Page 31 of Playing Her Game

I turn toward the window as I lean back and cover my mouth as I yawn.

"I suppose I should thank the internet for making sure you knew I was here," I say, because the silence between us feels heavier than the falling snow.

"Another candid shot for the collection." He says then cuts a sharp glance toward me from the driver's seat.

“You have a collection?” I joke.

His jaw tenses a bit. “I’m no bullshit Anna. I won't lie and say I was unaware of you until the other night.”

“Should I dial 911?”

He rolls his eyes. “I don’t need to trick a woman to get her in my vehicle or my bed.”

“You do know one doesn’t automatically lead to the other, right?”

“I’m aware.”

“Are you also aware that you’re not responsible to right their wrongs.”

His fingers tighten around the wheel, “There's still people in the world who do the right thing because it's the right thing to do.”

I've watched him play. I've watched his social media videos over the past few days. I know enough about his reputation to be curious, and enough about people to know a reputation isn’t the same as a person. The trouble is, the man isn’t on a screen now. He is right here, and I'm noticing things I have no business noticing.

“I’m aware,” I say, looking back out the passenger window. “I did some searching for a hotel. I’ll do more⁠—”

“Did I offend you?”

I look at him again, taking in the confidence with which he handles the vehicle and the road, his left hand resting lightly on the steering wheel.

“No. I appreciate the kindness. But you didn't have to come yourself," I say.

“I wasn’t going to send a driver. This is my mess, even if I didn’t throw the bottle.”

“Fair enough.”

He kept his eyes on the road, but I felt the weight of his attention. “And I wanted to see for myself that you were alright. That jersey stunt in Brooklyn, a broken engagement? Holding your head up like that takes effort. Must be exhausting.”

Something in his tone made the words slip out. “Can I tell you something, Rez?”

A low chuckle. “Tell me anything. I’m a goddamn vault.”

“Lenzin and I… we love each other, but it was never like that. Never romantic. Seeing him happy with Hildy… it’s a relief.” He glances over, waiting. “Our parents wanted a merger, not a marriage.”

“So, you two never⁠—”

“Slept together? God, no.” I laugh. “And the rumors about me and Aleks? Also bullshit.”

He smirks. “Arranged marriages are a little last century, no?”

“Look at the divorce rate.”

I catch myself then—leaning into the intimacy of the dim cab, confessing things I usually keep locked down. To a man I’d known four days.

“People marry for all the wrong reasons,” I say quietly.

“Can’t argue there.” His knuckles tighten on the wheel.

“I came to the States to see it for myself—Lenzin, Aleks… had to look them in the eye, meet the women they chose. Make sure they loved them, and not just what they can provide for them. They are my family.”