My Dark Desire: Chapter 58

It occurred to me that Andras’ invitation to train could be punishment before my execution.

After all, he’d reached new levels of cranky today. A miracle, considering his narrow range of emotions rivaled a psychopath’s.

Andras ripped his mask from his face. “Az lsten verje meg.”

He stomped off the piste, halfway through our training session.

I didn’t even know what I’d done wrong this time—other than show up early, focused and alert, annihilating his every attempt at catching me with his épée.

I unclipped myself from the wire, charging behind him. “Hey, we still have forty minutes left.”

He ignored me, storming into his office.

I managed to slip inside before the door slammed shut. “What’s going on?”

Hair clung to my forehead, glued by sweat. I swiped it away, bouncing from foot to foot.

We’d managed to ignore the elephant in the room all morning, but I had a feeling said elephant was about to crush the little hope I had into dust.

“There is no point, Fae.” Andras collapsed into his seat, lighting up a cigarette despite the no-smoking zone. “Vege. Your career is in an existential crisis. No matter how talented and motivated you are, you have no future in fencing.” He reclined in his seat. “Pretending otherwise is cruel to you and a waste of my own precious time.”

I remained standing, frowning at him. “Then, why did you wait three-quarters of our session to tell me this?”

Heat set my cheeks ablaze.

Andras hitched a shoulder up. “I tried to spare you my thoughts.”

“You’ve never done that before.”

He sucked on the cigarette, releasing a plume of smoke between his thin lips. “I wanted to take one last look at your craft before giving you my decision.”

“Oh, yeah?” I crossed my arms. “What’s the verdict?”

“You’re ready for the Olympics.” He tapped his cigarette on his ashtray, a deep frown still marring his face. “Remember my friend on the IOC?”

He had many friends high up on the International Olympic Committee. His reputation as Andras Horvath preceded him, after all.

I nodded, though it could be anyone. “Sure.”

“We discussed you all week.”

I inched forward. “And?”

“He went back to the committee. They are willing to give you a second chance if you pay the rest of your fee upfront.”

My heart rioted against my ribcage.

I could do that.

Now that Zach footed my legal bill, I could actually do it.

Hope cluttered my throat, thickening my voice. “Do you think there’s a chance?”

“Can’t promise anything.” Two columns of gray smoke shot from his nostrils. “But it is a possibility.”

“We should try.” I splayed my fingers on his desk, leaning in. So much for accepting my retirement. “I’ll do whatever it takes. We’ll practice twice a day. I’ll pay the rest of the fee upfront⁠—”

“There are strings attached.”

I blinked at him, waiting.

He used the lit ember of his cigarette to erect a small mountain of ash on the tray. “You drop that silly lawsuit against your stepmother and leave your father’s family alone.”

His words knocked the wind out of me.

I stumbled back from their force.

Your father’s family.

What was I to him? A Christmas decoration?

Why wouldn’t I fight against injustice? Vera fabricated the will and robbed Dad of his last wishes. Retiring at our company had always been my endgame.

Fencing was the dream—but it wasn’t a long-term career. And I refused to be shamed into submission.

After all, a rose doesn’t survive without its thorns.

“She made up a whole will.” I tossed my hands up. “She stole my father’s art collection, sold his entire⁠—”

Andras crashed a fist onto his desk, shaking its contents with the force. “Enough.”

I shut my mouth, but I refused to move an inch.

He stood, panting, screwing the cigarette butt inside the ashtray. “I do not care about your family drama. I do not care about this Vera woman. Or about your sisters. Your mind is off the piste when you are busy fighting them. Either you are all in, or you are all out. I am not going to let you waste my time while you spread yourself thin.”

I didn’t understand why training for the Olympics and bringing Vera down were mutually exclusive.

“I’m not spreading myself thin.” I shook my head, rushing words out. “Fencing takes top priority. The Vera thing is handled by the lawyers and a private investiga⁠—”

“Private investigator?” Andras’ face splotched like strawberry ice cream. He jabbed his finger at me. “You have lost whatever mind you had. Consider this my ultimatum. Either you leave this nonsense alone and move on with your life, or I am done training you.”

“This isn’t fair.” I curled my hands into fists, shaking so hard I practically vibrated. “This has nothing to do with fencing.”

“Everything has to do with fencing.” Andras rounded the desk, sloping against it. He folded his arms over his belly, regulating his tone. “If I bring you to the Olympics, you must listen to me. You will let things go when I tell you to. You will eat from the menu I give you. You will obey my every request.” His nostrils flared. “And my first request is for you to drop it all. The private investigators. The lawyers. The nonsense. Stop living in the past, Farrow. Start working for the future.”

Neither of us backed down.

Our eyes refused to budge.

There was so much I wanted to say. Plea, beg, explain, bargain.

He towered over me in height and build. I stood in the shadow of the Andras Horvath. Legendary instructor. Urban myth.

But at the end of the day, he hadn’t only pushed me to give up on justice. He wanted me to give up on who I was.

“If it’s all or nothing…” I stepped back. “I’d rather have nothing.”

I turned, storming out of his office.

A litany of Hungarian profanities blasted through the door. Glass shattered. Furniture knocked to the ground.

I grazed a fingertip over his name plate fastened on the wall. “Goodbye, Andras.”