"I want to offer you something," she said, "and I want you to understand it is not what my son offers. He offers payment. He has always been a boy who thinks in payment; his father was the same and it killed him in a car park in Umraniye at fifty-four." She turned her glass on its saucer, and Zara saw where he had got that from, too. "I am going to offer you a place."
"A place."
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