“Hasn’t it?”
He didn’t want to answer that so instead he took the pen out of her hand, picked up the book from her knees and opened it, leafing through the pages, looking at the art she’d created. She had such talent. Images of her trip filled the pages, temples and gardens and markets. Farmers with bullocks, a woman in a boat full of flowers, a priest with his hands clasped together, eyes closed.
But there was one face in particular that didn’t seem belong to the sketches of Thailand. A face that seemed to appear regularly in the pages. A woman with long hair and a distant expression, as if she were seeing things that the viewer couldn’t even contemplate.
Izzy had gone still, her gaze on the open page, one with the woman on it.
“That’s Angie,” Izzy said, though he hadn’t asked, had already worked it out. And in her voice he could hear the pain.
However she might run from her sister’s death, her sister was still with her. Was still close. A wound that would never heal. A pain that felt somehow familiar to him.
He closed the book abruptly and put it on the couch next to her. Reached down and pulled her up into his arms. “I’m hungry. We should get something to eat.”
“Nice subject change there. Don’t think I didn’t notice.”
Aleks kissed her. “Food, Izzy.”
She gave him an exasperated look. “Okay then. Shall we go out?”
“I was thinking room service.”
“Oh, no, let’s not. I didn’t come to Bangkok just to spend hours in a bloody hotel room. I want to go somewhere else.”
He didn’t. He’d been to Bangkok a few times before and it was just like any other city, big and dirty and full of people. “Where?”
The glint in Izzy’s eyes became wicked. “Tell me, Mr. Grandmaster chess player. Have you ever been to Patpong Road?”
Aleks didn’t want to go—Bangkok’s touristy red light district held no interest for him whatsoever—but he had to admit, watching her as she walked beside him through the busy, crowded street made agreeing to her suggestion worthwhile.
She wore her blue silk sarong and trousers, hair loose over her shoulders like a cloud, the neon lights painting rich colour over her pale skin. The expression on her face was so bright, full of avid curiosity and excitement. She glanced at him, grinning, and reached for his hand. The gesture was so unexpected he didn’t have time to pull away. A simple, casual touch. Asking for nothing. Demanding nothing.
He found his heart beating fast as her fingers twined with his, a strange breathlessness moving through him. No one had ever held his hand before. He liked it. Aleks curled his fingers around hers, her touch soothing in a way that had nothing to do with sex.
Around them the crowds of tourists surged and heaved. The whole place was alive with noise, chatter and laughter, the calls of touts hustling for trade outside the go-go bars that lined the road, the cries of the vendors in Patpong’s famous night market.
Izzy made him stop every so often to look at the stalls of the market, exclaiming over jewelry or clothes or traditional Thai crafts. She chatted with all the stallholders, greeting them in terrible Thai which seemed to charm the pants off everyone she tried it on. Then she spent a long time haggling good-naturedly over a slender silver bracelet she wanted to add to the collection around her wrist. It was a beautiful bracelet, even he could see that, but expensive and the vendor would only go so low with the price. Eventually Izzy said to the old man behind the counter, “Sorry. Too expensive.”
The man tried to engage her again in more bargaining, but Izzy shook her head and began to turn away to go on to the next stall. Although she still had a smile on her face, Aleks could sense her disappointment. Clearly she’d wanted that bracelet. Well, why shouldn’t she have it?
Aleks dug out his wallet and before he knew quite what he was doing, he’d bought the bracelet himself. Holding the slender silver band, he followed Izzy to the next stall.
“Izzy.”
She looked up from the display of fake brand-name watches she’d been inspecting. “What?”
“Here.” He took her hand, slid the bracelet over her wrist to join the rest of her collection.
Her eyes widened. “Aleks…” She faltered, meeting his gaze. “You bought this for me?”
“Yes.” He still didn’t know quite why he’d bought it for her. He’d never bought anything for anyone before.
Colour tinged her cheekbones. “But why?”
“Because you wanted it.”
“But… It’s expensive.”
He shrugged. “I’ve got plenty of money.”
Izzy looked down at her wrist, and he could see the colour move over her skin, deepening. Then she glanced up again and the smile she gave him made the whole world slow down and stop. “Thank you,” she said softly. Then she stepped close and brushed her mouth over his. A light, almost insubstantial kiss and yet he felt it go all the way through him. He lifted his hands, wanting to keep her there, kiss her again, but she stepped back, evading him.
Her eyes shone. “Oh no, Mr. Grandmaster. No kissing here. C’mon. Let’s find something to eat.”
Ten minutes later, after pausing at a food cart for bowls of thin, slightly sweet egg noodles, then walking through the crowds again, Izzy said, “Hey, you are enjoying this, aren’t you? I kind of get the feeling you’re not.”
“I am.” With a slight shock, he realized it was true. “I’m just not much of a tourist usually.”
“You don’t travel a lot?”
“No, actually I do. Tournaments are held all over the world so I go where the challenge is.”
“Sounds exciting.”
“It’s not. It’s just work.”
She gave him a curious glance. “So where are you based?”
“California.”
Izzy sidled closer to him, avoiding a large group of gawping western tourists. “Oh? I thought you went back to Russia.”
“I did. But I moved to the States ten years ago.”
“You went back?”
“Of course. I wanted the life I was supposed to have had.”
Izzy didn’t say anything to this for a moment, continuing to walk beside him in silence. Then she said softly, “And did you get it? The life you were supposed to have?”
His house near the beach. Full of all the things he’d always wanted. A house he almost never stayed in for any length of time. “Yes.”
But her fingers tightened around his as if she’d heard something entirely different. “And are you happy?”
“What’s that got to do with anything?”
“Nothing. I just hoped it was true after what happened to you.”
“If being satisfied with what I have is happiness then yes, I’m happy.”
“That’s not quite what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean?”
She stopped, staring at him. “Y’know, happiness? Finding joy in life. Liking where you are and where you’re going. Being excited about the world. Having people in your life who love you and whom you love. That kind of stuff.”
“What about it?”
A small spark showed in her eyes. “Nothing. Just forget it.” Her head turned and she began to walk on.
But he didn’t move, gripping her hand so that she had to stop. “Izzy.”
She turned back, neon lights flickering over her face. “What?”
“Why are you angry?”
She let out a breath. “Because sometimes I think I understand you. And then you say something so utterly insane that I realize I don’t understand you at all.”
“What’s insane? The questions about happiness?” He frowned. “Why do you want to understand me anyway?”
“See, that, right there, is what I’m talking about.” She moved close to him. “We’ve spent the last two days in each other’s arms, and you still don’t know why I would want to know you. To understand you. To want you to be happy.”
Beneath the thick, heavy scents of food and
oil and garbage that permeated the humid air, he could smell her scent, soft and sweet. Roses. And despite the hours they’d spent in bed, he found himself wanting her all over again.
“No, I don’t understand. We’re lovers, Izzy. That’s all. We don’t need to know each other. I don’t have time for it anyway. The tournament is the day after tomorrow and I need to start preparing.”
A flash of hurt crossed her face. God, her emotions were like quicksilver, changing all the time. Changing so fast he couldn’t keep up. And she wore all of them on her sleeve, so vivid it made him uncomfortable. “Fine,” she said tightly. “Sure. Shall we find somewhere to have a drink?”
“And now it’s you changing the subject.”
“Yeah, well, forgive me if I don’t want to discuss this with you and all the other tourists and go-go girls in the street.”
“Izzy,” he began.
But she’d already turned and walked off into the crowd.
Chapter Nine
Izzy chose a bar at random, somewhere small and dark but luckily wasn’t one with go-go girls or a ping-pong show going on upstairs.
While Aleks ordered them beers, she found a quiet, private booth down the back of the bar.
Sliding onto the cool vinyl of the seat, she cursed herself for the stupid conversation they’d had out on the street.
She’d been having so much fun with him, just wandering and doing touristy type stuff, basking in the warm glow brought on by the unexpected gift of the bracelet. God, she’d loved it when he’d threaded the silver band onto her wrist. Loved that he’d noticed her disappointment in not being able to afford it, then going and buying it for her himself.
Loved holding his hand as they’d walked through the crowds. Okay, so he’d still been his detached self on the surface yet his hand in hers had been relaxed, the tension gone from his face.
Until she’d started asking him questions.
Izzy hit the table, bracelets jangling, frustrated both with herself and with him.
He hadn’t told her the whole of his story, but from what she’d heard, he certainly had had more than his fair share of shit in his life. So was it wrong to want to know if he was happy? Or to care about the answer?
She hadn’t appreciated him pointing out the fact that they were lovers only, either. It felt like she’d been put very firmly in her place. Like once again her feelings didn’t count.
So what are your feelings exactly?
She swallowed and slumped against the back of the booth. Good question. Aleks was an amazing lover. A complex man with baggage enough to sink an ocean liner. Guarded and reserved. Cold and yet at the same time burning like a banked volcano. A man of contradictions. He fascinated and frustrated and mesmerised her all at once.
“Here.” An icy cold bottle of beer was put down on the table in front of her as Aleks slid into the booth seat opposite.
The humidity of the night had made her unbearably thirsty so she grabbed it, took a sip and sighed as the ice-cold liquid went down. “Man, that’s good. Thank you.”
Aleks leaned back against the seat, looking at her in his usual intense way. “I think we need to get some things out in the open, right here and now.”
She lifted the beer to her lips again, took another sip, tried to ignore the tension that had crept into her neck and shoulders. “What things?”
“Things like us. What’s happening between you and I isn’t going to go anywhere, Izzy.”
“Oh really? And did you see me angling for a wedding ring at any stage?”
“No, but you were certainly surprised when I told you I have to start my preparation tomorrow and didn’t have time for you.”
“I wasn’t surprised.” Izzy didn’t look at him, staring at the pitted wood of the table instead. She didn’t understand why the flat statement should hurt so much.
“You were hurt then.”
“Yeah, okay, I was hurt.” She lifted her chin and looked across the table at him. “I thought we had more of a connection than that.”
“You keep talking about a connection, but I don’t know what connection you’re talking about.” He had that look on his face again, that detached, expressionless look.
“Okay, I get that you’re emotionally stunted, Aleks, but I didn’t think you were completely stupid as well.”
His gaze flickered. “So because we shared a few private confessions with each other, you think we now have some kind of connection?”
“Well, don’t we?”
“No. We don’t.” He sat forward suddenly, putting his beer on the table. “You need to understand, Izzy. I don’t want a connection. Not with you. Not with anyone.”
Her throat closed, the sliver of hurt in her chest growing sharp edges. “Why not?”
“Because my life is easier without anyone in it.”
“It’s also lonely.”
“I’m not lonely.”
“Aren’t you?” She stared into his eyes. Wanting to see beneath the surface of that detached mask to the living, breathing, passionate man she knew was under it. “I think you are. I think you’re terribly, desperately lonely. I think that underneath all that denial, you’re still that seven-year-old boy who just wanted a family.”
A terrible, awkward silence fell.
Aleks’s gaze had gone dark, but she forced herself to hold it, not to flinch away from the sudden wave of anger she sensed coming from him.
“I know you think you’re pretty scary when you’re angry, Mr. Grandmaster,” Izzy said softly, “but I could take you. And in fact, I did, if you remember.”
He said nothing but this time it was him who looked away from her, his attention dropping to the beer bottle he held in his hands. “Stop pushing me. Regardless of what you think or your theories about my feelings, I have a chess game to play the day after tomorrow and I don’t want any distractions.”
“So I’m a distraction now?”
“Yes, you are.”
Another silence.
Shit, why was she even bothering to argue? Yeah, he may be fascinating, but his complications were so not what she needed right now. This trip was supposed to be about her, about what she wanted, her needs. Not about getting involved with someone like him.
She had to stop being so sensitive to him. She had to stop being so bloody sensitive full stop.
“Okay,” she said after a moment. “We spend the night together now, and tomorrow we’ll go our separate ways. Is that what you’re saying?”
“Yes.”
Izzy ignored the barbed sense of hurt that tightened her chest. She wanted something from him, an acknowledgement of some sort. An acknowledgement she clearly wasn’t going to get.
Still. It wasn’t as if he was entirely immune to her. He’d lost control after that chess game. She’d made him come undone. So he could deny it all he liked but she got to him. Yeah, she did.
And maybe, if she stayed tonight, she’d get to him a little more. Put a few extra cracks in that façade of his. It would be worth it.
“Well, I can live with that.” She picked up her beer, took another sip, dismissing the hurt. “So why don’t you tell me all about chess?”
“No. We’ve talked quite enough about me. I want to know about your drawing.”
The question surprised her. “My drawing, huh? I thought we didn’t need to know each other?”
He shrugged. “Don’t tell me then. But I’m curious. Most people take photos. Yet you draw.”
Izzy bit her lip, fighting a losing battle with resistance. Losing because if there was one thing she loved talking about, it was her drawing. “Yeah, I always have,” she said eventually, giving in. “I suppose if chess is your passion then drawing is mine. Ever since I was a little girl.”
“Is that how you earn your living?”
“Kind of. I’m a graphic artist—” She stopped abruptly, remembering. “At least, I was a graphic artist.”
“But not now?”
“I quit when I decided to come to So
utheast Asia. I thought it was easier since I didn’t know how long I’d be here.” The decision had been frighteningly simple. Frightening because she’d loved her job once and yet handing in her resignation had been easy. In comparison to dealing with Angie’s death, dealing with everything else was child’s play.
One black brow rose. “So you came here with no plan at all?”
“No,” she said. “I just wanted to get away from all the crap to do with Angie. I cleaned out my savings and…” she raised a hand, made a shooting motion with it, “…bam. I was out of there.”
“When are you going back then?”
Funny he should ask that question. Funny he should want to know. Izzy took another sip of her beer. Then she looked at him. “I’m not.”
Izzy sat with a curiously defiant look on her face as if daring him to argue with her. In her blue silk wrap, her narrow white shoulders exposed, white-blonde curls everywhere, she looked so fragile. But the expression in her eyes was anything but.
He found that so incredibly attractive even if it annoyed the crap out of him. With her defiance and unexpected strength, she would never be a doormat. She would fight.
Holding his beer loosely between his hands, he studied her. “Not ever?”
“I…” She hesitated. “For the foreseeable future, at least.”
“So you’d leave your job, your family, your whole life, just like that?” He didn’t understand why. She had what he’d never had. A home. And now she was planning on leaving it?
Defensiveness crept over her face. “Yeah. I didn’t plan it when I left. It’s just how I feel about it now.”
“Why? Because your parents are ignoring you?”
She flushed. “No. God, that makes me sound like a sulky teenager.”
“Then why?”
“Because the whole atmosphere back home is like this big, suffocating blanket and I can’t breathe.” Izzy looked away from him, down at the table. “I’m tired of it. Tired of feeling all this anger and grief and…stuff. I just want out for a little while.”
“Forever?”
“Maybe not. I haven’t thought about it.”
Black Knight, White Queen Page 9
