular kid in the playground.”
“Never been to a playground.” He pushed his sleeves up, lifting the mulberry lid covering the white stones. “Though my parents did rent out Disneyland for a weekend for my fifth birthday. Flew my entire grade there. Didn’t hear any complaints. Sit.”
I did so obediently, figuring the game would be a welcome distraction while I calculated my next move. “Ah, rich people. They’re just like us.”