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He said it with such confidence that, for one jarring moment, my breath stuck in my throat.
Like he could see right through me.
He closed the doorbehind him, leaning against it to block my escape route, arms folded over his chest. “Let’s try again—why are you here?”
With a parting glance, I dragged myself away from the jade pendant and sauntered across the room, eating up the distance between us with swayed hips.
In lieu of a sword, sex was a great weapon.
“I don’t like parties.”
Or you.
Or the fact that you waltzed into my life and snatched what’s mine so easily, as if I’m nothing of consequence.
I buried the words beside my pride and dove in for the kill, adjusting the neckline of my gown. His eyes didn’t even budge.
Ouch.
On to Plan B.
I fanned my face, tossing my hair over one shoulder. “I needed to catch my breath, and my legs led me here.”
“Well, I respectfully ask that they lead you off the premises, unless you wish to spend your night in a jail cell.”
That he wasn’t a nice guy didn’t surprise me, but he was being a downright prick. Then again, Ihadcome 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.
