Kristine gaped at her. "You did not just say that."
"I did," Sasha said, taking a slow sip from her glass. "Look, I was just playing. It's not like I'm going to join his little collection of wives. But come on, Kristine—admit it. He got under your skin too."
Kristine looked away, her expression flustered. "He's just... good at talking. That's all."
Sasha smirked. "He's good at a lot of things, I bet."
Kristine shot her a look. "You're impossible."
"Maybe," Sasha said, laughing. "But I'm not boring. And tonight? That was the most fun I've had in a long time."
There was a pause, the kind that settles in after a storm—calm, reflective, uncertain.
"You really think you can handle someone like him?" Kristine asked softly.
Sasha looked at her, her expression suddenly more thoughtful. "No. But I don't have to. I just want to play the game. And Ross? He's the kind of opponent who makes it worth playing."
