An Unlikely Deal(10)

 

 

Oh for fuck's sake! I throw my Amex Centurion Card his way. "Charge it. I'll be right back."

Before he can protest again, I dodge around him and run out. Ava's gone. I search the elevator bank, but she isn't there either.

I drive my fingers into my hair and bite back a curse. I have to talk to her. Something I said-the thing about wanting what she took from me-scared the shit out of her.

I have to know what she did two years ago.





Chapter Four



Ava

You took something from me, and I want it back.

He can't know. How could he? I've been so careful. Used my middle name. There's absolutely nothing that can tie me to it.

But what if he found out anyway?

My belly churns dangerously as Lucas's words ring in my head. My fingers are shaky, and it takes me two attempts before the door unlocks. I shove the card in the slot by the entryway and run straight for the toilet.

The second my knees hit the cold floor, everything comes up. I retch until there's nothing left, until my stomach and throat are so raw it hurts to breathe. My legs feel like quivering gelatin, and I slowly sit back and stare at the wall.

Lucas has money, and he's very well-connected. Google told me he's related to some very powerful people.

If he really wanted to, he could figure it out.

I jerk my torso back up and dry-heave into the toilet. There's absolutely nothing left in my gut, but I can't stop. By the time I'm through, I'm completely wrung out. I collapse on the floor, feeling like a corpse.

Why did I tell him I had a flight to catch? What if he follows me to the airport?

I need a simple game plan, something I can stick to no matter how emotionally upset I am.

Deny everything. Pretend ignorance. Distract him if I have to.

Besides, it's not like he has any room to talk or get upset. What he had his brother say to me …

He has no right to barge back into my life like he's entitled to something.

Anger reenergizes me. I push myself up. I need to get back on my feet and keep living my life. Fuck Lucas. Fuck him and his money and his gifts and his entitlement. I've been fine without him, and I will continue to be fine without him.

I flush the toilet, rinse out my mouth, splash some cold water on my face. I'm still pale, except for the red splotches on my cheeks. My eyes look listless, and now that the lipstick's worn off, my mouth is almost ashen.

This won't do. I look weak and pathetic. And the wine stains on my shirt and jeans just add to the air of slovenliness.

I change into a fresh set of clothes-a fitted pink button-down shirt and black jeans-and reapply my makeup. I'm not great at applying cosmetics, but I know enough to make myself look okay, like I haven't just been ambushed by the former love of my life. 

Lipstick goes on last. I finally settle on a bright red. It's bold and aggressive, just the color I need to feel like myself again.

That done, I toss everything into my suitcase. I don't have the mental energy to organize everything neatly like I did when I arrived. But it doesn't matter. I'll have to wash most of it when I get home anyway.

I drag my rolling suitcase out of my room, my chin held high. The entire time I'm checking out and requesting the concierge to grab me a cab, nobody approaches. My eyes scan the lobby, but I don't see anyone except a few Chinese tourists lounging by the tables closest to the Latest Recipe restaurant.

In spite of that, the base of my skull tingles as I climb inside the waiting taxi. Relax, girl. Lucas is gone. Stop being paranoid.

I look back to make sure. There aren't any cars following us.

See?

He probably decided I was too crazy and split. Now that I think about it, my reaction was a bit over the top. Knocking the wine over and breaking the glass? Almost fainting? Running out of the place like my clothes were on fire?

I acted insane … which turned out to be perfect. Nothing repels a man better than a woman who looks like she's off her meds.

By the time I reach the check-in counter at the airport, I almost feel normal again. I slide my passport on the scratched and worn surface toward the airline representative. She takes my ID and types a few things on her computer, the keyboard clacking loudly. A frown tightens her forehead.

"Miss. Um …  There seems to be a problem."

Shit. "Is the flight delayed?" I really want to make my connection from Incheon to Osaka.

"No, but …  You are not on this flight. Are you sure you're supposed to fly today?"

"Yes." I pull out my phone and show her the email I received with my flight information. "See?"

"Mm." She nods. "But our system does not have you as flying today or … any day." She purses her bright pink lips. "Let me check something. I'll be right back."

She spins her wheeled chair, gestures at a middle-aged Thai man in an ill-fitting dark brown suit and gives him a thirty-second spiel in Thai. He listens, nodding a few times, then talks into his radio.