Clover knew he was right. He had deliberately lured her to F3 with the promise of his queen and, going on the attack like that, she’d left her own defences wide open. His ploy even had a name: attraction tactics.

‘. . . Don’t worry, you’re not the first person who’s wanted to beat me more than they’ve wanted to win.’ His gaze met hers finally across the table, the first time they’d directly looked at one another during the play. She could see a thin navy rim around his pale blue irises, victory in his eyes.

She knew she had no one to blame but herself. She felt stupid. Humiliated. ‘Congratulations,’ she said, forcing a smile and extending her hand across the table. It was something she could do that he couldn’t – lose graciously. He looked at it for a moment before clasping it in his and she felt the small shock of that first touch again as their palms pressed together, his fingers on her wrist. Close, too close, to her pulse.

‘Good game,’ he said quietly, drawing his knees up and resting his elbows on them as he stared at her.

They both knew it was a game they were playing on and off the chess board.

Come and get me . . . I hate you too.

‘Well now, this is a sight for sore eyes!’

Everyone jumped as Julian suddenly appeared, coming up the stairs.

‘Julian!’ Matty gasped, very obviously gathering her legs in to run over to him – before remembering they had an audience. ‘. . . Fancy seeing you here,’ she faltered.

‘I’m just on my way to a dinner with the mayor,’ he said, looking at Kit as he walked in. ‘We’re discussing the finer details of the WST sponsorship deal, now that the furore from the other week has died down.’ His gaze swivelled between Kit and Clover, seeing their unbruised faces, noting their close proximity and the fact that they were playing a game together. ‘I’m really very pleased everyone’s looking so well.’

‘Can you stay for a drink?’ Matty implored. ‘You don’t have to run off yet, do you? There’s so much to tell you about Stomp.’

Kit’s gaze met hers again for a moment. A lot had happened in Saas-Fee, for them both. Other people, other lips, other bodies . . .

‘I’d love to,’ Julian said, unbuttoning the single fasten of his suit jacket and walking over to the drinks bar. He poured himself a gin and tonic. This was his house, after all.

Kit got up and removed the chess table, allowing Clover to move her legs and get up again. She rose, grateful for the opportunity to take a few deep breaths. Her loss at the game still stung.