“Yes, actually.”
“You might have heard Bitsy’s jokes then. She’s funny as hell. Let’s see. What else?” I steeple my fingers and tap the tips together. “I’m thirty-four, run Hugo Realty. That’s my pop’s name. He was in residential all of his life and I moved it to commercial. Single. Never been married. Never wanted to be married. No girlfriend although I do have some female friends like Christina, but we’re not a couple and never have been. Just friends. Your turn.”
“You hungry?” she says unexpectedly. She pushes to her feet and walks to the door of my office. “I’m going to make a sandwich. Let me know if you want one.”
I stare at the empty doorway in befuddlement. She does not want to talk about her past. In fact, she’d rather make up a lie about wanting to eat than tell me a personal story. It’s a damned red flag that tells me I should not only kick her out of my house but tell the temp agency to take her back even if it gets me blacklisted. I drop my eyes to my lap where my dick is still semi-hard. Giving her the boot is out of the question, so I guess I’ll have to find the answers to mystery girl’s life on my own.
Halfway to the kitchen, the doorbell rings. The courier at the door presents me with a large box and two big envelopes. The envelopes are work related, but the box is my gift. Maybe this will grease the wheels, so to speak, and get Leila to open up.
I carry the package into the kitchen and lay it on the counter. Leila gives me a bright but very fake smile.
“Sandwich?” she asks, gesturing toward the bread and mayo and meat in front of her.
“How about you hold off for a moment and open this.” I nudge the box closer to her. She stares at it in apprehension. “It’s not going to bite you, I promise.”
She still doesn’t move, so I slice off the tape and push aside the cardboard flaps. I lift out a large wooden case and place it in front of her.
“All work and no play can make Leila a dull girl,” I tease and remove the lid. Nestled inside a silk lined cavity are the pieces of a chess set made out of pink and black marble. I gently tug the pink queen from her resting spot. “Only the best for the queen of chess.”
Chapter Thirteen
Leila
I stare down at the chess set, and my heart starts to pound. I run my sweaty palms down my thighs, trying to figure out how I’m going to get the hell out of this. A pang of guilt that I shouldn’t feel hits me.
“It’s beautiful,” I admit, taking the queen from him. Why the hell did Chris have to put this on my stupid made-up resume? I know absolutely nothing about chess. It doesn’t usually take me long to pick up on things with my memory, but on this, I have no freaking clue. I’m going to have to distract him so that he doesn’t realize I have no idea what I’m doing.
I don’t even know the name of half the pieces, let alone how to play. I try to search my brain to see if I’m able to recall a moment of someone else playing near me. If I could only remember, I could at least pick up some pieces and pretend, but I’m drawing a blank at every turn.
“I figured only the best for someone with your skill set.”
“Right.” I put the queen back down on the counter. “So sandwich?”
He gives me a curious look. “I thought you’d be more excited. You don’t want to play?”
“With you?” I smirk. “That would be like shooting fish in a barrel.”
“I don’t mind losing. Especially to the best.” His smile is genuine. He’s so different than I thought he’d be. He doesn’t let his ego get in his way. I’ve noted that a lot with him. Even yesterday after what we did, he hadn't pushed or gloated over it. If it wasn't for the past or the things I know about him, I think I could actually fall for him. But I do know.
“Maybe tonight.” I shrug, picking up my sandwich and taking a bite.
“Why not now? You could teach me a few things. I haven't played in years.”
“I said I don't want to,” I snap, not meaning to. His brows lift in surprise at my outburst. “Sorry.” I mumble. I really wasn’t prepared for any of this.
“Leila,” he starts, but I cut him off, giving him something else to focus on.
“I didn’t get to meet my father. He passed before I got the chance.”
Warren leans back in his chair, his focus finally off the chessboard and on me. “I’m sorry to hear that. How long ago?”