Anatoly's POV

Moscow, Russia.

I really don't want to get up right now. I've been working my ass off, why can't I just sleep in one day? I stand up and walk slowly to the kitchen. I swear it can take five minutes just to get to the kitchen. Why does our house have to be so big?

When I finally get there I pour some coffee, sit and read the newspaper. Chess champions have such thrilling mornings.

My wife walks in and she's talking on the phone. Probably to one of her Ukrainian friends, hence the reason she is speaking Ukrainian. One point for Anatoly.

My wife and I have a…..not so good marriage. Especially since last year and….Florence. God, it still pains me to even think about her. Quit being a whining bastard, Anatoly. You have a wife. A beautiful, smart, clever, nagging, un-trusting, always-suspicious wife. Not to mention she accuses you of cheating every 2 hours. I go out to buy some food and she says I'm out with a girlfriend. I go to the park with my kid and she says I was at a strip club. I WAS WITH MY CHILD!! If I were to go to a strip club, which I don't, then I would at least not bring my 9 year old kid. Not to mention, my child is a girl. She now just says that I cheat all the time. It was once. I didn't just cheat to cheat, or for sex, it was because I really did love Florence. NO! THERE'S THAT NAME AGAIN! Calm down. You're a mess Anatoly. A big, crazy, chess playing, Russian mess.

I begin to sort through some letters. I really don't want to sort them, I just don't have anything else to do. Oh look, a sponsorship, Aw, a letter from our marriage counselor, Some formal looking letter from World Wide Chess Interlinks. Hey, woah, isn't that that rich, high-end, mega formal, chess league? I've worked with them before. They got super rich off some donations and now they are claiming that they are trying to set up the biggest match since….the match between Freddie and I.

I would really like to see that happen.

I open the letter and read…

A/N: I really didn't want to type the letter again, but you can assume that it is almost a carbon copy of Freddie's, except it talks about him being world champ, blah blah. You get it.

Well, should I? I already have a lot on my hands, but then again, this is a really good opportunity. I grab my cell and type down the number….

A/N: Reviews are love. Everybody loves love. I hope the story is starting to make sense now.