I wasn't always such a worrywart when it came to food and calories, but going to an all-girls school where you're picked on mercilessly about every little thing can make you really self-conscious even if you had no prior issues beforehand. That place was full of mean girls. And so, when I started eating my feelings after my mom died and put on a few extra pounds, I was called everything in the book from fat cow to lard ass.
Eventually, I joined the track team at school where I learned that running was something I actually loved to do and it kept any extra weight off. Plus, it allowed me to clear my mind. Running is cathartic for me, because my brain shuts down all the extra bad thoughts and just focuses on the task at hand.
Some might say I'm running from my past.
Those people would probably be right.
Just as I reach my apartment building, my Apple Watch vibrates on my wrist. When I look down, I see it’s a text from my father.
Charity gala dinner Friday night, 7 p.m. Don’t be late.
Ever since I’ve been back in New York, I’ve had to take on the role of a socialite to please my father. I’ve been to so many galas in the past six months that they all blur together into one giant, boring party.
Grimacing, I text my father that I’ll be there.
And as I make my way up to my apartment, I think back to what Sophie said about my life. She thinks I’mlucky.
She has no idea I’d trade everything to just be normal for once.
CHAPTER 3
DAMON
I VENTURE INTO the sordid underground of New York City using old, broken down service tunnels and a map, which has been etched in my brain, as my guide.
It’s tedious to get to my destination, but the information I receive once I get there will be worth it.
It always is.
As I walk, I find myself still reeling from seeing Victoria up close and personal earlier today. I’ve only ever seen her from afar or in photographs while trolling her social media accounts. But being in the same room as her was like a punch straight to the gut. She’s gorgeous, just like I remember, but all grown up.
When our eyes locked, I thought for a moment that she recognized me. But the look on her face showed no recognition whatsoever. I’m sure she’s forgotten all aboutArloby now anyway, and that thought only furthers my anger towards her.
Turning one last time, I come to a steel door that looks welded shut to the common onlooker, but I know better.
Knocking five times, three times in quick succession and then pausing a beat between the last two, I wait patiently while the hidden security camera scans my face.
The special knock really isn’t necessary considering my movements have been tracked since the moment I entered the first tunnel. There are cameras everywhere, even in these unbeaten paths under the ground.
The door hisses as the hydraulic system kicks in and then swings open. As soon as I enter the dark room, the door behind me slams shut, sealing me inside.
Tiny, red dots lead the way through total darkness until I reach the black curtain at the end of the hallway.
Pushing through the heavy material, I have to close my eyes to adjust to the bright, overhead fluorescent lights in the spacious underground dwelling that reminds me of a cave a super villain would reside in.
Armed guards are at the ready, throwing me against the wall and searching me for weapons I knew better than to bring.
“All clear,” one guy says. His large muscles are so compacted on top of each other that he has no neck.
“Hello, my good friend,” says a deep voice with a thick Syrian accent from the right of me. I turn to see Baz Fayed sauntering towards me. Tall and thin with dark skin and brown eyes, Baz exudes a confidence and commanding power that most men could only dream about.
With a flick of his hand, he shoos the armed guards away. “Sorry about all of the precautions. I’m sure you understand.”
“Of course,” I answer.
He comes to me then, grasping my hand and pulling me in for a one-armed hug before clapping me hard on the back. “It’s always good to see my oldest friend,” he remarks with a grin, his white teeth shining bright.
I first met Baz Fayed when both of us were kids living on the streets of New York City. He had fled Syria years before, losing his mother and father along the way.
