I tried not to think too much about the fact that if Toby beat me, the cover-up of Sheffield Grayson’s death would be exposed. Either that, or I’d have to give Blake something much more significant than a favor to keep it quiet.
The man would own me.
No. I could do this. There was a way. My move. His. My move. His.
Again and again, faster and faster, we played.
Then, finally, a breath whooshed out of my chest. “Check.”
I knew the exact moment that Toby saw the trap I had laid. “Horrible girl,” he whispered roughly, and the tenderness in his eyes when he said it almost took me down.
His move. Mine. His move. Mine.
And then, finally— finally… “Checkmate,” I said.
Vincent Blake kept the bowie knife on Eve’s arm a moment longer, then slowly lowered it. His grandson had lost, and as the realization of what that meant fell over me, my insides twisted.
Toby had lost both matches. He was Blake’s.
CHAPTER 81
I expect better next time,” Vincent Blake told Toby. “You’re a Blake now, and Blakes don’t lose to little girls.”
I caught Toby’s gaze. “I’m sorry,” I said quietly, urgently.
“Don’t be.” Toby reached out to cup my face. “I see so much of your mother in you.”
That felt far too much like good-bye. From the moment Eve had arrived at the gates of Hawthorne House, I had been determined to get him back.
And now—
“Will I…” The words stopped, like the question was gumming up my throat. “Can I see you?” I asked.
You have a daughter, I could hear myself saying.
I have two.
Blake didn’t give Toby the chance to reply. He shifted his attention to Eve. She basked in it, like he was the sun and she had the type of skin that didn’t burn. For the first time, instead of looking at her and seeing Emily, I saw something very different.
An intensity that was Toby’s. Blake’s.
“If I win this game…，” she said, steel and wonder in her tone.
“It’s yours,” Blake confirmed. “All of it. But before we begin…” Blake lifted a finger, and a member of his security team rushed over. “Could you fetch our other guest for Ms. Grambs?”
Grayson. I didn’t let myself fully believe that he was okay until I saw him, and then I let myself think about what I’d won—not just his freedom, but a promise that no one I cared about would find themselves a guest here again.
“Avery.” Grayson’s blue-gray eyes—his irises icy and light against the inky black of his pupils—locked on to mine. “I had a plan.”
“Reckless self-sacrifice?” I retorted. “Yeah, I got that.” I pulled him close and spoke directly into his ear. “I told you, Grayson, we’re family.”
I let go of him. The board was set up a final time. Eve was white. I was black. With tens of thousands of diamonds glittering between us, we faced off in a game of greatest stakes.
Based on Eve’s level of play against Toby, I hadn’t anticipated the challenge I soon found myself facing. It was like she’d watched my game against her father, internalized a dozen new strategies, and learned how I saw the board.
She’s playing to win. I was desperate to save Oren, and I had no idea how much of a crime I had committed by not reporting Sheffield Grayson’s death. But Eve? She was playing for the keys to the kingdom—for wealth and power beyond imagining.