They made it too easy, she thought. Even from across the room, she knew he’d felt the world shift beneath him. The smug boredom had evaporated. The duke continued to hold his whiskey but didn’t move as he watched her.

Feigning the unintentional brushing of gazes was merely her opening move. She looked away—not shyly, but as though she had more important things to do. She waited for his countermove.

Nox made a show of dangling the bait around the lounge for a few minutes. It was time for her to move her knight in their game of chess. She’d been given a helpful, though predictable tip, about what the duke might find engaging. This display of intrigue required her to chat with another girl, stroking a slow, idle hand down the bare skin of the girl’s exposed back while casting sidelong looks at the lordling at the bar, heightening his anticipation with every moment that passed.

He’d respond in one of two ways. Either he’d remain passive and continue to push his pawns forward through hopeful looks, or he’d make a power play by buying her a drink.

The duke responded with the equivalent of his bishop.

He raked a hand through his loose, brown hair, eyes still trained on her. His body rotated toward the bartender, who’d been waiting for exactly such an event. The lordling ordered Nox a glass of red wine and held it aloft, beckoning her to him with the offer of the floral, gilded wine glass. It was bold, but not too daring—the perfect secondary play.

The next step was the most important. The opening had been performed flawlessly. The duke would need to feel as though he ran the match, confident in his victory long before she touched her queen.

With something of a wry smirk, Nox finally approached the bar and leaned into the space beside him. She mimicked his unimpressed boredom as if she were the one who needed convincing. It was a stalling move. She rested her elbow on the bar, arching a brow as she eyed the wine. Her curtain of dark hair tumbled over her shoulders. A common mistake game players made was showing too much enthusiasm. It was a faux pas she avoided by refusing to speak first. The highest-earning girls were those who prompted the men to do all the talking. And so, she waited. The duke lapped up the game, eager to catch her attention with each word.

“Would you do me the honor of having a drink with me?”

Her lips tugged upward, revealing a hint of teeth. She saw the pulse of hope and endorphins twinkle as if they were tangible stars in his eyes. She idly wondered what piece he thought he’d played and how far along he believed himself to be. She extended her hand for the stemware. She smelled the wine but didn’t drink.