Chapter 8

"So, now you're trying to get me drunk?" Elizabeth asked, from the doorway of the bathroom where she'd just spent ten minutes getting dressed and telling herself it was okay that she'd stripped down and offered to sleep with a stranger.

And the real kicker?

She had no idea what she would have done had he actually been willing to get into bed with her.

Then again, she wasn't quite sure how to take it that he didn't want to.

Jason lifted his eyes to her, a tight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, as he filled two short glasses with bourbon.

"Well, rumor has it that you're more of a whiskey girl," he replied, picking up the glasses and walking towards her.

She pushed herself away from the doorway, her eyes lingering on his smile. It was mysterious in a way that was almost seductive; as if he didn't let just anyone see it.

"I see that your friend came through," she said, recalling the short list of tidbits she ran off to him earlier that evening.

"At least Johnny's good for something," he replied with a shrug.

She took the glass from him, but didn't take a sip. She felt inebriated enough from the champagne, which was probably why she had walked into his room and taken off her clothes. She didn't even want to think about what whiskey could make her capable of doing.

"Are we gonna play or not, big shot?" she asked, flashing a curious smile at him as she tossed her head towards the desk behind him.

"Why do I get the feeling that you know your way around the board all too well?" he asked, motioning her towards the desk, where an in-progress game of chess was sitting.

She laughed, mostly to herself, knowing she could say the same for him. Chess required thinking several moves ahead, and tonight, they'd both been playing their own version.

"My father taught me," she replied, taking the seat behind the desk.

He raised his eyebrows at her in surprise, and she was amused that he expected anything less, especially when he'd been in control of the night thus far.

And now, it was her turn.

"He also taught me how to count cards," she continued, bring her glass to her lips and taking a tiny swig.

She figured one sip couldn't hurt.

"Your father," he repeated, shaking his head in disbelief.

"He wasn't your typical father," she replied, reaching for the game board. "I hope it's not a problem that I'm disturbing your game."

"Of course not…I play myself from time to time…And I was a few moves away from a stalemate," he said, answering the question that had been waiting on the tip of her tongue.

She was pleased that he hadn't been playing with anyone, though she scolded herself for even thinking about caring.

"Which means you know your way around a board too," she replied, sitting back in her chair after all the pieces had moved back to their places.

"I suppose you could say that I'm good at planning, making the right move…Comes in handy for my job…And day to day life," he said, taking a sip of his whiskey as he stared down at the board. He aimed a finger. "Ladies, first."

"Actually it's white first," she replied, nodding towards his pieces. She refused to let him take it easy on her, which it was clear he was going to try and do.

"Speaking of that," she murmured, as his eyes swept over his pieces, plotting his first move. "What is it that you do exactly?"

His azure eyes flashed to hers, and she could have sworn they darkened briefly, as if ashamed.

"This," he replied, moving spinning a pawn between two fingers before moving it forward two spaces. She furrowed her brow, not sure what he meant. "Casinos…And then some."

"Then some," she repeated, biting her lip as she leaned across the desk and contemplated her first move.

There was no doubt in her mind that he already had his entire game figured out, which meant she had to stay just as focused.

"That could imply anything," she murmured, resting her chin in her hand and staring across at him.

"Or nothing at all," he replied, a furtive grin on his lips.

Oh, those lips.

It was hard to ignore them.

Those pretty, pretty lips.

"People say a lot of things," she pointed out, sliding one of her pawns forward two spaces.

"A lot of hearsay, which is mostly shit," he replied, his gaze cast down on the board.

His tone caught her off guard, and she worried that she had offended him, which was the last of her intentions.

Then she reminded herself that if anyone was to be offended here tonight, it was her.

After all, he was the one who had wagered her in a poker game, for reasons he'd yet to explain.

"Fair enough," she muttered, tripping over her words as her mind try to think up a subject change.

He moved another pawn, his eyes shifting to watch her intently. He made her nervous with the way his gaze roamed over her. She chewed her lip, feeling panicked at the idea of losing the game. She had nothing to prove to him, but yet, she felt like he was waiting on something.

They made their next several moves in near silence. The only sound was the occasional sip from one of their glasses or an agitated sigh as they debated their course of action.

Elizabeth's finger lingered over her night, then her rook, and she glanced up to find him watching her curiously.

"What?" she asked, her voice just above a whisper.

"Nothing," Jason replied, barely shaking his head, a tiny smile on his lips. It was as if he'd discovered something about her, something that even she didn't even take notice of.

She narrowed her piercing blue eyes at him across the desk and leaned forward. "If you're trying to distract me, you're failing miserably."

"I think you're doing just fine being distracted on your own," he replied, winking at her before getting up and crossing the room to refill his glass.

Her eyes followed him, watching him quietly as he poured the whiskey, and turned back to her. She felt her face grow flushed when he caught her looking at him.

"See," he muttered, coming back over to his seat.

She rolled her eyes, staring down at the board, still wavering between using the knight or the rook.

"I don't care for the knight either," he said, taking a sip from his glass.

She attempted to sneak a glance at his side of the board, but of course he saw her. And sure enough, his knights were still in their original place.

"Why?" she asked, deciding on the rook.

She slid it forward several squares, realizing it was the best choice. If she could follow through on her next three moves, she could have his queen. And it was obvious from the way he kept her nestled in the middle of the other pieces, he cherished the queen most.

"It's the one piece that can jump over the other men," he replied, tapping the top of one of his knights with his forefinger.

She was surprised when he moved it forward, and she knew then that he was planning something.

"And let me guess," she said with a smirk as she moved her rook over two squares, "Jason Morgan never jumps over other men."

"Only when they jump first," he replied, sliding his other knight from it's home.

She swore under her breath when she started to move her rook, but realized she was trapped by his knights.

"Maybe next time you should try playing chess with someone who isn't better than you," he said, flashing a pearly grin.

And had he not looked so damn good while doing it, she would have been annoyed.

"You want to have a repeat of our previous venture from this evening?" she asked, raising her eyebrows at him.

He laughed nervously, gripping his glass of whiskey in his hand. "I don't think that bets have proven to be very good for our relationship."

"Relationship?" she asked, tipping her head to the side as she tucked her hair behind her ear.

He nodded.

"Well, if this is a relationship forming here, I'd say that bets are what it's based on, wouldn't you?" she asked, biting her lip and smiling at him flirtatiously.

She would have kicked herself in the ass for batting her eyes and tossing him a smile, but she was having so much damn fun while doing it.

"Then I suppose it's only fair that you get to make this wager," he replied, his eyes locked on hers.

She knew he was waiting on her to back out, so she figured it was time for her to raise the bar.

"If I win…," she said, drumming her fingertips on her chin as she kept her eyes locked on his.

"If you win," he replied as if it weren't even possible.

She grunted, folding her arms across the desk and leaning towards him. "If I win, you tell me just how much money you offered Lucky…Oh, I'm sorry. How much money you paid him for me."

"I did not buy you," he said defensively, mimicking her pose, and leaning across the desk towards her. "I simply purchased a moment of your time."

"Do you use money to buy everything?" she asked, disgusted by the way he'd just said that.

"Only when it will get me what I want," he replied smugly as he shrugged.

She scowled, rolling her eyes.

He really was such a man.

"And you wanted a drink with me?" she asked, as if it made no sense. She raised up in her seat, tucking her knees beneath her so she could lean further across the desk. "Just a drink?"

He nodded.

"Liar."

"That's awfully presumptuous," he replied, moving to his feet and leaning over the desk so that their faces were just inches apart.

"Men always want more," she said flatly, one hand holding her over the desk, the other clutching her hip.

"And so do women," he replied, his eyes dipping to her lips, then her breasts, and down to the curve of her hips. "They're just too afraid to admit it."

She'd never been so annoyed yet turned on at the same time. It left her torn between hitting him in the face and pulling him across the desk and into her arms.

"You uh, you have to decide," she said, flustered, as she straightened up and stood across from him.

Much to her dismay, he didn't move. He remained bent over the desk, his palms bracing himself above it, those damn piercing eyes on her. Her gaze fell briefly to the open collar of his tuxedo shirt, and his lips curved upward, as if pleased that she were admiring it.

I'm not, she told herself, narrowing her eyes at him before taking her seat.

"You have to decide what you want," she said flatly, leaning back in her chair and looking up at him.

He stayed still and she scowled.

"I think you know what I want," he replied, those damn lips, still holding that damn smile.

Her face grew flushed again and she ran a hand over the back of her neck, looking away from him. "Well, uh, too-too bad you're going-to-to lose," she said, in the most unbelievable way possible.

She was sure he was going to laugh at her discomfort and was honestly surprised when he didn't.

"Then, I guess you'll be finding out how much Lucky Spencer thinks your worth," he replied, finally backing away from the desk and taking his seat. He picked up his glass of whiskey and settled back, all the while staring at her. "I believe it's your turn."

"You're right…It is," she said, taking a deep breath and moving to the edge of her seat. She stared down at the board, every planned movement she had, suddenly gone from her mind.

She moved a pawn forward one space. "There."

Another grin of amusement spread across his face, causing her to be even more annoyed.

"What?"

"Nothing," he replied, tapping his finger on his bishop before sliding it across the board and taking the pawn she'd just moved.

"Shit," she murmured, mulling over the option of forfeiting before he wiped the chess board with her.

"I'm sorry," he said sincerely, flipping the tiny piece around his finger. She lifted her eyes to his. "I know that you like your pawns."

"What?"

"Pawns," he replied, motioning towards her pieces on the board. "They're obviously your favorite."

She couldn't fight her bemused smile. "How do you know that?" she asked, almost feeling exposed.

"You take care of them," he replied, setting her pawn down beside her rook. "You protect them with your other pieces, which I have to admit, I don't understand."

"Because a pawn is weak?" she asked accusingly.

He held his hands up on the other side of the board and sat back in his seat. "They don't get you very far."

"They never go backwards," she said with a shrug, knowing he was right. "Every move has to count, has to be calculated and precise, because they can go far…If you're a good player."

He clucked his tongue and glanced down at the board, then at her pieces he'd gathered at the sides.

"Don't be rude," she cried, flinging the single pawn of his she'd captured across the desk.

"So, I was correct," he said, catching the pawn in his hand and waving it at her mockingly.

"Yes," she admitted, moving another pawn, then motioning for him to take his turn. She reached for her glass, taking a quick sip, mostly to relax. "When I was kid, my father beat me every single time. Usually all I had left were pawns, so I took a liking to them…And they always helped me get my pieces back, well, only because he let me get the piece across the board."

"He sounds a good man," Jason said, toying with his bishop, then sliding it two more diagonal spaces.

"He was," Elizabeth replied, feeling a wave of nostalgia wash over her. "We used to have a lot of fun with games, and he was very proud of me when I learned to cheat…" She paused, embarrassed that she considered that her proud paternal moment. "He wasn't the most conventional of parents, I guess."

"Better than mine," he said earnestly. "He was one of those rule with the iron fist kind of men."

It was his turn to be embarrassed when he cleared his throat and tugged at his collar. Her eyes snapped to his in surprise, and she couldn't understand why he'd say something like that.

Tension seemed to fill the room, perhaps ghosts of both their pasts; them and their fathers, and neither said anything to clear it.

They remained quiet for several moves, the only sounds coming from the pieces as they moved across the board. She found it hard to pay attention with such an uncomfortable silence, and she longed for him to say something.

Two moves later, he cleared his throat, tugging at his collar again. He murmured something inaudible.

"What?" she asked, and he gave her a blank look, that she was starting to believe was a staple to those around him. "I didn't hear-"

"I said check," he cut in, winking at her as a smug grin spread across his face. He sat back in his chair, clearly pleased with himself. "And I'm fairly sure I'm going to win."

"Well, aren't you just pleased with yourself?" she replied, glaring at the board as she tried to figure out how to save her king.

He shrugged, placing his elbows on the edge of the desk and clasping his hands. "Your time is running out," he pressed, staring down at the board.

She knew he was trying to annoying her, and of course, she was letting him.

"It's so easy to distract you," he mused quietly to himself.

She did her best to ignore him, especially when he started to hum, rocking his glass back and forth in the air.

She stiffened, when she realized what song he was humming. "Are you kidding me?" she asked, scowling in frustration.

"Hmm?" he asked, his humming coming to a stop. He had a twinkle in those damn eyes of his that she was dying to put out.

Elizabeth's eyes narrowed and she brought her hand down on the board, shoving it towards him. "How's that for another one biting the dust?" she snapped, getting up and stalking away.

She wasn't sure why she so upset with him. Did she really want to know how little Lucky had sold her out for? She was fairly confident it was a price that would break her heart.

She was still amazed at how easily a man could fuck up a good thing.

"And are you seriously a Queen fan?" she cried, coming to a stop in front of the large window that overlooked the water.

They were nearing the shore and for that she was thankful. She wasn't sure if she could take anymore encounters with smug assholes.

"What's wrong with Queen?" he asked, following after her. She spun around, raising her eyebrows at him, and he shrugged. "Johnny."

She rolled her eyes. "Why am I not surprised that you would pick up doing something that corny from him?"

"It was fitting," he pointed out, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Jerk."

"Jealous."

She leaned against the window, her hands on her hips. "Jealous of you?"

"That I beat you," he replied, taking a step towards her. He tilted his head downward, lifting a hand to brush against her arm. "Why do I get the feeling you're used to getting your way?"

"I get my way because I'm right," she said spitefully, frustrated with how furious he could make her feel. "You get yours because you buy it."

"You bet your way twice tonight. You won once, by cheating," he reproached, daring her to disagree.

"And you cheated Lucky to get me alone," she cried, pissed that yet again, she'd somehow forgotten how all this started from his damn bet.

"Well, I didn't cheat just now, and I'm pretty sure I'm going to get what I want," he replied, looking her up and down. "And if you play nicely, you just may get what you want too."

She tensed up, knowing he wasn't talking about telling her how much money he gave Lucky, but she wasn't going to back down.

"And just what do you want from me, Jason?" she asked, leaning towards him and placing a hand on his chest. "What can I possibly give you that you haven't already passed up?"

He grunted, placing his hand over hers , and holding it to her chest. "A kiss," he replied simply, "And before you turn that into an argument, you offered to fuck me, not kiss me."

She sucked in a breath, caught off guard by his answer, but knew that he was waiting for her to contest his wager.

She had two choices; go through with it or tell him to shove it, and he was probably expecting the latter.

Well, too bad that he forgot who was in control this time.

Besides, a bet is a bet, and the loser has to pay.

She pulled her hand from his and ran it down his chest. She stopped at his waist, then lifted her other hand to the opposite side, gathering his shirt in both fists.

She met his surprised gaze one last time, and then she jerked him forward.