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He shakes his head. “It’s not important.”
“It wouldn’t look right not to,” I say. “You know that.”
“That’s okay.”
“I don’t mind,” I say. “Truly.”
He changes direction, a smooth shift that’s nearly imperceptible, and steers us in a circle back toward the stage. “I shouldn’t have bid at all,” he says.
“You had to,” I murmur. He knows it, and I know it. There are social expectations around these things, and with his place in this crowd, he was obligated to.
He accepts the ornately decorated envelope from Maurizio, containing one very expensive gift card. Then, he raises a practiced hand and gives a wave and a smile to the audience. I notice Celine standing nearby, her son to her right. I don’t meet Percy’s heavy gaze.
But I feel it.
“All right,” Isaac mutters beneath his breath. His free hand lands on my lower back again. “Let’s go. Finally.”
Everyone’s still watching us. Their eyes feel like a weighted blanket on my skin, and I feel reckless, a little drunk, and too emotional.
So I lean against Isaac and look up at him, my eyes sparkling again. And I let a slow smile spread across my face. “Yes, please,” I whisper. “I’d like that.”
His eyes dip briefly to my lips before he raises an eyebrow. “Well played, Bishop.”
“Thanks. I’m one of the most useful pieces on the chessboard, after all.”
“Are you?” He bends to rest his lips against my ear, playing the part I’ve cast him in. “And do you think you’ve checkmated your king?”
I close my eyes, shutting out the too-curious gazes of the crowd. “Not yet,” I whisper, “but I have him in check.”
He chuckles, a warm exhale of breath against my skin. I shiver. “Yes, and I bet he knows it very well.” His cheek brushes against mine as he pulls back, stubble pleasantly rough, and then he’s straight again. “Let’s go.”
We walk out of the hall and emerge back into the warm, late summer air of the city, his hand staying on my lower back the entire time. Caught between longing for the safety of my own apartment, and the desire to stay close to this man for as long as I can, I don’t realize the full meaning of his words until much later that night.
Who was the king in that analogy, really?
Which man do I have in check?
10
SOPHIA
I frown down at the design sketches we’ve received from the Exciteur graphics department. Jenna and Toby are sitting opposite me at the table in my office, the glass surface covered in graphic profiles, color schemes, and logo designs.
“It’s not right,” I say. “It’s way too traditional.”
“It’s what they say they want,” Toby says with a shrug. “Every single part of the brief has the word ‘traditional’ in it. I think I counted it sixteen times.”
“Yes, but I don’t think they’ve fully thought that through,” I say. “Look at this color scheme. It’s stunning and elegant in the New York location where you have a century-old building and legacy power. But can you picture a gold brocade sofa in the hotel lobby of a newly built hotel in Santa Barbara?”
“No,” Jenna says. “Or rather, I can, and it’s not looking good.”
“This needs to be fresh and exciting, and modern.” I drum my fingers against the table. “We have four weeks left until the pitch.”
“And a lot of work to do,” Toby says. “Did you see the shortlist of architecture firms I sent over?”
“Yes, and they’re excellent… for the traditional vision. How about this? We create two pitches.”
Toby’s eyes widen. “Two separate pitches? In four weeks?”
