Page 51 of Forgotten Sacrifice

She waves her hand. “But it’s my job to fuss.”

“Vince has laundry. His lady friend was, ahem, over last night.”

“Poor Sophie. Vince will never…” She trails off.

“Never what?” I pounce.

“Oh, settle down, dear.”

“Is he a big ladies man?” Sophie acted like that’s the case, but Vince doesn’t really give me player vibes. Then again, the man’s a mystery to me.

She makes the sign of the cross. “I’ve already said too much. Go bag up your laundry for me.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I do as I’m told, leaving my bag of dirty clothes by the door.

Returning to my spot on the couch, I resume study of my mortal enemy—second only to Vince—Wesley Morrell.

I grab my headphones and place them over my ears, hitting play on my laptop to study Wesley’s best performance of all time.

Watching the game unfold, I hold my breath when I realize the GM has made a queen sacrifice. In my opinion, it’s the ballsiest move in all of chess—deliberately giving up the most powerful piece on the board, and that’s not without major risk. But in this case, it works out beautifully, leading the GM to victory in an impressive nine moves.

“Damn,” I mutter to myself.

I lean back and close my eyes, carrying a chess board through my mental “house.” Stepping outside on the veranda, I place my board on the wrought iron table and move the pieces—just as Wesley did in his game. The lovely scent of roses dance on the breeze as I take a bite of delicious cake. Looking down, I realize I’m eating cake withyellowroses, andyellowroses are growing on vines all around me.

“No!” Snapping my eyes open, I rip off my headphones and toss them on the couch.

“Luna, are you alright?” The housekeeper asks from the doorway.

“I’m fine.”Only that Vince fucked up my world, and now he’s fucking up my mnemonic world.“Let me help you carry those out.” I hop up and grab the bag of dirty sheets—sheets probably covered in jizz from Vince fucking Sophie.

Hisgirlfriend.

I unclench my jaw.

After the housekeeper leaves, I return to my chess studies.The hours tick by, but Vince still isn’t home. Maybe I did push him too far…

Well, if I did, a few more inches won’t hurt.

I hustle to Vince’s room, starting in the bathroom and working my way out. Opening the medicine cabinet, I grab an old bottle of antibiotics. Giving it a shake, it feels too light, and I open it to find a rolled up hundred dollar bill.

Ah, so Vince squirrels money away in odd places. I used to do the same thing to keep my cash hidden from my dad; otherwise, he’d piss it away on booze. Pocketing the money, I continue going through the vanity drawers.

Grabbing Vince’s aftershave, I open the bottle and bring it to my nose, inhaling. It’s nice; spicy and masculine without being overpowering.

What if this was a gift from Sophie?

That intrusive thought has me slamming the cap back on and shoving the bottle in the drawer.

Continuing my search, I don’t find any women’s items. Odds are Vince never let hisgirlfriendkeep anything at his house.

Finishing my search of the bathroom, I move to his closet. I run my fingertips over the smooth Italian silk ties before admiring a designer watch collection on the shelf. I think about pocketing the most expensive-looking one to pawn later, but decide against it. If Vince notices his watch missing, he’ll know I was in his room.

Making sure everything’s exactly how I found it, I close the closet door and move my search to Vince’s dresser. Neatly folded clothes, underwear, and socks. Finding more hidden cash, I pocket the bills.

Opening Vince’s nightstand, I find a box of condoms and lube. The unbidden memory of the bed squeaking has me slamming the drawer shut.

I exit the bedroom and try Vince’s office door, but it’s locked.