He ghosted me.
Is this a trap? Is Adrian hiding somewhere nearby, so he can kill my father when he arrives?
I can’t even think straight. My mind is fuzzy, and a slow throbbing has started at my temples. Worst of all is a rising panic that makes my palms cold and clammy and my heart race.
“I-I’m not sure. Um…I’m staying at the Radisson Blu Astrid. Room 434. I’ll meet you there.” I end the call before he can answer and stand up from the table.
I need to get out of the restaurant before I start crying. I pick up the shopping bag and my purse and dig in it for a credit card as I stumble toward the door. I thrust it at our waiter when he hurries over.
“The gentleman already took care of the bill,” he tells me smoothly. “He asked me to give you this.”
He hands me a folded note, which I snatch and hold with trembling fingers as if it is my lifeline.
“Thank you. Thank you so much,” I say breathlessly, rushing out of the restaurant.
Once outside, I gulp the cold air, trying to calm my racing heart. I open the note and stand under a streetlight to read it.
* * *
Kat,
I’m so sorry for the torture I put you through. It was wrong of me to involve you, and I will regret how I treated you until the day I die.
I don’t expect your forgiveness, but I want you to know that for you, I have halted my vendetta against your father. You changed me, and you changed my heart.
You know my name and where I live. Do what you need to do.
I will think of you throwing pots. Finding your center. Being bright, beautiful you.
You took my heart, and I don’t want it back.
–A
* * *
“Adrian,” I whisper, pressing the note to my chest as tears stream down my cheeks. “You left me.”
I now know Delaney was right–I have abandonment issues.
Because I really shouldn’t feel like my limbs have just been torn from my body. Nothing–nothing–has ever hurt so badly as this.
I know the note was full of love. It was an apology and an honoring. But I want none of it.
I just want Adrian back.
Damn him! How could he do this to me? Could he really think him leaving me was a gift?
I suppose the gift is my father living. And Adrian couldn’t very well stick around with my father still living.
My stomach churns wondering what I’m going to do about my dad.
Do what you need to do.
As if. There’s no way I’m going to give up Adrian’s identity to my homicidal father.
My homicidal, sex-trafficking father.
Ugh. I don’t even want to return to the hotel. I don’t know how I’ll look my dad in the eye again without wanting to puke. I find a bench to sit on, so I can gather myself and think. I need to get a taxi or Uber. I need to get my story straight.
I unlock my phone to order a car, and I see the text messages are open. A whole thread between Adrian and my dad. The photos of me. His demands. My father’s replies.
I read through them.
The money went into my account? I open my bank app to check the balance and suck in my breath.
Almost four million pounds.
It’s still there. Adrian didn’t take it. He should have–it will be harder for me to make up a story about my captor when…
Wait.
I re-read the texts. A giddy-sick feeling comes over me as I consider my latest idea.
Yes…it could work. My dad will blow a gasket, but it’s better than him chasing down Adrian.
I open the Uber app and order a car.
I can do this. I suck in a shaky breath, hold it and let it out slowly to the count of ten, the way Delaney taught me.
I can totally do this.
Adrian
“I need the first flight to Chicago.”
I’m at the airport. After leaving Kat in the restaurant, I swung back to pick up my duffel from the hotel then headed straight here. There’s a hole in my heart the size of a tree trunk, and distance seems the best solution.
Besides, Leon Poval is probably already scouring the city for me. Funny how a week ago that would’ve been the best possible news. But now that I’ve resolved to leaving him untouched, it’s a big problem.
A worse problem will be if he shows up in Chicago. But I’ll deal with that when it happens.
Correction–we’ll deal with that. The bratva will have my back. And I wouldn’t cry too hard if one of them had to take Poval out since I couldn’t in good conscience do it.
“The first flight we have is tomorrow at 8 a.m.”
Damn. I was hoping for some kind of red eye leaving tonight. “I’ll take it.” I hand over a different passport and credit card than I used at the hotel and take the tickets. I consider staying the night at the airport, but it seems like it might attract attention, so I leave, taking a taxi to the closest hotel.