Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 77287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
I tap out a few attempts at replying to Sev, but then I delete each one before sending:
…You wish…
…Quit texting me…
…You’d have to choke me harder to make my throat sore…
“Mr. Knox, I assume there’s something very pertinent to the French constitution that you’re exploring on your phone screen right now?”
Dr. Sellwood’s voice cuts through the classroom and suddenly dozens of heads turn, all focused on me.
“Sorry about that, Professor,” I say softly, locking my phone and sliding it away.
“Weston,” Roman tells me later that night at the Kettle dining hall, waving me over to his table. “Come. Sit.”
Roman’s at the long table in the Kettle like he’s a king about to hold court. He invited a few of us Onyx guys to dinner, and I’m sure he wants to discuss the upcoming networking dinner.
I slide into the booth next to him as he finishes tapping out a text to someone. Roman’s covered in tattoos but they’re nothing like Sev’s. They’re all done in black ink, and most are just intricate patterns, spanning his arms and across his upper chest. He’s a private person, and keeps to himself most of the time, but I trust him more than almost anybody.
When Hunter and I were threatened last fall, Roman always stepped up. Always offered protection from his cousins and family ties to the mob.
But when I see him like this, positioned at the head of a long table and probably making some deal with someone over text, it strikes me that there’s so much I don’t know about Roman Petrov.
“Boys,” he says once more people are seated around the table with their trays of food, “this alumni dinner is going to be our best. Usually, we walk away with more connections than each previous year, and more and more offers. This year is going to be different, but even better for the longevity of Onyx Society.”
“Damn right,” Noah chimes in. “Roman cooked up something good for us.”
“What’s that mean?” Niko asks.
Roman just nods. “It means I took care of some things.”
“Roman has his ways,” Noah explains.
“You make it sound like he’s doing voodoo magic on them,” Niko says with a sly grin.
“Close to magic,” Roman offers. “But I need something from all of you, too. I need you to not be fucking lazy. There is information on every alum coming to the event in the Onyx shared drive. Look at it. Study it. Fucking memorize everything about the people, their companies, and even their goddamn favorite cocktails.”
“Why do we have to do that, if you already did your voodoo magic?” Ollie jokes.
Roman narrows his gaze. “Because I want them to continue respecting me and my family. Do you understand?”
The whole table goes quiet for a beat.
That tends to happen when Roman gets serious. We’re not afraid of him, but there’s a tacit understanding that we know when he isn’t fucking around. He acts like the society bodyguard and that means that he commands respect more than anyone else.
“Well, then I’ll be studying up,” Ollie says, breaking the ice for the rest of us.
“Your boyfriend could charm a rabid animal, you know,” I lean over and tell Niko.
“Isn’t he the greatest fucking thing on Earth?”
I puff out a laugh. “I wouldn’t go that far, but I’m glad you love him.”
Everyone breaks off into side conversations as we start to eat. Niko leans back in his chair, sighing.
“I don’t hate secret societies like I did when I first joined, but I still don’t understand you guys,” Niko says. “Aren’t you all rich and well-connected already? Why are you fighting for alumni connections like you’re wolves tearing apart fresh prey?”
“Because it matters,” Rayne says from across the table.
“Unfortunately,” Hunter adds, then hauls a forkful of spaghetti into his mouth like he’s starved.
“All of us are competitive because of our backgrounds,” I tell Niko.
He shrugs me off.
There’s a reason Niko feels differently than I do.
Niko only exists because our father went off and cheated on my mom when I was a baby. There’s a reason Hunter and I never met our half-brother until last year. Our father paid to keep Niko out of our lives, until he died.
Which means that Niko didn’t grow up with Dad.
And Dad’s form of abuse was like a slow-boiling pot of water that Hunter and I were trapped inside. Dad would be encouraging one moment and a monster the next. And if I wasn’t competitive in school, he’d threaten to disinherit me or take away my ability to work for his company after graduation.
Now?
Shit’s different.
I want to put every scrap of money Dad left me toward something better. Something good. But the rules used to be written out for me, and now I’m lost.
Do I want to start a charity? A nonprofit for abused children? Maybe something related to athletics, because sometimes sports were my only safe place growing up? I don’t know how any of that works. I desperately want connections because I need a mentor to guide me who isn’t cruel and corrupt like my father was.