Page 339 of Summer Heat
By the middle of the game game my king is secure in the corner, fortified by the queen, my castles, my knights and strategically placed pawns. It’s a strong position that fulfills the most important rule: protection of the king.
In contrast Gabriel has his pieces bleeding into my space—his bishops, his knights. God,
even his queen sits on g5, completely in my territory. Seemingly vulnerable, but I can’t touch her.
His king is protected by only a single castle and a pawn.
I would be terrified with that little protection, but Gabriel looks confident and assured as usual. Clearly the strategy is deliberate. And as undefended as his king is, I can’t touch him.
“Shall we make this game more interesting?” he asks.
Stakes, he means. Betting. “What could I have that you want?”
“You know, little virgin.”
My face flames with embarrassment. “You already bought me, remember?”
“I’m talking about a favorable exchange.”
I glance at the board suspiciously. Have I left myself in danger? “My queen for your rook?”
He smiles. “No, my queen for your rook.”
That would put him in a worse position. “Why would you do that?”
“Your house. It matters to you.”
“It’s my house. My family’s house.”
“It’s more than that. Tell me why.”
“I grew up there. My father is comfortable there, and this might be his last few months.” Even that’s not the whole truth, and Gabriel knows it.
“He can be comfortable somewhere else.”
I stare at the board, trying to think how I can take his queen without answering. I can’t. My fists clench helplessly. This is what I didn’t want, to be sucked into a battle of wills with Gabriel Miller. To expose the soft flesh where he can hurt me the worst. But then that’s the entire point of the chess game.
It’s the entire point of a virginity auction, too.
“My mother killed herself.”
He sucks in a breath. “I’m sorry.”
“My dad told everyone it was an accident. Stormy night. Faulty brakes. No one questioned it. But I overheard the police chief talking to him that night. There was no sign of anything wrong with her brakes. And the tracks on the road—their forensics determined it was deliberate.”
Your mind. Your soul. That’s your leverage.
And I’m giving it up in exchange for the truth.
“Avery.”
“They kept it quiet because her family, my grandparents, they’re Catholic. They wanted her buried in the family crypt. They couldn’t have done that if—” If people knew she had killed herself.
“Avery, I’m so sorry.”
I’ve wondered and wondered why she died. Was she scared? Was she angry? I’m a grown woman now but there’s a part of me that will always be that broken little girl, wondering why her mother left her, thinking she wasn’t good enough to make her stay.
“He built that house for my mother,” I say finally. “She conferred with the architect, who designed it for her. I don’t know… I don’t know why she wanted things that way. Or what it means, if anything. But it’s the only thing I have left from her.”
