Page 19 of Midnight Enemy

“So you think that Einstein and the guy who cleans the toilets were born equal?”

“I do, as it happens.”

I laugh.

She glares at me. “Why are you laughing? And why are you so rude about the way I live? I don’t criticize you and your beliefs.”

“That’s because mine are sensible and normal.”

Her eyes blaze. “You’re so incredibly arrogant.”

“And you’re the naivest person I’ve ever met. You think everyone’s born equal, money is the root of all evil, and society should be one big group hug.”

“And you think you’re better than everyone else, that money can buy anything, and society should be a kind of caste system where us poor minions should be permanently excluded from your privileged world.”

“Sounds about right.”

She puts her hands on her hips. “You’re an elitist arsehole.”

“And you’re a communalist.”

“That’s not even a word.”

“Sure it is.”

She throws her hands up in the air. “I can’t believe you think some people are just naturally better than others.”

“Not better. Smarter. More capable. More ambitious. I believe we make our own luck.”

She opens her mouth to say something. Closes it again. Then says, somewhat curiously, “Are you really a billionaire?”

I feel the first tingle of warning deep inside, but I ignore it. “Yes, and I didn’t get there by being born the same as the guy down the road.”

“Yeah, I get that. You were born into a rich family.”

Resentment flares inside me. It’s not the first time someone’s assumed my success is purely down to my connections.

“I was,” I say stiffly, “but that’s not what I meant. I’ve worked extremely hard to get where I am. I’m not a genius; I’m not even close. I had to work harder than most of my friends to get my first-class degree and a Master’s in Finance. I barely left my room at uni. I spent all my time studying. Since I graduated, I’ve worked fourteen-hour days. Sometimes longer while Kingi and I were setting up our business. Was I born privileged? Sure. Is that the reason I’m successful? I acknowledge it’s played a part. But I haven’t sat back and let the money do all the work. I’ve earned everything I’ve achieved.”

We walk in silence for a minute or so.

Eventually, the trees part, and ahead of us we can see the path winding toward the Waiora.

Scarlett stops walking, and I turn to face her.

“I’m sorry,” she says.

My eyebrows rise. “What for?”

“I made assumptions, and they were unfair. I assumed you were a rich playboy whose father had given you everything you have. I apologize.”

I’m so astonished I just stare at her. “I don’t think anyone has ever said anything like that to me before.”

“Don’t get all mushy on me. I still think you’re a knob.”

I give a short laugh. “Come on. Let me show you what I have planned.”

She precedes me along the path, and I watch the swing of her hips as I follow.

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