Luck Read Free

out and she taught my mum how to cook.”
    “That’s awesome,” he says. “My mom was an awful cook. She burnt literally everything she made. It drove my dad crazy. Growing up, I ate a lot of takeout food. I don’t know how I never got fat. We had pizza or Chinese food almost every night.”
    Tristan never talks about his family. I like that he’s talking about them now.
    “Your family sounds awesome,” I say.
    He tenses up. “Are you cold?” he asks, clearly changing the subject.
    And just like like, Tristan is done talking about anything personal.
    At least I got that much out of him.

    The accident.

    The second Tristan and I walk into the restaurant, I know it will be good.
    First, because it smells like home.
    Second, because the girl at the counter has a Russian accent.
    Tristan and I order our food. The girl asks me where I’m from, and I tell her. I get to speak in my native tongue to somebody who isn’t a psycho killer, so I’m pretty excited about it. I hope I get to come back soon.
    Tristan and I sit at a table close to the front, away from the window. He takes the chair facing the door, and I figure that is on purpose. Everything that he does is very calculated and always for a reason.
    He’s one of the smartest people I’ve ever met. Maybe in different ways that what most people would consider “smart”. He’s very analytical. Nothing goes unnoticed by him—ever. Tomorrow, if I were to ask him what the girl behind the counter looked like, he’d be able to describe her perfectly. That’s probably why he has the job he does.
    But he’s been very quiet since the car, after he told me about his family. I hate that he’s shut me out, but I don’t know what to do. Sure, he’s my bodyguard, but he’s more than that. Over the past month, he’s became my friend. And I want him to be happy. Especially since he’s stuck babysitting me.
    “Tristan, do you really think my dad sent me here so I could get an in with the kids here?” I ask. “So I could… you know…” kill them . The words die on my lips before I can say them.
    He looks at me. “I don’t think that’s the only reason, no.”
    “Then why?” I ask. “I can’t figure it out.”
    “I figured you’d know by now,” he says. “Your cousin goes to school here.”
    “My cousin?” I ask.
    “Jade Bello,” he says.
    “Jade. That means Dean Bello is my…” I let my voice trail off.
    “Aunt. Your mother’s sister,” he says.
    “That’s why Jade’s eyes looked so familiar to me. They’re so blue. Like mine and like my mum’s,” I say. “Wow. I have a cousin.”
    “Your aunt got you in here on a scholarship,” he says.
    “Why do I need a scholarship if my dad’s a billionaire?”
    “Because you’re not supposed to know he’s a billionaire. Neither is your mom,” he says. “He’s supposed to be an engineer, remember? Not a terrorist.”
    “Right,” I say, then shiver. I wonder how he got billions.
    The girl from behind the counter comes and brings our drinks and then goes back behind the counter to take the order of somebody else. I just sit there, wondering how many lives my father has taken. How could he? He knows how it feels to lose—first with his mum and dad when he was a kid, and then with his son more recently.
    “Katerina, I don’t want you to be mad, but I did some research on you… on your family,” he says. “It’s kind of my job. And when I was finding out stuff about you, I kind of ran across some information about the accident.”
    The accident.
    Those words ring in my head.
    “You won’t talk to me about your family,” I say, feeling defensive. The accident is the last thing on the planet that I ever want to talk about—with him or with anybody else. “So you have no right to bring that up.”
    “Sorry,” he says. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have. I won’t bring it up again unless you want to talk about it. I just wanted you to know that if you ever want to talk, I’m