Page 13 of I Will Break You
I could explain to Gavin that death isn’t the end of a relationship but simply another phase. I could tell him that my mind hasn’t yet processed the shock of missing Xero’s execution because I’m preoccupied with something that could get me imprisoned.
Explanations would be futile. Gavin is one of those men who takes the word no as the starting point to a negotiation. Whatever I say to let him down gently will be met with counter-arguments. Hell, I won’t be surprised if he ends up begging.
He reaches for my arm, and I rise off the seat.
“What are you doing?” I ask, my shoulders bunching.
“Restoring your account isn’t just a question of tapping a few buttons,” he says, his tongue sliding across his bottom lip. “It’s a very involved process.”
“Last time, you got me up and running in seconds.”
His gaze sweeps down my top. It’s a hoodie unzipped to the collarbone and barely shows any skin, yet Gavin looks at me like I’m wearing a push-up bra. “It’s different now.”
Different now that I’m technically single, he means. Different, now that he has something I desperately need. Once again, I don’t voice this thought. Instead, I back toward the sink, where I left a mug.
He folds his arms across his chest. “I charge five hundred dollars for each account I restore. The last time I helped you out was a freebie to demonstrate my talents.”
The tight knot of anxiety in my gut relaxes. I can handle a man trying to make a living, even if the way he’s going about it is creepy. “Fine. The creator fund pays out next week. Restore my account, and I’ll send you a grand.”
“That’s not what I mean,” he mutters.
Oh, I know exactly what he meant, but I refuse to acknowledge his attempt at bawdy barter. I don’t want to get into any arguments, especially so soon after killing the last man who attacked me in this kitchen. Two kills is an unlucky coincidence. A third would increase my chances of joining Xero on the electric chair.
“If it’s an advance you want, I can forward you what I have in my account and pay the rest next week,” I say with a shrug.
He grabs my phone, exhaling a long breath of frustration. “Fine. You got any cognac?”
“Sure.” I walk out of the kitchen, the tension in my shoulders loosening.
I don’t remember Gavin acting so thirsty at the academy. In fact, I barely remember him at all apart from the few glimpses from across the dining hall. Gavin kept to himself, sat with a bunch of day students, and never gave anyone much trouble. I, on the other hand, was the school pariah until I was expelled.
Most of my alcohol is out of sight, in the living room, which I only use for guests. A year after moving in, I found a liquor cabinet at a junk store for a steal. It was originally mahogany with intricate carvings and gilded accents, which I kept after painting it black. I lined its interior with black velvet to add a touch of luxury.
I take a bottle of Armagnac, hoping he’ll be satisfied with it, and return to the kitchen to find Gavin hunched over my phone. Without looking up, he mutters, “I ordered us some food. We can watch the execution while we wait.”
“No, thanks,” I say with a shudder and set down the Armagnac with a glass.
Gavin pours himself a generous portion and takes a long gulp. “Suit yourself.”
“Did you restore my account?” I ask.
He raises a finger. “These things take time.”
I lean against the kitchen counter, watching him tap a few commands into my screen before picking up his phone.
“Are you sure you don’t want to see? I paid X-Cite Media $99.99 for an hour’s rental.”
“What?”
He glances up, his eyes dancing. “Whoever shot that footage took a massive risk. That sort of thing doesn’t come cheap.”
“Why would you even pay to see someone die?” I ask.
“Same reason women set up entire fan clubs for serial killers, I guess,” he replies with a shrug.
“What is that supposed to mean?” I fold my arms across my chest.
He gazes into my eyes and smiles as though he’s delivered a barb that’s landed. That, or he’s finally managed to capture the attention of a woman. Breaking eye contact, I walk to the stove and pick up the vintage kettle Xero ordered for me online. Not personally. He explained he had a friend on the outside taking care of his affairs.