Great. So I not only have to worry about this crazy guy, I have to watch out for a bunch of lunkheaded bodyguards. I click off the article and listen to some chillwave music on iTunes. The stewardess returns with my drink. My head is spinning. I need to zone out for a while.
***
My eyes open up as the plane lands in Teterboro, New Jersey. Wow. Seven hours goes by fast when you get yourself nice and drunk. I feel hung over. The Gulfstream doors open. Mr. Peak goes out to stretch his legs. I stumble outside. It’s nighttime. We walk across the tarmac as my boss runs his hand into my hair.
“Looks like you emptied an entire bottle of Vodka all by yourself,” Mr. Peak announces.
“And I haven’t eaten a thing today.”
“Not good for a small girl like you.”
Mr. Peak gets on his phone and makes a call. As he talks on the phone, I gaze at the Manhattan skyline in the distance. My boss hangs up and says, “We’re having a full course dinner ready for us when we get back into the air.”
Wouldn’t you know it. About thirty minutes later, an SUV shows up with a cart of salad, roasted chicken, steak and dessert. My boss certainly knows how to get anything he wants, whenever he wants it.
We go back aboard the Gulfstream. The food smells great! I start off with a Caesar salad. Then I dig into this really juicy roasted chicken. To top it all off, there is a slice of real New York cheesecake. This is certainly a far cry from the usual airline food.
After that great dinner, my worries are behind me. I start thinking about the great time I am going to have in Monaco. Mr. Peak gets on his phone and begins to talk to various people in French as well as some other languages I can not decipher.
I return to my iPad and continue my research on Odostan. I have to stop being a wimp. Yes, Sergey is a f**king maniac. I could die. But if you don’t risk it all, you can’t win it all. I look at my boss and this is a man who backs down to nothing and no one. Because he backs down to nothing and no one, he has everything. I want everything. I want to win.
As the Gulfstream flies over the Atlantic, I continue to learn more about the brutal Modilak family. Both President Yuri Modilak and Sergey Modilak are degenerate gamblers. This may explain why Mr. Peak insists on the meeting taking place in Monaco. Sergey won’t be able to resist the Monte Carlo casino. Perhaps, if I can keep him gambling, he won’t notice that General Zhukov is off planning the overthrow of Odostan.
My mind races at the possible scenarios that could take place. I could be kidnapped. Sergey may attack me. One of the bodyguards may attack me. I think of every possible escape measure to keep myself alive. In every escape scenario, one thing is paramount: Don’t Panic.
I lose track of time as I plan my rendezvous with the Dictator’s son. Just as my eyes are about to get heavy, Mr. Peak nudges my arm. “Look out of the window,” he orders. I look out and see the French coastline below.
“Where are we?” I ask.
“We will be landing in Nice, France. Then we will take a car into Monaco.”
The sun is just starting to come up. I glance at my clock and it’s about 5:45 a.m. local time. Golden morning light flickers on the beaches. The Gulfstream descends into Nice. Adrenaline pumps through my body. This is it. It’s time to rock and roll!
The plane lands at a little after six and quickly comes to a stop. Less than a few minutes later, the doors open. We are met by French Customs. Mr. Peak presents his passport. I do the same. There are few questions, which my boss answers in their native language. Whatever my boss told them must be effective because the Customs agents tip their hats and let us go on our way. Now, this is the perfect way to travel.
We walk to a terminal where Mr. Peak and myself are met by a fleet of Rolls Royce sedans. A group of men take our luggage and place it in one of the Rolls Royce’s massive trunks. Mr. Peak grabs my arm and walks me to one of the sedans. We get inside.
Under a minute later, the fleet of cars races out of the airport. All I can say is that being a billionaire means there isn’t a lot of f**king around at the airport. I check my watch. 6:15 a.m.
I stare out of the window as the sun rises over the French beaches. The Rolls-Royces speed towards Monaco. It just occurs to me that this is my first time in Europe. I had gone to Canada and Mexico a few times. But this is my first time so far away from home. It can make a girl’s head spin.
The cars enter the Municipality of Monaco. I am instantly hit by the density of wealth in the city-state. Ferraris next to Bentleys next to Rolls-Royces next to exotic cars that I can’t even identify. I look out at the port and see dozens of super-yachts. It’s as though this is a country made up completely of millionaires and billionaires. I remember reading somewhere that residents of Monaco pay no taxes. That explains a lot!