Chapter 47
47
I should’ve done this a long time ago .
I’m running.
Call me a coward. I don’t care.
For the past two days, I’ve done nothing but make lists.
Pros and cons.
For my love life.
For my career.
For my family.
I finally decided to do what was best for me after finding out Igor’s last name and googling him. Igor isn’t only a wealthy friend of Cernach’s. He’s a Russian crime lord and the son of an oligarch.
I already got myself wrapped up in the Irish mob and the Mafia. I’m not about to throw in an entirely different organization. I’d be a damn mob slut at that point.
My nerves rattle through my body as I dump all my electronics on my bed before double-checking I haven’t missed anything. I can’t have one item Damien can trace me with. I throw on a jacket and walk to the studio. Damien most likely has eyes on me, so I unlock the front door, as if everything is normal.
I snatch the duffel bag in the back room. Spare clothes and cash are shoved inside. A blue BMW is parked in the back alley with its headlights off.
Pulling a hoodie over my head, I duck into the BMW.
“Hi, Pippa,” Levi says.
Levi is the father of one of my dancer students, who’s asked me out on several occasions. Multiple times, he’s offered to use the company jet to take me on vacation. I’ve always declined the invites, but when he brought in his daughter for class two days ago, an idea hit me.
Levi was my ticket out of New York.
If I book a flight, Damien will know.
If I drive somewhere, Damien will know.
Cernach most likely as well.
Sure, Damien could hunt me down sooner or later, but hopefully, he’ll give up. He’ll marry Riona, and they’ll have a baby and live their lives.
Levi drives to a private airplane lot and parks. I throw my duffel bag over my shoulder, and he helps me out of the car.
“This is your plane?” I ask as he leads me toward a jet.
“My company’s,” he replies, rubbing underneath his nose and picking up his pace. “I can use it whenever.”
The sky is growing dark as we enter the jet. The fact that I’ve never flown shows how sheltered I’ve been. Levi is close behind me, and I swear I feel a slight touch of his hand on my waist.
I brush it off.
He’s probably making sure I don’t fall down the steps, right?
I stop in the aisle and take in the plane in awe.
So, this is how the other half lives.
Hmm. Not too bad .
According to Google, Igor jet sets around in one of these on the regular.
The door shuts, and I turn around to find Levi plopping down on the sofa .
“I knew you were in a rush to get out of town, so the pilot is already in the pit and ready to go.” He smiles. “I figured I’d tag along to keep you company. Maybe we can spend a few days together before I fly back.”
My stomach clenches, and I nod, trying not to show my disappointment.
I was so wrapped up in getting my escape plan together that I didn’t think of what I’d do with Levi. My dumbass thought he’d just lend his jet to a poor girl in need. No questions or favors asked.
“Oh, good,” I say with a smile, knowing damn well after this flight, I’ll never see him again.
A bit of shame creeps through me, like I’m using him.
But it’s not like I held a gun to his head and forced him to do this.
Since Damien covered my rent for a year, I have a healthy savings. I decided to put that money to good use and book a long-term rental in Hawaii. While I’d have preferred somewhere out of the country, I didn’t have time to wait for a passport.
I refuse to attend another Riona-Damien wedding event.
Refuse to hear their names and baby in the same sentence.
I don’t want to be under any of their thumbs any longer.
To stay under the radar, I booked everything with Lanie’s computer and a prepaid card. No matter how many anti-hacking software I install on my devices, Damien always breaks through them.
Levi collapses on the sofa and taps the spot next to him. I sit on the opposite edge, as far from him as possible.
From what I’ve learned about Levi, he’s a divorcée who works for some big-shot investment firm. While I haven’t asked his age, my age-dar is giving off mid-fifties range.
“Why are you sitting so far over there?” he asks, scooting closer.
“I just like my space.” Another forced smile .
“Would you like me to make you something to drink?” He points toward the bar.
“Water is fine.”
“Oh, water is no fun.” He runs two fingers over his mustache. “Come on. Have a drink with me, Pippa. We have a long flight to Hawaii.”
I clasp my hands in my lap. “Water is fine. I’m not a big drinker.”
Disappointment floods his face, and he whips around to make a mixed drink for himself. With a grunt of disapproval, he hands me a bottle of water.
All the kindness he had in the car during our small talk has dissolved.
Levi openly stares at me while returning with his drink. I clutch my bag to my chest when he plops down so close that he’s nearly sitting on my lap. When I start to stand, he slaps his hand on my thigh.
“I helped you out. Now, you help me,” he says, his voice a sad attempt to sound sensual.
Leave it to me.
Always choosing the worst men to do literally anything with.
“Levi,” I grit out, slapping his hand away from me. “Go back to your side of the couch.”
He rubs himself between his legs before attempting to grab my wrist.
I try to wrangle out of his hold while unzipping my bag with my free hand. I might’ve left my phone, but I brought other necessities. One of them being pepper spray. Damien told me to never leave my apartment without it.
My body tightens when I hear a gunshot and then a short, sudden crack. Levi grunts and collapses face down against my shoulder. Blood splatters from his face onto me and pours from his head .
I scream at the top of my lungs, attempting to push Levi’s dead body off me, when the shooter comes into view.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
“What the hell?” I scream. “What are you doing here?”
Damien smirks, standing tall, and slips his gun inside his waistband. “Oh, you didn’t know I got my pilot’s license?”