Yessss!Victory.
Two minutes later, we were on opposite sides of the board, cross-legged on the rug like we were kids at a sleepover. His place looked too expensive to be this comfortable, but somehow the low lights, the polished floors, and him sitting there in his A-shirt, muscled arms bare and rippling, made everything feel regular.
“Don’t cheat,” I told him.
He raised a brow. “Why you saying that to me and not yourself?”
“Because you look like the type to cheat,” I said, eyes narrowed.
I got a full smirk this time. “And you don’t?”
“I’m honorable,” I exclaimed on an offended gasp.
“Girl, you a whole lie out here,” he countered.
“Wow,” I said, hand over my heart. “I’m hurt.”
“That’s alright,” he murmured with no sympathy. “You’ll be a lot more hurt when you start landing on my properties.”
He said it calmly, like he wasn’t smack-talking me while setting up the game pieces, but I caught the hint of swagger in there. Just enough to let me know he was feeling more like himself. He was warming up enough to challenge me.Good.
Once everything was set, I picked the little silver car. He picked the top hat like he was eighty years old.
“What kinda man under thirty picks the top hat?” I quipped.
“Entrepreneurs pick the top hat,” he answered.
“So, you admit you built your personality around rich-man shit, but wanna call me bougie. Mm-mm-mm.”
“I admit that I’m gon’ win,” he said, smug smile in place.
“You ain’t even rolled yet.”
Another eyebrow raise, this one confident, cocky. “And?”
“And you talking real bold for someone who’s about to get these hands in Boardwalk violence.”
This time, I got a full smile, a flash of those pretty whites against the velvet darkness of his complexion. “Shut up and roll the dice, Little Thug.”
I laughed and rolled first. Seven. I drove my little car to Connecticut Avenue. It was a nice little gain.
“See?” I said. “Regular degular warm-up roll.”
“Mm-hmm,” he mumbled, already unimpressed.
He rolled. Twelve. Damn show-off. We made it past Go once, and it was like entrepreneur mode was activated. He droppedthat hat right on Tennessee Avenue and bought it without blinking, like he was signing a quick million-dollar wire transfer.
“Already investing?” I asked.
“Never too early to build wealth.”
“Oh, my God,” I groaned. “You speak like capitalism is foreplay.”
He smirked. “I can make anything foreplay. You don’t know that yet?”
I threw one of the little Chance cards at him before rolling. By the time we were twenty minutes in, he was demolishing me. I wasn’t going to admit it out loud, but I’d never seen someone play Monopoly like it was a real-life investment plan. Every move he made was too calculated for me. He was over there building a little empire all quiet and deadly. I realized he wasn’t just good in business—he wasdangerouslygood. Smart. Strategic. Ruthless when he needed to be.
It was a little unfair, honestly. I needed a financial advisor or something like a miracle. See, this why I couldn’t stand his ass.
