Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 126003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 630(@200wpm)___ 504(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 630(@200wpm)___ 504(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
It was also the last time I cried until that night when Eason said Maart was looking for me.
“What are ya doing?”
I look up, startled to find myself standing in the middle of the kitchen holding the beers. “Nothing.”
Eason makes a face, but doesn’t ask another question. Just reaches into the fridge to grab a cutting board with two salmon steaks on it. He only barely glances at me as he pushes past. “Then come on. Let’s eat.”
I follow him outside to the main terrace. It’s so nice, with the sea breeze, and the ocean, and the sand down below. It’s not loud, either. You can’t hear the people on Ocean Drive because it’s on the other side of the building. And you can’t hear the people down on the beach, either. The waves drown it all out.
Eason puts the salmon onto a hot grill, closes the top, and then takes one of the beers from me and cracks it open. He tosses the cap onto the glass table. “Sit, Irina. You’re making me nervous.”
I sit. He’s put me directly across from him. Which is better than sitting next to him, but not by much because now he’s got a clear view of me.
“What was that back there?” He shoves a forkful of salad into his mouth and chews, locking his eyes on mine as he waits for me to answer.
I shove my own forkful of salad into my mouth.
“Nothin’, eh? That’s your final answer?”
“Just… I was having second thoughts.”
“About being here? Why? Because you’re gonna be alone with me? Do ya think I’m gonna hurt ya, Irina?”
“No.” I scoff out the word. “That’s stupid. I mean, maybe you could.” I look him in the eyes for this. “But then again, maybe you couldn’t.”
He just grins through my threat. “Yer that badass, huh?”
I shrug. “I know what I’m doing.”
“Hey.” He reaches across the table and has a hold of my wrist before I can even process he’s done this. I startle, pulling back, but he doesn’t let go. “Look at me.”
I look at him. Still startled.
“I know who you are. I know what you can do. Do you think I’d waste my time if I didn’t think you could do it?”
Do it? Do what? What does he think I want to do? Because I’m not even sure I know what I want to do. All I know is—
“Stop.”
“What?” I lock eyes with him.
“You’re thinking something. Something important. Say it out loud, Irina. You’ve got to trust me. We’re gonna be sparring tomorrow. If you were just some kid off the street, I’d go a little easy for a few days. But you’re not. We’re gonna get on the mat and beat the shit out of each other. You need to trust me.”
“Why would I need to trust you to do that?”
“Because there’s gonna be that moment, Irina, when I’ve got your arm locked, or your leg, and you’re gonna think, He won’t do it. But I want to make it very clear right now that I will.”
“You’ll break my arm.” My eyes are narrowed down into little slits.
“If you don’t tap, fuck yeah, I will.”
“I’m failing to see how this has anything to do with trust.”
“Because there are gonna be other moments, as well. Moments when you think, I know he’s gonna break my arm. But I’m gonna do this stupid countermove anyway.”
My scowl breaks.
Eason finishes the smile for me. “See? It makes sense. If you know me, you can get past me. And if you can get past me, Irina, you can definitely get past them.”
Now my frown is back. “I’m… I’m not sure who ‘them’ is.”
“No.” He shoves some salad into his mouth. “You wouldn’t. Because you killed them already, didn’t ya?”
“Not all of them.”
“No. You won’t ever kill all of them, Irina. They raise them up, ya know? Like they do us. They raise up their children to see us as things. Things to use any way they see fit. Ya hear people say it all the time. ‘Be careful, Eason. Those people aren’t like us.’”
“When did they say that to you?”
“At the parties. Well, after the parties. Wade and Davis would pull me aside the next day and say these things to me. ‘They’re not like us.’ It’s just an expression, right? Rich people, they’re exactly like us. That’s what we want to think. And I’m not talking about, ‘Oh, look at them. They have a nice house and that nice car. They go on trips and send their kids to private schools.’ That’s not what I mean, Irina. I mean ‘generational wealth’ rich. They made their fortunes hundreds and hundreds of years ago. And ya know how they keep it?”
I shake my head no, because he’s waiting for an answer.
He holds up a finger. “They lie.” He holds up another finger. “They cheat.” He holds up a third finger. “They steal. And they do this in the most disgusting ways. The most inhuman ways. You know this.”