Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 60572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 303(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 303(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
“Which is?” My tongue felt heavy, my mouth dry.
“Stay away. Leave the games to the Oligarchs. Enjoy your time as a student. Study hard, go to bars, party with friends. Pretend you’re normal for four years, or six, or eight. But stay away.”
“You want me to ignore the fact that you plan on destroying my family.”
“I wouldn’t put it that way. Your brother will put up a fight, and he might win.”
“He’d have a better shot if I let Nervosa warn him.”
Liam gestured as if he had no power over that. “I’ve said my piece. I don’t have a problem with you, Melanie. Nervosa’s taken a liking to you, and I want to stay on that man’s good side, which is why I’m being diplomatic.”
“And how do you act when you’re not diplomatic?”
He showed me teeth. It wasn’t a smile, more like a warning.
“Have a nice night, Melanie Orchard.” He turned and walked away, hands shoved back into his pockets, head hung low.
I watched him for a few rough beats of my heart before I looked to the side. Palm sat up with the rifle on her shoulder, scowling. She waited for Liam to reach the halfway point before she began to break the weapon down with expert motions.
Gods, Oligarchs. Palm was running around Stanford with a freaking sniper rifle, and Liam was making declarations about being raised and being made, and warning me about a coming war.
My feet tingled as I turned and headed to my dorm.
His offer was tempting. Normalcy was all I’d wanted since I moved here. But normalcy would never be mine, not really—it would always be nothing more than pretend.
And my family mattered. I loved my brother, even if he’d done something terrible when he killed our father. I loved my mother, even if she was a drunk, and mostly an asshole. I even loved my new sister-in-law.
I wanted something better.
Nervosa was right. We had to warn my brother about whatever Silvano was planning. And if it meant I’d get to meet my uncle in the process—well, that was a nice bonus.
Chapter 9
Nervosa
Griffin Deem lived in a small, bungalow-style house right off the beach. The property was worth millions, but the structure itself was plain, almost understated. I stood at the gate watching the front door, waiting to see if I could see a flash of movement inside, or if any of Deem’s men wanted to show themselves.
Neither happened. I always thought it was absurd that Griffin lived in this place, but he had his reasons. The smell of the ocean and the sound of the waves drifted through the air and I couldn’t wait to get the hell out of there. I’d have sand in my boots for weeks.
I unlatched the gate and walked up the front steps. An old surfboard leaned against the front railing, gathering salt stains. I knocked on the door and waited.
Griffin answered shirtless, his hair damp. “Nervosa. I was wondering when you’d pull your ass from the street and come inside.”
“How long have your men been watching me?”
“Since you parked.” He stepped aside. “Come on, get in here.”
I followed him into a simple living room. Couches, fireplace, television. Surf memorabilia lined the walls, most of it antique, some of it priceless. I sat and Griffin went to a side table with bottles of whiskey.
“Drink?”
“No, thanks.”
He shrugged and made himself one. When he finished, he sat down, not bothering to cover his chest. He was a good-looking man, well-built and proportioned, and he styled himself as a free-spirited hippie type, but I knew that was bullshit.
Nobody ran an Oligarch family and still retained their soul.
“What can I do for you?”
“Wanted to talk more about Silvano.”
Griffin made a dismissive gesture. “The plan’s absurd. I voted no. What else is there to say?”
“Vote was a tie.”
He shrugged and sipped his drink. “So?”
I clenched my jaw. He was messing with me. Griffin was shrewd, even if he pretended like he wasn’t, and morally inflexible. He knew damn well what Silvano was going to do next.
“Vote was inconclusive. We might as well have given our support.”
“Always thought having four was a stupid idea,” he said. “An odd number makes more sense.”
“That’s not the point.”
“What do you want from me? I voted no.”
“When Silvano ships his drugs out to Chicago and beyond, what are you going to do about it?”
His eyes narrowed. That was the crux and the question. What would we do when Silvano went ahead with his plans, despite having voted against him?
“That’s a dangerous question.”
“I’m aware.” Fighting among the Oligarchs had been strictly forbidden for generations. It was one of the few rules that everyone agreed on and upheld.
Except lately, it had fallen away. Like everything else in this ever-changing world, war came to the Oligarchs, particularly out east.
But we weren’t so blind to what was happening. I saw them killing each other, and knew that any one of my fellow western Oligarchs might do the same thing to me. I controlled powerful properties, and my associated mafia family was prosperous. Through them, I had a strangle hold on the drug trade all throughout California.