I stopped at the gate and flashed my membership card at the armed guard. He examined it and nodded.
The security scanners took my car’s specs before the gates slid open with a smooth whir.
“Funny,” Rhys said flatly. “Clients should pay extra for your sense of humor.”
“That’s rich, coming from a guy who has no sense of humor.”
My mouth tugged up at his second, even more annoyed growl.
Rhys Larsen used to be my top bodyguard until he fell prey to the disease people called love. Now, he was the Prince Consort of Eldorra.
Sometimes, I texted him photos of him looking bored and grumpy at various diplomatic functions just to fuck with him. I didn’t need to say anything for him to get the gist.
You’re whipped, and it’s pathetic.
My obsession with Stella might be spiraling out of control, but at least I wasn’t attending ribbon-cutting ceremonies for a charity she liked and planting trees for an Earth Day photo op.
“Don’t try to change the subject. What the hell are you doing dating Stella?” Rhys demanded.
I parked the car in the private garage and walked toward the entrance. The heavy double doors opened with a wave of my card over the reader.
“The same things every man does in a relationship.”
“Cut the vague bullshit, Harper.” A note of warning slipped into his voice. “She’s Bridget’s best friend. If she’s upset, Bridget’s upset. And if Bridget’s upset…”
“You’re going to knock me out with your ceremonial crown?” My shoes echoed against the polished floors, where the giant gold V etched into the middle glowed against the surrounding black marble. “Duly noted. Now, I believe you have an event early tomorrow morning. Better get to sleep, Your Highness. You need your beauty rest for the photo ops.”
“Fuck you.”
“Sadly, while I’m sure you have the women of Eldorra swooning, you’re not my type.” I passed by the restaurant and the entrance to the gentleman’s club before I reached the library. “Give the queen my regards.”
I hung up before he could respond.
I should’ve known he would get snippy about the Stella situation. He was fully whipped by his wife, and she was protective of Stella.
Understandable, but that wasn’t my problem. I hadn’t signed up to be nagged by her friends about my intentions.
I opened the doors to the library and found the person I was meeting seated at our usual table by one of the stained-glass windows. Leather-bound books soared three stories to the cathedral ceiling, and the low murmur of conversation interrupted the otherwise reverent hush.
There was no stern librarian yelling at patrons for talking, but a thirty-thousand-dollar annual fee granted club members more freedom than in any public space.
The library at Valhalla Club was where deals were made and alliances were forged. Every power player in D.C. knew that.
“You’re late.” Cool green eyes tracked my progress as I approached the table. A rare eighteenth-century chessboard sat on top of the thick oak next to two empty crystal tumblers and one full decanter of Glenfiddich 40 Year single malt scotch whisky.
“That eager to lose?” I removed my jacket and draped it over the back of my chair before I sat, my movements unhurried and deliberate.
I rolled my sleeves up and poured myself a glass of scotch. Nothing like a good drink to start off the evening.
Alex Volkov pinned me with a wry stare. “We’re tied for wins.”
“Not after tonight.”
Alex and I had standing chess matches at the Valhalla Club every month for the past five years. Our games were always hard fought and harder won.
We rarely interacted outside the hushed confines of Valhalla and the rare occasion when he needed my help with something cyber-related, but our monthly meetings were one of the few social engagements I truly enjoyed.
“Your hubris will be your downfall one day, Harper.” Alex filled his glass halfway and raised it to his mouth.
“Perhaps,” I agreed. “But not today.”
“We’ll see.”
Normally, our games were silent with concentration, but Alex surprised me as he moved his pawn to e4.
“So, you and Stella.”
“Yes.” A non-answer for a non-question.
“What are you holding over her?”
I paused for a fraction of a second before I countered his move.
The Alex Volkov I knew wouldn’t give two shits about anyone else’s personal life.
“Asking for your fiancée?” Like Rhys’s wife Bridget, Alex’s fiancée Ava was also best friends with Stella.
“Stella has never been interested in a relationship.” Alex ignored my question. “She also didn’t mention a single thing about you or a boyfriend until she posted that photo. Therefore, it stands to reason that you’re blackmailing her.” Those sharp green eyes narrowed. “Then again, you aren’t interested in dating, which means you either want to use her for something or the two of you have struck a mutually beneficial deal.”
This was why I enjoyed Alex’s company. He kept me on my toes.
“Don’t let the conspiracy theories cloud your brain,” I drawled. “You’re losing.”
Blatant lie. We were on equal footing so far in the game.
“Your diversion tactics leave something to be desired, so it’s not my brain that’s clouded,” Alex said. “Maybe Stella will be the one who’ll crack your I don’t believe in love shell. It’s always the unexpected ones.”
I’d never heard him say so many words in such a short period of time. My amusement deepened. “Maybe, but doubtful.”
My feelings toward Stella were…unusual, but they weren’t love. It was hard to feel something I actively despised.
Love made the world go round, all right. In endless, tedious cycles that produced horrid songs, even more horrid movies, and annual abominations like Valentine’s Day.
I rarely found it anything other than poisonous.
“Since when did you become so chatty?” I pushed my knight into a defensive position. “Don’t tell me you’ve evolved into an actual human being. We should put out a bulletin in the Valhalla newsletter. The other members will be thrilled.”
Valhalla Club didn’t have a newsletter, but its members had their own methods for tracking their friends’ and foes’ lives alike.
“As thrilled as they are to learn of your new relationship status, I’m sure.” Dark humor glinted in his eyes. Yet another change from the stoic Volkov I’d met years ago.
We continued the game, but now that Stella had been brought up again, I couldn’t stop my thoughts from straying down paths they had no business traversing.
She hadn’t posted on social media since the night of the fundraiser. She usually posted every day. She hadn’t reached out to me for more photos despite the success of her first post.
Was she second-guessing our arrangement?
A trickle of something cold and foreign washed down my spine. It took me several beats to identify it.
Uncertainty.
Something as unfamiliar to me as rainstorms were to deserts.
We have a contract. She won’t go back on her word.
Yet the urge to check in with her gripped my attention and pulled it away from the carved ebony and ivory pieces scattered strategically across the board.