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)
My heart rioted against my ribcage.
I could do that.
Now that Zach footed my legal bill, I could actually do it.
Hope cluttered my throat, thickening my voice. “Do you think there’s a chance?”
“Can’t promise anything.” Two columns of gray smoke shot from his nostrils. “But it is a possibility.”
“We should try.” I splayed my fingers on his desk, leaning in. So much for accepting my retirement. “I’ll do whatever it takes. We’ll practice twice a day. I’ll pay the rest of the fee upfront—”
“There are strings attached.”
I blinked at him, waiting.
He used the lit ember of his cigarette to erect a small mountain of ash on the tray. “You drop that silly lawsuit against your stepmother and leave your father’s family alone.”
His words knocked the wind out of me.
I stumbled back from their force.
Your father’s family.
What was I to him? A Christmas decoration?
Why wouldn’t I fight against injustice? Vera fabricated the will and robbed Dad of his last wishes. Retiring at our company had always been my endgame.
Fencing was the dream—but it wasn’t a long-term career. And I refused to be shamed into submission.
After all, a rose doesn’t survive without its thorns.
“She made up a whole will.” I tossed my hands up. “She stole my father’s art collection, sold his entire—”
Andras crashed a fist onto his desk, shaking its contents with the force. “Enough.”
I shut my mouth, but I refused to move an inch.
He stood, panting, screwing the cigarette butt inside the ashtray. “I do not care about your family drama. I do not care about this Vera woman. Or about your sisters. Your mind is off the piste when you are busy fighting them. Either you are all in, or you are all out. I am not going to let you waste my time while you spread yourself thin.”
I didn’t understand why training for the Olympics and bringing Vera down were mutually exclusive.
“I’m not spreading myself thin.” I shook my head, rushing words out. “Fencing takes top priority. The Vera thing is handled by the lawyers and a private investiga—”
“Private investigator?” Andras’ face splotched like strawberry ice cream. He jabbed his finger at me. “You have lost whatever mind you had. Consider this my ultimatum. Either you leave this nonsense alone and move on with your life, or I am done training you.”
“This isn’t fair.” I curled my hands into fists, shaking so hard I practically vibrated. “This has nothing to do with fencing.”
“Everything has to do with fencing.” Andras rounded the desk, sloping against it. He folded his arms over his belly, regulating his tone. “If I bring you to the Olympics, you must listen to me. You will let things go when I tell you to. You will eat from the menu I give you. You will obey my every request.” His nostrils flared. “And my first request is for you to drop it all. The private investigators. The lawyers. The nonsense. Stop living in the past, Farrow. Start working for the future.”
Neither of us backed down.
Our eyes refused to budge.
There was so much I wanted to say. Plea, beg, explain, bargain.
He towered over me in height and build. I stood in the shadow of the Andras Horvath. Legendary instructor. Urban myth.
But at the end of the day, he hadn’t only pushed me to give up on justice. He wanted me to give up on who I was.
“If it’s all or nothing…” I stepped back. “I’d rather have nothing.”
I turned, storming out of his office.
A litany of Hungarian profanities blasted through the door. Glass shattered. Furniture knocked to the ground.
I grazed a fingertip over his name plate fastened on the wall. “Goodbye, Andras.”
Farrow:
Is the pantry clean enough for you now?
Zach:
Yes.
Zach:
But now we need to take care of the laundry room.
Farrow:
We didn’t do anything in the laundry room.
Zach:
Yet.
Ollie vB:
Neat, Zach. You should totally take her for a spin.
Zach:
WTF ARE YOU DOING IN THIS CHAT?
Ollie vB:
I told you my tech guy is great.
Farrow:
Consider me thoroughly disturbed.
Ollie vB:
Oh, come on.
Ollie vB:
It was funny.
Ollie vB:
For a SPIN. Get it?
Ollie vB:
Because you’ll be doing it on a laundry machine during a load.
Ollie vB is typing…
Zach:
Quick, Fae.
Zach:
Block his number before he makes a load joke.
Farrow left the chat.
Zach left the chat.
Ollie vB:
And what a load it is going to be…
Ollie vB:
Goddammit.
Athousand-page thesis could be written on the marvels of discovering sex for the first time.
Every time I exited Farrow’s tight pussy, the thirty-three years I’d spent outside of it felt like a total waste.
Unfortunately, she had things to do. Vera to ruin. A medal to earn. Romeo’s needy wife to shave. (Ollie walked in on them and managed to send pics before Rom tossed his phone down the garbage disposal.)
So, I found myself at the country club, working out my frustrations on the tennis court. Solo, as always. Whacking every ball the machine launched my way.