His gaze roamed the room in search of something, and when he discovered me, he studied me carefully. He catalogued my bare legs, the silk robe, my red lips, and the glittering mask around my eyes.
I forced myself to sound calm rather than terrified. “What do you want?”
His expression gave nothing away. “I have something for you in the library.”
“What is it?”
He didn’t answer me. He disappeared from my doorway, demanding I follow him. Anxiety clung to my skin. I was chilled in the persistent air conditioning Macalister required, and yet I began to sweat. What terrible thing awaited me in the library?
He stood facing the window, his hands clasped behind this back, and he didn’t turn when I entered the room, but he must have sensed it. “It’s on the desk.”
The only thing resting there was a large and flat wooden box with a metal clasp. It looked similar to the one my mother stored her best silver flatware in. The grain of the wood was inlaid to create a beautiful pattern.
Fear gripped me. It was another Pandora’s Box, and I wasn’t interested. “No, thank you.”
He turned to look at me over his shoulder, his eyebrow lifted in displeasure. “There’s nothing inappropriate inside, and you’re being rude.”
I held in a tight breath and plodded to the desk, my suspicion-meter all the way in the red as I cautiously undid the clasp and lifted the lid.
Black and white alternating squares were bordered with scenes from the ancient myths I adored. The chessboard was seated in deep blue velvet, a darker shade than the eyes staring at me as I curled my fingers around the edges of the heavy board and lifted it to get a closer look.
“Oh,” I sighed.
Beneath the board, the thirty-two chess pieces were displayed. Zeus and Hera as the black king and queen, Athena and Poseidon as the white pair. For both colors, Ares was the bishops, Pegasus the knights, and two Greek columns served as the rooks. Below, eight satyrs were pawns, half-goat and half-man with tiny horns on their heads. I put down the board and picked one of the pawns up, marveling at the weight and detail.
“This is beautiful,” I said. “They’re so intricate.”
When I looked up from the piece, I found Macalister viewing me with fascination. Like a starving man watching someone else eat. It made my heart beat faster and my nerves rise. He’d given me a gift. What was he going to want in return?
“I thought we could play a quick round.”
There it is. “Thank you, but I don’t think we have time. We don’t want to be late for—”
“They won’t start the party without me.”
I’d left the door open. He strode to it and pushed it closed, and the action made alarm spike through me. As much as I wanted to see this gorgeous chess set arranged on the board, it felt dangerous. I wasn’t mentally prepared to spar with him right now, when I was barely dressed.
But he didn’t care. He sat in his seat and began to pull the black pieces from the case, arranging them on their squares. My options were limited. I could play the game and get it over with or argue and waste time and have to play the game anyway. He’d get his way, regardless.
I plunked down into my seat, gingerly extracted my white pieces to set them up, and when we were both ready, I made my first move.
“Your mask is stunning,” he said as he moved his pawn. “Medusa?”
“Thank you. Yeah, it was a gift from Royce.” I moved another piece. “What’s yours? Zeus?”
He took his turn and gave a faint, enigmatic smile. “No, not Zeus.”
A stone turned over in my stomach. I had the terrible realization of who he was going as and couldn’t bring myself to say it. I tried to steer the conversation away from the subject.
While we played, he talked about how proud he was of his company and that HBHC had reached such a milestone. They’d survived the Great Depression and the global financial crisis in 2008, and under his leadership, stock had soared.
Well, up until last month.
“Shareholders love to panic at every minor detail,” he mused. “We’ll be fine.” He confidently slid Ares three spaces diagonally and took my satyr pawn, placing it on the desk with the other pieces he’d captured.
Hairs on the back of my neck tingled. Something was wrong. I stared at the board in confusion, trying to figure out where I’d made a wrong move—
Holy. Fucking. Shit. I hadn’t.
But Macalister had.
He realized it at the same moment because he launched forward in his seat and tried to put my pawn back in play.
My breath was hurried. “No, you took your hand off. Your turn is over.”
He looked furious, but also like he was about to be ill.