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)
“Holy shit,” I breathe out in a low murmur. The scenarios he’s painting in my head form like a black doom.
“I know it's a difficult time, Aurora, but we need to get ready for all possibilities.”
“Oh my God! What about H&H and Layla?”
“Harris is on it. I currently own H&H, so Layla should be fine, but I can’t guarantee they won’t harass her or her family. They should go stay someplace else. I have Harris arranging a safe hotel for them. Can you ask her to go with him?”
“Uh…yeah.” I pull my phone and wince when I find about ten missed calls from Jonathan and five from her.
Jonathan’s hawk-like attention doesn’t miss what’s on my screen and his tone hardens. “And next time, answer my fucking calls, Aurora.”
“I’m sorry. I…wasn’t thinking.” I’m still not — not straight, anyway.
“You were with Ethan.”
“I’m thankful he was there.”
Jonathan’s grip tightens around my wrist, but he says nothing. He also recognises that I shouldn’t have been alone in the midst of people who most likely would’ve gotten my head on a stick.
I dial Layla and she answers after the first ring. “What the F, mate! Don’t ghost me. That stuff gives me PTSD now.”
“Sorry, Lay. Something came up.”
“No kidding. Harris is at our house, saying we need to go, or something.”
“Yeah, Lay, please go with him. I…I’m so sorry I got you, Kenza, and Hamza involved in this. I’m so sorry.”
“What are you talking about?”
The whole case is public now, and she’ll see it eventually. However, I don’t want her to hear about it from strangers. “Maxim Griffin, the one who’s currently all over the news?”
“What about that psycho?”
“H-he’s my father, Lay.”
There’s no answer from the other side. It’s the first time Layla’s been speechless, and it’s not the good type.
“A-are you going to say something?”
“Wait up. So you’re, like, the daughter who reported him?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh.”
“I’m s-so sorry, Lay. I know I should’ve told you before and I’m sorry you guys will be implicated in this when my new identity is revealed, so just tell them you didn’t know. Say I played you, lied to you.”
“Bollocks. Where are you?”
“I’m leaving for a bit. Please follow Harris. It’s for your own safety. Please.”
“We’ll go to our relatives in Birmingham. Don’t worry about us. You just take care of you, okay?” Her voice turns brittle at the end and she pauses before saying, “Remember, you’re my ride or die, mate. I’ve got you.”
“Lay…” I choke on my tears, gripping the phone hard.
By the time I end the call, I’m too emotional to talk. The fact that Layla is on my side without even hearing the full story squeezes my heart. I didn’t know I needed her support until now.
Jonathan takes the phone from between my fingers and powers it off.
“Why are you taking it away?”
“Journalists will start bugging you.”
The rest of the way is spent in silence as Jonathan holds my hand in his lap, still stroking my skin.
If it weren’t for my loud thoughts that don’t seem like they’ll be cooling down anytime soon, I would’ve fallen asleep on his lap like I usually do when we’re in a long car ride.
We arrive at a secluded landing area of an airport and a plane waits for us. When we come out, Jonathan places a hand on the small of my back and leads me to it. Moses carries bags, which I didn’t know were already packed and loaded, from the car.
The flight attendant, a redhead with a blinding smile, welcomes us in. Jonathan doesn’t release me until we’re inside, and that’s only because the entryway doesn’t fit two people at the same time.
The luxury is clear in the furnishings, from the dark ceiling and flooring to the light caramel plush seats that appear custom-made.
The only flights I’ve ever taken were from Leeds to Glasgow, then from Glasgow to London. And those were the lowest classes available. I have no idea what first-class looks like, but something tells me this is a step further.
It isn’t until we’re completely inside that I notice no one but us is here.
“Did you book the entire flight?” I ask Jonathan.
“Didn’t need to. This is my private jet.”
Right. Not that it should be a surprise that Jonathan has his own jet. He travels around the world a lot. Or that’s what he did before I came along, as Harris likes to remind me in his snobbish tone.
He lets me sit by the window as if he remembers when I told him that I’d never left the UK. I’ve never had the chance to look out from a window seat and have always wondered what it would feel like.
Jonathan fastens my seatbelt, then does his own as a suave male voice fills the space.
“Welcome aboard, Mr King and Miss Harper. We’ll be taking off in a few minutes, so please fasten your seatbelts. We will reach our destination in approximately thirteen hours. I wish you a comfortable flight.”