Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92071 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92071 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
For the rest of the day though, and despite the fact I didn’t explicitly ask for it, Lorenzo kept sending me videos of her as she went about her day. I didn’t mean to monitor her but it was a guilty pleasure to watch her.
She took selfies with some of the waxworks at Madame Tussauds, she sat on a park bench and had something to eat, she fed some pigeons the crumbs, she strolled from Oxford Circus to Piccadilly Circus which was so full of crowds of people it made me slightly nervous, but I trusted my men. I watched her window shop. Sometimes she went in, but she never bought anything.
I wondered why. How much did interns get paid? I didn’t think it would earn her much, though she did live in New York so it couldn’t be that bad. Of course, Marco had left her considerable wealth but she hadn’t sorted through any of it.
I phoned one of my assistants and instructed him to get one of my credit cards to her.
Chapter 28
Zola
“What is this?” I asked as the Amex black card was handed over to me.
“Mr. Moretti wanted you to have it. Whatever you need can be purchased with it. There’s no limit.”
I frowned. Why would he think I would need his credit card? Did he think I was penniless? Or did he think I was some kind of bimbo he had brought along for a dirty week in London?
I couldn’t figure out which possibility annoyed me more.
I gave the credit card a dirty glare and ignoring it, went on with my window shopping, but I was now getting more and more annoyed. After the aloof way he had treated me at breakfast as if last night had never happened, this was a slap in the face.
I didn’t need his stupid money. I had only hitched a flight with him and that was it. We weren’t here on vacation together. Apart from the bodyguards which I planned to pay him back for, he absolutely didn’t have to provide for me in any way.
My fingers flew furiously over my screen as I sent him a message.
What’s the credit card for?
In truth, I had been itching for a reason to get a reaction out of him all day so this was the perfect opportunity. I had hardly finished sending the message when my phone began to ring.
“Zola?” his smooth unhurried voice filled my ear.
“Why are you giving me a credit card to use?” I demanded hotly. “I have my own money and it’s not like you owe me anything.”
If I thought my angry question would be a gotcha that he would have to talk himself out of I was mistaken. His explanation was calmly delivered and made perfect sense.
“It’s for security purposes,” he said. “We have to be as vigilant as possible. If you use your credit card it will be possible for them to track your location. Use mine and you become a puff of smoke.”
“Oh,” I said, my great anger collapsing around me. “Why don’t we find a way to do this through cash? I could send you a transfer directly to your bank account and you could give me the cash equivalent.”
“That would work,” he agreed, and before I could say anything else he ended the call. I stared at the phone. I’d never met a more elusive man. I wanted more of him, but I didn’t know how to go about it. Every time I thought I’d made a connection, he moved away, further than he had been before.
Suddenly, an inexplicable sadness came over me. I looked around at the throngs of people going about their normal, probably pleasant lives, and realized I no longer had one. There were no pleasantries to be found in my circumstance because not only had I lost the family I had, but I had also lost my own life.
What was I doing here? I slipped my phone into my pocket and continued to walk along the street. The longer I did, the more deflated and overwhelmed I felt until eventually, I found a bench and sat on it.
I couldn’t believe it. Just a little while earlier I’d been celebrating the advancement of my career. A career I had chosen out of love and excitement and worked so very hard at, but now even that was going to be taken so abruptly away from me.
I was going to have to start all over again, under an alias that meant absolutely nothing to me. With no one to share my history or memories, and no one I could even trust enough to reveal it. I must remain hidden and invisible forever. What was even the point of living if I had to hide all the time?
My heart wrenched and I reached up to hold my chest. This was the closest I had ever come to having a panic attack. I took deep breaths, but I couldn’t find the strength to leave.