Chapter Nine: Easy to Hate

The hand grabbing my arm is by no means gentle.

“I can stand on my own.”

I snap, trying to twist free, but of course, Beaumont’s hold doesn’t budge; he doesn’t even look at me, just drags me from the soft sand until finally the ground transitions to the pavement, and that, eventually, turns to the tarmac.

A black Bentley waits, engine humming low, and a man in a suit and pristine white gloves stands holding the door open like this is some goddamn mob movie.

Hah! Must be nice.

“Get in.”

Beaumont says as he half tosses my body in the direction of the open car.

“Are you bragging?”

Is he trying to show me how easily he can replace his car?

“Get in before I really lose my patience, Noel.”

His words are spoken through gritted teeth, reminding me of which end of this stick I am standing on.

After a sigh that’s louder than necessary, I slide into the back seat.

I wonder if he will be lenient with me if I cooperate.

*

For a while, the car drives in heavy silence. No music. No small talk. Just t