Cynthia is sitting on my couch. Her legs and arms are crossed, and she’s wearing a nice short skirt. Her legs look good, and it’s hard not to stare.

“You sure your phone is on?” she asks me for the third time.

I check it. It has a full battery and is plugged in. “Yep.”

“No one has called you in three hours. Not even a text?”

Cynthia’s phone has been beeping and chirping non-stop, while mine has been dead silent.

“Uh,” I mutter. “My friends and I usually meet up at the bar for drinks.”

“You don’t call or text each other?” she asks, her brows furrowing.

“We, uh--”

“Oh,” she says, icily. “I get it now. You don’t have any friends.”

She looks down at her phone again, completely ignoring me.

“How do you know she’s going to call me?” I ask, changing the subject.

Cynthia looks up at me. “Losers used to play chess, at least if I can believe all those movies from the eighties. Now, you guys just play games where you shoot each other with guns and call in airstrikes.”

“Actually,” I say, “I play role-playing games, where--”

“Shut up,” she says. “I don’t care, actually. My point is, this is like a game of chess.”

She plays chess; that’s so hot. I imagine her casting her rook with one hand and squeezing my balls with her other.

“Depending on Amber’s next move,” Cynthia says, still not even looking up from her phone, “I will gain a lot of information.”

“What if she moves how you don’t want her to?” I ask.

“A good move forces your opponent into two equally bad moves,” Cynthia says. “I just made a good move.”

I grin wide. “With me, your knight?”

She scoffs. “With my pawn.”

“If I crawl all the way to the end of the board…” I start to say, but then--

Cynthia laughs, loud and genuine. “Then you’d become a queen, you idiot. You want to be a queen?”

“It’s the most powerful piece…” I say, but she’s still laughing at me.

“What does it mean if she doesn’t call me?” I ask.

“It means she is just a fiancée for hire,” Cynthia says. “Which is what I initially suspected. It means she doesn’t really love Liam.”

I smile, but now I’m not sure. Which woman do I love more? Cynthia, or Amber? Cynthia hates me, but that’s hot. Actually, Amber hates me, too...she’s just nicer about it. Well, she was nice about it for a while, at least. Before Liam Lions.

“And if she calls me,” I say. “Asking me to drop the charges, it means she loves him?”

“Yes,” Cynthia says. “I can’t believe you need me to spell that out for you. So if she calls, and she loves him, what do you do?”

This is the part I feel bad about, but I can’t say no to such a smoking hot woman. “I lure her here,” I say. “You’re not going to actually hurt her, right?”

“No,” she says. “I’m not going to hurt her.”

I try to swallow, but it gets stuck in my throat.

“If you’re going to really hurt her,” I say, “then I won’t lure her here…”

Cynthia gives me a death stare.

“I mean,” I say. “You said you wouldn’t hurt her, so I will lure her--”

There’s a knock on the door.

“What the hell!” Cynthia hisses. “I thought you don’t have any friends!”

“I don’t!” I hiss back.

Damn it! I shouldn’t have admitted that.

“Who is it then?” she asks.

I shrug.

“Go check!” she rasps, pointing to the door. “Use the peephole.”

I quickly look through it, and I see Amber standing outside my door.

I look back at Cynthia. “It’s her.”

“Who?” she whispers.

“Amber.”

“I have to hide,” Cynthia says. “In your bedroom.”

“Wait,” I grab her arm.

She doesn’t tell me to let go, but she looks up at me with such icy anger that I let go without thinking.

“If…” I stammer. “If she sees you here, she might feel jealous, and she might--”

She shoves me toward the door. “Same plan as before, but in person instead of by phone. Got it?”

She turns her back to me and disappears into the bedroom.

I steel myself and open the door.