Page 493 of The Sinner: James

“It’s not their fucking money.”

“Of course it isn’t, stupid kid.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“Stop acting like that.”

He laughs like the spoiled brat that he is.

“Is this a joke?”

“You tell me.”

He muses.

“If you’re not one of them, who are you?”

“I’m a debt collector.”

“What money are you talking about?”

“The half mil you owe to the Azarian Brothers. I bought your debt from them.”

“It wasn’t their money.”

“Don’t waste my fucking time. It was theirs as much as it would be the Russian mobsters’ if you fought for them.”

“How do you know all this?”

“I have a crystal ball in my hotel room.”

“Motherfucker.”

“You don’t know shit yet.”

“I don’t owe you anything.”

“You owe me your fucking life. You think you're so smart running a business, yet you have no idea how to run it. Do you want to make money? Then use your brain, not your fists, and make some money.”

“Fuck you. I know how to run my fucking business.”

“Oh, yeah... Well, if you’re so damn good, why are you in hiding now. You can’t even use your fucking money. And don’t tell me that fighting for your new bosses is better. You know it’s not. And you’ll end up pretty much the same, if not worse. You play a game you have no idea how to play, kid.”

He stays silent for a moment.

“What do you want from me?”

“I want you to come back home.”

“No fucking way.”

“Meet me at the Belmond Grand Hotel Europe in an hour. My man will wait for you in the lobby and take you to me. If you accept my offer, you’ll fly back with me tonight.”

“Where?”

“Monaco.”

“And if I don’t?”

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