But the rest of it?
This isn’t the Oliver I know.
“Away,” he finally says.
“For how long?”
He blinks.
One blink.
Then a slow, deep inhalation through his flaring nostrils.
“Forever then.” I can barely hear myself.
His eyes dip to my lips like he’s reading the words. “What do you care?”
This is bad.
This is very, very bad.
It’s not onlyif he disappears, the new CEO will cut funding to Beeslieve.It’s alsoif anyone finds out that I was the last person seen with him and all of his cash before he disappears, and disappears good, I’ll be framed for murder even without a body.
Disappearing is hard, but if anyone can do it, it’s someone with the kind of money that Oliver has.
I lick my lips. “Do you have a plan?”
Oh, goodie. It’s the dead-eyed look that always accompanied my father telling me not to be a fool until the day I quit talking to him.
I curl my fingers into my fists and fight the internal rage that starts swirling at the implication that I’m stupid. “There are levels of plans when you’re leaving your old life behind. Clearly, you have the wholego with cash, get the fake passportthing under control. But your driving sucks. No offense. I get it. You don’t drive much, so you’re new to driving this much. Everyone sucks at first. I sucked at first. And honestly, for a long time before I suddenly couldn’t afford moving violation tickets anymore.”
“I don’t suck at driving.”
He does. But I let it go. “Have you ever been inside a ValuKart? Do you know how to use the self-checkout lanes in a grocery store? How are you going to get housing when you don’t have any credit history under your new name? You can’t pay for a house with cash. People ask questions. They asked me all of the questions when my father cut me off, and I didn’t even need to get my own place for a while after that. Just a new phone line and bank account. They’re going to ask yousomany questions.”
He's still glaring at me.
The old Oliver would roll his eyes, but he was too passive to glare.
This Oliver is telling me with his eyeballs that I have underestimated who he’s become after four years of being a CEO and he doesn’t need me.
So I switch tactics. “Listen, I truly don’t give two craps if you want to run away.”
“Don’t you?”
“Nope. Not a bit. Don’t care why. Don’t care where you go. Don’t care what you want to do. ButI’ve been there, Oliver. I’ve started over. I know how to navigate the world. I can anticipate problems you wouldn’t even dream could exist. I can help you the same way that—that people helped me when I suddenly didn’t have a dime left to my name. I know you’ll have your money to make it easier, but the world without security and drivers and chefs and executive assistants—that takes some adjusting. I can help you. And I’m probably the only person in the world who can.”
His poker face stops pokering.
“You’re wearing white linen boat pants with a flannel shirt. You’ve picked literally the only kind of pants in the entire world that don’t go with flannel. You are not prepared for the world outside of the C-suite in Manhattan. Let me help you.”
His solid jaw that’s far more defined than it was the last time I saw him works back and forth while his eyes bore into me. The barest hint of dark scruff covers his cheeks and jawbone. I’ve never seen him with a beard. Or more than two days’ worth of growth back when he was with Margot.
The man even shaved on vacation.
I wonder if he’ll grow out his facial hair as part of his disguise.
Or if he’ll even need to.
