Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 85414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Which shouldn’t happen, because I make it my mission to not get interested in any other human being.
I didn’t sign up for being consumed by Aurora, and I’ll put an end to it…eventually.
I check the notifications on my phone. Since Harris, the COO, and I spent the entire day locked in my office going through possible companies to add to our arsenal, I didn’t have time to send her the occasional email that usually implies how I’ll fuck her that night.
Besides, she’s the one who wanted a date, so I thought she would be the one to get in touch.
There’s only a missed call from her in the morning.
It doesn’t add up, considering she never calls me when she’s at work.
Something tells me she’s not home, either. Otherwise, there would be some music playing in the hall. She does that a lot, especially when her black belt friend is around.
“Dinner, sir?”
I lift my head from my phone and shift my attention to Margot. She stands with her hands intertwined in a respectful pose over her white apron.
“We’ll eat outside.” I slip the phone back into my pocket. “Have you seen Aurora?”
“She didn’t come home, sir.”
Huh. It’s past seven. She couldn’t have stayed at work this late — especially since she insisted on a date.
“If there’s nothing you need…” She nods.
“Where’s Tom?” He’s a decent butler, but he’s usually hanging on to her robes, waiting for an order. I’ll send him to Aurora’s flat and Moses will go to her work since she has no other place to go.
But there’s also Layla’s family restaurant. Harris will go there. She better not be spending time with Layla’s brothers, or the night will take a dramatic turn that will end with my handprint on her arse.
I have no tolerance for other people in her surroundings, not even people I trust, like Harris and Moses. It doesn’t matter that she’s known Layla’s brothers for a long time, as she likes to remind me. They didn’t come into her life first — I did.
“Tom stepped out for an errand, sir. Is there anything I can do on his behalf?”
“Have him find me as soon as he’s back.”
“Yes, sir.” As Margot disappears, I retrieve my phone and call Aurora again. She’s still not answering.
I type an email.
From: Jonathan King
To: Aurora Harper
Subject: Where Are You?
Must I remind you of who demanded a date tonight? My time is gold, Aurora, so answer your fucking phone.
As soon as I hit Send, the screen lights up with a call from Harris.
“You’re just in time. I want you to go to —”
“We have a situation,” he cuts me off. Harris never cuts me off, which means this is serious.
“And?”
“I just got updated when we left the meeting. Maxim Griffin is giving an interview for the first time since his capture.”
“What?”
Harris’s voice continues in a grim tone, “From what I’ve seen, he’s accusing his daughter, saying it’s time she’s brought to justice, too. There’s an uproar from the victims’ families and the media about this. It’s not looking good.”
Fuck!
“Where’s Aurora?”
“What?”
“She must’ve seen it and that’s why she disappeared. Find her. Now.” I head out. Moses is stepping out of the car, but when he sees the expression on my face, he slides back in.
“I’ll get in touch with my men. Give me ten minutes.”
“You have five, Harris. I don’t fucking care what you have to do to find her. I need a location sent to Moses immediately.”
I hang up without hearing his reply. There’s no way in fuck I’m going to let her slip between my fingers now.
Aurora Harper sold her soul to the devil. It goes without saying that she’ll never be able to escape me.
3
Aurora
Disappearing isn’t easy.
I tried it before and it was like pulling my own teeth from my mouth. It’s not about changing names and going blonde for a few years. It’s not about cutting my hair and picking a different clothing style. It’s not even about losing my northern accent.
Those are the easiest parts of disappearing. Everything else that’s hard to change is the problem.
It’s about altering the way I walk so people don’t recognise me from afar.
It’s forcing myself to become a right-handed person after living for sixteen years as a left-handed person. That’s why my handwriting is rubbish, and when I’m exhausted, I switch back to my left hand without realising it.
It’s stopping myself from eating the food I like the most so that I’m not recognised through it. Over time, I’ve lost all joy in eating altogether and it’s become a chore.
It’s about erasing my habits and everything I used to take for granted, one by each bloody one.
Disappearance is about rebirth.
When I first escaped the Witness Protection Program, I kept watching over my shoulder and under every bed I slept on. I searched the wardrobes and installed three locks on my doors. I never slept with my window open, even if it meant drowning in my own sweat due to summer’s heat. For a few months, I moved from one motel to the other and covered my tracks in case anyone from back home was following me.