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“Kade helped.”
“Oh,” he says with much less enthusiasm.
“You live off Zoodles,” Kade scoffs. “I could crack an egg in your mouth and it would be high cuisine compared to the shit you eat.”
“Crack an egg in my mouth?” Zima makes a disgusted face. “What kind of porn are you watching? Never mind, I’ll check your browser history.”
Kade laughs, while looking alarmed that Zima might follow through on that threat.
Ivan clears his throat, throwing a quelling look down the table. “Manners,” he says.
“Dad’s right,” Rafe agrees. “It’s ten minutes into dinner and we’re already discussing Kade’s taste in pornography. Have some class—save it for dessert.”
I can’t help laughing, and I’m relieved that Sloane smiles as well. She’s sitting at the other end of the table, wearing a black blouse and cigarette pants, her hair twisted up in a loose chignon. It’s strange to see her with her natural dark hair color, and even stranger to see her real expression, wicked and sly as a fox. I had no idea how much she was acting as Miss Robin. The real Sloane is sharp and sarcastic, and frankly terrifying.
I’m keyed up, talking hectically to Nix, laughing too loud. I’m full of nervous energy, building up inside me like a pressure cooker with no release.
Across the table, Adrik sits silently, not joining in the conversation. I’ve tried to catch his eye several times without success. Then, as soon as I speak to anyone else, I feel his stare burning into me.
Ivan is an intimidating presence on my other side. He’s a beast of a man with a brutal-looking face, a rough, rasping voice, and a gravity only occasionally punctured by his wife. Even when he addresses me politely, it sends shivers down my spine.
“You have only two more days with us?”
I wish I hadn’t just taken a massive bite of tri-tip. I chew and swallow as quickly as possible, half-choking myself.
“Yes,” I gasp. “I fly out Friday morning.”
“You’ll be missed,” he says with a polite nod.
There’s something courtly in his manners. I know he must have been barbarous beyond belief to claw his way to the top of the heap in St. Petersburg, but Ivan Petrov has a formality and a dignity that reminds me more of a king than a mafia boss.
There’s a reason this family follows him. A reason they were willing to risk everything to bring him home.
Ivan says, “I hope you have an excellent second year, without any interruptions.”
He means this as an apology of sorts, or a thank you.
With full honesty, I reply, “The interruption was the best part of the year.”
“If we don’t make trouble for Sabrina, she’ll make her own,” Rafe says from the other side of Nix. “She’s probably already plotting how she’ll land herself right back in the Chancellor’s office on the first day of school. That’s why she’s so extra tonight.”
This reference to my first ship ride over to the island is not as cheering as Rafe intended—it only reminds me that Nix won’t be with me this time.
“Yeah,” I say. “I guess that’s why I’m so lively.”
“You’re happy to be going back,” Adrik states, his voice cutting across the table.
“I didn’t say happy.”
“Lively, happy, what’s the difference?”
“Well, lively isn’t the same as happy. Is it?” Sloane says. She’s looking at me, not Adrik. And even though she’s smiling, there’s a stillness in her eyes that makes me think she understands exactly what I mean.
“Happy is harder to attain,” I say.
“Impossible for some,” Sloane remarks.
This doesn’t feel directed at me, not exactly. But it might be for my benefit. I wish she weren’t sitting so far away—I’d like to ask her what she means.
