"Do you love me?" It was a question she had never had the courage to ask him before. Her heartfelt words elicited nothing from Nate. Not a shimmer of his eyes, not a sway of his body as if deliberating the question. Nothing. Only silence and sad, liquid, blue eyes stared back at her. "You can't even say it, yet you wanted to marry me?"
"You don't love me either, but we're compatible,” he answered with only the slightest hint of emotion.
And there it was – the thing she had known all along. He had finally owned up to not loving her, even if he hadn’t stated it. He had finally said out loud what the sad reality of their relationship was.
Tears of regret pricked the corners of her eyes. "You're right. I don't love you. But I want more than compatibility, Nate. I deserve more and so do you. I want love. I want that overwhelming feeling of helplessness and hopefulness that comes from being in love. I want passion."
His body stiffened defensively. "So you're saying I'm passionless?"
She shook her head, hating the dejection she saw in his eyes. "I'm saying our passions and desires are different."
In typical Nate fashion, he changed the subject to something, anything, that didn’t involve the word love.
"That man is trouble,” he pointed in Victor’s direction. “Everyone except you, knows that.” She knew. More than anybody. “There's a reason he never has a girlfriend. There’s a reason he’s never been married. Think about that the next time he's fucking you passionately.”
It was the first time she had seen Nate speak about something so full of feeling. It pained her to see him hurting, but this thing between them was over. She had already returned his ring and there was no turning back.
“And when he's done with you, feel free to go fuck yourself full of passion, and don't ever think about calling me again,” he spat out.
He waited for her response, but she gave him none. There was nothing more to say. He was allowed to be angry with her. It had never been her intention to hurt him, though she knew she had. No, she wouldn’t be calling on him again. Someday he would find a woman whom he would fall in love with and one that he didn’t just feel he was compatible with. She hoped he would.
She deserved love too, but somehow it always seemed to slip out of her reach. She could’ve learned to love Nathan… eventually, but now their situation was irreversible and Mr. Black was to blame. However, she knew Mr. Black wasn’t the only one at fault. She made the choice to play the game again, fully aware of the consequences and the fallout that would inevitably happen. Her hand hadn’t been completely forced; just coerced.
***
Elsa belonged to Victor. She always had. From the very first day he heard her voice in the pub. Nathan had only been on borrowed time with her. That man should consider himself lucky that he was allowed the time he had with her.
Victor watched with bitter jealousy as they talked in hushed tones in a secluded corner of the restaurant. Was he begging for her to come back? Was she agreeing?
His stomach churned and his chest tightened. All along she had been lying to him about their engagement. All along she had led him to believe that she was planning a life with another man and that when the game was over, she would fall back into Nathan’s arms.
If only he had paid closer attention. If only he had stalked her. If only he had… He gulped loudly and sighed irritably at himself. She knew not having told him about her broken engagement gave her power over him. How the fuck did she know that? Was he really that easily manipulated? He had shared his secrets with her while the entire time she was hiding the biggest one of all. But for how long had she been lying?
When he saw Nathan exit the building, he strode to her and spun her around to face him.
"Why didn't you tell me you had broken up with him?"
With glassy eyes, she looked past him. "Because it was none of your business."
His angry retort barreled through him. "I've been spilling my fucking heart out to you night after night, and you didn't think I should know that?"
"No, I didn't,” she finally glared at him. “Thinking I'm engaged has kept you at arm’s length, which is exactly where I want you to be."
"Arm’s length?” he laughed sarcastically. “I’ve been buried inside of you for weeks now.” Elsa’s cheeks brightened and she opened her mouth in rebuttal, but he swiftly cut her off. “When did you end things with him?” He needed to know for his own sanity how long she had been deceiving him.
She stared silently at him for several long seconds, then cleared her throat. “The night I found out you had a hand in setting us up.” Bitterness laced her words. “The same day you made a promise to let me live my life uninterrupted if I played your game.”
Since the very, fucking, beginning. Once again, her feminine façade had hidden her killer instincts well.
Disgusted with himself for not having seen through her lies, he felt his face heating in a blush. “Why did you break it off?"
Her hands fisted at her side. "Because I decide who to be with; not you. I may be a lot of things, including stupid for ever having fallen for you, and even more ignorant for agreeing to play your damned game again, but the one thing I am not, is a cheater."
He stared back at her in stunned silence. She was winning. Again. Always one step ahead, always out-fucking-maneuvering him…. He would never win this game with her. Jesus fucking Christ, he'd be lucky if it was a draw.
The game was far from over yet, but still, she had just taken a huge lead.
How had he missed something so important? Had there been clues? He thought long and hard, replaying all their time together as she crossed her arms over her chest and turned away from him. Yes. There had been clues. Like the way she never really spoke about Nathan and changed the subject whenever he brought up the fact that she was engaged. Or how she always looked discomfited whenever he called Nathan her husband. And the way she never wore her ring. And the fact that she was so readily available to him. Like the way Nathan reacted so coldly toward her at her birthday party and how she didn’t bother to call him after her attack. But the most obvious sign of all was the way she didn’t care that he had been with other women or that he had a membership to the Stallion & Knight club. The glaring signs that shined as bright as a spotlight had all been missed because he was so consumed with what he was telling her, he had his blinders on.
He wracked his brain for more hints, but his nerves were too raw to think rationally. All he could recall was the jealousy she had made him feel; the ache in his chest he felt every time she left, and thinking that she was with another man. He wanted to be angry at her and to hate her for stringing him along and making him think that she was unobtainable, but he couldn’t. How could he when she was playing the game the way he designed it to be played? How could he condemn her for being true to herself?
All these weeks she had been alone; just like him. Every day she had been tortured by everything that this game was doing to her; just like him. Every time they faced off, she had put on her mask; just like him.
And he had fallen right into her trap. Again.
Killer. Fucking. Instincts. This Goddamned woman may be a liar of epic proportions when it came to the game, but she was no cheater. He was the only one in her life and his heart felt as if it would implode at the thought.
He was the only one.
He was hit with the sudden realization that this thing with Elsa wasn't just about the game anymore. It wasn't even about the sex. It was about possessing her; owning her; and making her want only him. He was caught up in his obsession with her like an animal caught in a hunter’s snare. His fixation with her had become increasingly demanding and endless and he was helpless to do anything about it.