~ 4 ~
PEYTON
As it turns out, dating a billionaire is a strange, wild ride. Even stranger though, is how quickly I was willing to overlook all the red flags. How shockingly fast I was able to set aside my usual, personal reservations — in exchange for all the glitz and glamor — when some of the most nefarious shit kept happening right under my nose.
In retrospect, there were a lot of warning signs that my future husband might be shadier than a gas station bathroom at midnight. There were all the beautiful properties he owned, that for some reason I was never allowed to step inside. His many ‘associates,’ who carried themselves more like soldiers than business partners. I dressed up for charity galas in ten-thousand-dollar dresses, only to find no real beneficiaries present. And of all the people that were around, very few of them could look me straight in the eye.
There were lifelong drivers who couldn’t meet Donovan’s gaze, as well. Board members from his many companies that traveled with criminal defense attorneys. But the biggest clue — as well as the one I regret missing the most —should’ve been the way he treated everyone else but me.
At first I didn’t see these things; still newly in love, and starstruck by the whole ordeal. I was buying into my own bullshit, really. Turning a blind eye to the men who went pale in his presence, or the random, terrified screams I heard one night, downstairs, while on a weekend getaway where we should’ve been alone.
Throughout our relationship Donovan was cold, calculating, and a stickler for control. Yet still I stayed, because very often he wrapped that control in soft, fuzzy affection. He was sweet and kind when he wanted to be, and although he sometimes raised his voice, it was never directed at me. And he never struck me — not even once — although I got the distinct impression he’d done far worse to others around him.
“Everyone betrays you eventually,” he once told me, in a particular moment of weakness. When I asked if that statement applied to our own relationship as well, Donovan merely smiled sweetly, and kissed me goodnight.
He never answered the question, though, as troubling as it was.
And really, that was all the answer I needed.
It wasn’t until after we’d gotten engaged, however, that I really began seeing the darker side of Donovan Prescott. Week by week the facade fell away, until any pretense of civility in my presence had been thrown right out the window. I consulted my mother, hoping for some clarity, but instead she’d made every excuse in the book for him. What began as a cute bond between my fiancé and his mother-in-law-to-be developed into an unhealthy kinship that, very often, pitted the two of them against me, no matter what the disagreement.
“Get ready. We’re going to land.”
The young pilot’s voice crackled over the headset, shaking all other thoughts from my mind. The Beechcraft was intentionally small; a sleek-looking four-seater, but the ride had been quick and surprisingly smooth. I sat beside my benefactor the whole time, watching him closely, making sure he hadn’t pulled out a phone or made any radio calls that sounded suspicious. Thankfully, he hadn’t. The kid looked properly terrified throughout the ordeal, which is exactly why I’d chosen him.
I’d also crossed his palm with enough money to make risking Donovan Prescott’s wrath worth his while.
Selecting our destination was something I’d done well in advance; a small, private airstrip, deep in Vermont. Burlington was only thirty minutes away, if I needed anything I hadn’t already arranged for. Thirty minutes in the other direction, I hoped to lose myself quickly in the endless maze of pristine lakes, rolling hills, and towering pines.
Our landing was quick, and greasy smooth. The kid killed the engine, we hopped out, and as the propeller came to a rest, I took in my first real breath of freedom in more than a year.
“You have my bag?”
He popped a panel on the side of the aircraft, and pulled it out. I unzipped it quickly, and breathed a long sigh of relief for everything that was still inside.
“Turn around now. And no peeking.”
The young pilot flushed red as I began wriggling out of my ruined dress, and into some real clothes. Shit, just how young was he? Eighteen? Nineteen? Old enough to even fly? I sized him up again, baby face and all, as I tugged my jeans up and pulled on a shirt. I had no idea who he was, really. The two of us had only met once before.
“Alright, you can look now. I’m decent.”
He turned back, and I shoved what was left of my dress into his hands.
“You’ll want to get rid of that,” I advised. “As quickly as possible.”
He nodded nervously, looking left and right.
“You’re gonna want to keep this, though.”
I handed him an envelope the size of a brick; the other half of his money. He handed me back a set of keys. The car was parked just over his shoulder; old, nondescript, but reliable-looking. Exactly what I’d asked for.
“Now get back in this thing and take off,” I ordered, rapping my knuckles against the plane. “Fly away, and do something good with that money. And remember, no matter who asks? You and I were never here.”
The leaden gray sky dropped even lower, hanging over us like a blanket as I stared back at him questioningly.
“Never where?” the kid smiled.
On impulse, I grabbed both sides of his face and kissed him square on the lips. It was a sweet kiss. A strong kiss. The kind of kiss a bride gives to her groom — or in this case, her savior — who’d just imbued her with the promise of a bright, limitless future.
The kid turned such a deep shade of red, he was almost purple.
“Good answer,” I called back, as I stormed past him.
