But Larkin isn’t done.
“Oh yeah. Why I don’t do jiu-jitsu anymore?” He laughs. Too loud. “Man, that’s actually kind of funny.”
We stop. Something in his tone makes my skin prickle.
Ethan turns around. “Funny how?”
“I only went to your class because I was getting paid.” Larkin takes another swig from his mug. “Private investigator gig. Had to investigate this girl’s life. Find everyone she knew. Map her whoooooole fucking orbit.”
The world tilts slightly.
Oh no.
“What are you talking about?” Ethan’s voice sounds distant.
“Some billionaire hired me.” Larkin waves his hand vaguely. “Marco Fiore. You know, the restaurant guy? Man, what I would do with his billion dollars.”
Ethan and I exchange looks. His face has gone very still. The way it does before he tells someone their loved one didn’t make it.
“You’re saying Marco Fiore hired you to investigate my sister?” Ethan’s voice is dangerously quiet.
“Yeah. Figure out who she hung out with. Where she went. Who mattered to her. Likeyou!” Larkin giggles, seeming genuinely oblivious to the bomb he just dropped. “Had to embed at your gym to getclose. Easy money though. Just had to show up, roll around on the mats, take some notes. Then I gave him the report and that was that.”
The report.
The report that enabled Marco to “randomly” befriend my brother.
The report that let him orbit my life without me knowing.
The report that means everything... every moment... every conversation... every breath we counted together.
All of it was built on surveillance.
And a sham friendship with my brother.
My face burns. The kind of heat that has nothing to do with alcohol and everything to do with humiliation so complete it feels like a second skin.
When you realize you weren’t falling in love.
You were being stalked.
Ethan’s hand is on my arm. Steady and grounding.
“We’re leaving,” he says.
Larkin goes back to his drink, completely unaware he just detonated a friendship.
And a relationship.
And maybe an entire life.
Ethan pulls me toward the exit. The cold night air hits my face and pulls me out of my dark thoughts.
“You don’t go back to his house alone, you hear me?” Ethan’s voice is tight.
“I don’t intend to.” My own voice sounds hollow. Automated, even. Like I’m reading lines from a script I never auditioned for.
“We’re going to have a little talk with Marco right now,” Ethancontinues.
