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Hundreds of roundsand several hours later, my hands were aching. Muscles I didn’t even know I had hurt, but it was worth it. By the end of my intense training with Ilya, I was a fairly decent shot, if I did say so myself. Up close was a breeze. Even when he pushed the targets out further and further, my shots still managed to hit the black silhouette, even if the shot wasn’t technically lethal.
“If you put enough holes in them, it’ll be lethal,” Ilya said with an oddly reassuring smile.
Once Ilya proclaimed that I’d done well, I allowed myself to feel a tiny flutter of pride. Aside from the practical value of knowing how to shoot, it was fucking fun. I wasn’t going to sign up for a gun club anytime soon, but now that I knew how to at least handle a gun, I could relax a bit on Rule #3.
“We should really go over the basics of Systema one of these days,” Ilya said on our way back home.
“Go over what?” I asked, eyes widening. That didn’t sound pleasant, whatever it was.
“Systema. It’s a style of fighting my uncle learned in the Spetsnaz. He taught me. I can teach you. Oh! And knife fighting!”
I shook my head with a smile. “A little bored with your new assignment?”
“Pssht.” He waved me off. “Hanging with you all day is nothing.”
“Yeah, I mean, you’re basically getting paid to flirt with Polina when I’m at the Adler.” I feigned an innocent smile when he shot me an insulted look.
“I’m not flirting. I’m there for your protection!”
“Uh huh. So am I the first person you’ve had to babysit?”
“No. I used to be on the team assigned to watch over Alina Sidorova. Nowthatshit was boring.”
“She’s Sergei’s daughter. How could that have been boring? Weren’t you going to parties all the time and traveling?”
“Yeah. Sometimes.” He shot me a glance, his nose wrinkled. “But she’s an artist. Most days, I literally watched paint dry. For hours!”
My laugh was cut short when my cell phone rang.
It was my mother.
Glancing at the clock, I couldn’t help but smile at the time. Bennett called it — the little birdie got the rumor circulating just after one in the afternoon.
“Have you heard from your father?” Mom asked in a rush of breath. I could just imagine her clutching her proverbial pearls with every word.
“Did you seriously just ask me that?”
“Our membership to Greenmore has been revoked,” she whispered into the phone. She was so high-pitched I actually squinted trying to hear her better.
“The country club revoked your membership?” I clarified, making sure I heard that correctly.
“Yes!”
Of course they did. It catered to rich people with zero morals. I tried to sound genuinely concerned, but it was really hard when I kept smiling. Strike One against Phillip Sinclair. “Sorry, Mom. I wish I knew what to tell you.”
“I don’t understand what’s going on! First, Carla cancelled our dinner plans with some ridiculous story about her husband wanting her to stay home and then when I went to Greenmore to meet Elizabeth for lunch, I was turned away at the door like a... like a…”
“Peasant?” Another smile shot across my face.
“Roan, this isn’t funny!”
I flexed my jaw, trying to get rid of the smile. “I wasn’t laughing.”
Her line cut out briefly and she gasped. “Oh, no! Now Anita is calling. I have to go.”
She didn’t even say goodbye.
Normally, I might have been a little miffed, but that conversation was the cherry on top of an already pleasant day.
