Total pages in book: 166
Estimated words: 169305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 847(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 169305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 847(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
Zach casted a warning look. “No more asks.” He produced his phone, did a few swipes, and handed it to me. “You should not be rewarded for your appalling behavior.”
I peered down at the screen, noting the name of an AI app he’d just acquired by force. It transcribed conversations and converted them into contracts in real time, discarding all the useless back and forth in between. We operated on different levels, him and I. The sooner I accepted that, the less miserable the next six months would be.
I scribbled my chicken-scratch signature on the screen and licked my lips, half exhilarated, half shocked at what just happened. I’d thought he’d intended to pull me into his lap and give me a good spanking. Instead, I escaped with a new job far cushier than my current one and the opportunity to finally run away from a horrible fate.
He retrieved his phone from me, careful not to make physical contact.
I squinted. “You can’t possibly be doing this as a slap on the wrist or to beat me at Go.” But I wasn’t so sure. Rich people spent their money in crazy ways. That’s why the rest of us wanted to eat them. “What else do you have to gain from this?”
“I wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise.” His frosty tone warned me to toss his phone down the garbage disposal and escape while I could. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some words to exchange with your… mother.”
He stalked toward the living room, not sparing me a glance on his way out of the kitchen.
“Hey, Zach?”
He stopped but didn’t turn around. “Yes, Little Octopus?”
Was the stupid, absurd nickname actually growing on me? It wasn’t sexy at all, but I kind of liked the meaning.
I grinned. “I figured it out.”
“Figured what out?”
“How to get out of the pickle I got into during our game.”
My words were met with silence. I thought I saw his broad shoulders shaking, just a bit, in—dare I say—laughter.
“Monday. Eight-thirty.” He rapped his knuckles on the doorframe. “Don’t be late.”
“Sure. Try not to stab anyone when you lose your pants this time.”
Zach Sun:
@OllievB, call your hound off my little intruder.
Ollie vB:
My PI?
Ollie vB:
How’d you find out?
Ollie vB:
Whatever he discovered was supposed to be my sorry-for-dicking-my-way-through-your-prospective-bride-list surprise gift to you.
Ollie vB:
[SpongeBob One Eternity Later GIF]
Ollie vB:
That’s it?
Ollie vB:
No details?
Ollie vB:
Maybe they’re fucking as we speak.
Romeo Costa:
…
Ollie vB:
Right. It’s Zach. He’s allergic to cooties.
Ollie vB:
You never know…
This girl might be the one to cure him.
Ollie vB:
They could be fated.
Like me and Frankie.
Romeo Costa:
For the millionth time, my sister-in-law is practically a child. Stay five feet away from her for the law.
Zach Sun:
And an extra ten feet for Jesus.
Ollie vB:
It’s a good thing my dick expands.
Romeo Costa left the chat.
Ollie vB:
Was it something I said?
Ollie vB:
Wait… @ZachSun, you back?
Ollie vB:
Hello?
“Lazits, Fae. Accuracy requires a clear mind and a cleansed soul.” A fencing mask blanketed Andras’ face. “You are inside your own head, and that is not a good place to be. Focus. Mérd fel a távolságot.”
Check your distance.
My Hungarian skills hovered somewhere above fetus and below toddler, but Andras repeated the same commands often enough that I’d memorized them all.
He swatted my calf with his sabre. “You are standing too far. You are showing me your weakness. I can smell it all the way from here.”
Each admonition sounded harsher in his formal, contraction-less way of speaking.
I only half-tracked his quick leg work as he completed a balestra, replaying yesterday’s showdown with Zach in my head.
His taunt bounced between my temples.
I wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise.
With my luck, the surprise would be worse than the punishment I’d barely escaped.
I backed away from Andras, nearly tripping on the piste as he launched himself at me.
“Retreat.” He trained the point of his sabre at my masked face. “How do you expect me to prepare you for the Olympics if you lose focus in such a simple training?”
I didn’t expect him to get me to the Olympics.
Not after I’d already tried once and blown it in the most spectacular fashion.
It would hurt less if I’d lost out on a roster spot due to my shortcomings as a fencer.
Nope. My demise was my own doing.
A part of me—a big part of me—knew I didn’t deserve a second chance after what I’d done.
I yielded my sabre, refocusing my attention on my fifty-four-year-old coach. “Shit, my bad.”
“Nyasgem.” He punctuated his curse with a disgusted grunt. “Next time your eyes wander from my sabre, I will stab you with it.”
Focus, Farrow.
Before he makes a sieve out of you.
We’d switched it up today, using sabres to work on my leg speed. I’d gone for a long stretch of time without any training, courtesy of my new sixty-hour work weeks.
But thanks to my devil in shining armor, this would soon change. Working for Zach freed up more time for fencing.