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I grabbed the arm of the next woman who walked by. “Help me. Please.” My voice was desperate and unrecognizable.
She yanked her arm from my grasp and continued walking.
Everything felt fragile, as if the ground under my feet could crumble and let the earth swallow me whole.
I clenched my teeth and inhaled a breath, then rushed in front of another person, this time a man. “Do you have a phone I can use?”
He shook his head and kept walking. At least he didn’t completely ignore me. That was progress.
My heart pounded as I glanced back at the doors, waiting for Chandler to appear.
A man in a suit stepped in front of me. He was older. Distinguished. And his voice was kind. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” I said, panting my words. “I just… need… to get out of here.”
He must have sensed my anxiety because he stepped to the curb and lifted one arm in the air. A few seconds later, a bright yellow car pulled up and stopped beside us.
The kind stranger opened the back door. “Good luck,” he said, then closed it after I climbed inside.
I watched through the back window as the car eased back into traffic, making the man and Chandler’s building disappear in the distance.
“To the closest airport, please,” I told the driver.
Oh my god.
I did it.
I got out.
We swerved in and out of lanes and zipped past tall buildings. Some streets were quieter than others. Some seemed residential while others were vibrant with life. Each turn brought me closer to my freedom than the last.
Anticipation thrummed through me, and my heart hammered against my ribcage. This was what I wanted. I’d been imagining this moment since I’d found out I was a prisoner. So, why was there this nagging ache in the pit of my stomach?
Because escaping New York also meant escaping Chandler.
Even though—on a smaller scale—a darkness that had been buried within me mirrored the one inside him, and his touch made me feel sexier and more alive than anything else ever had, I was a captive. And he was the captor.
This wasn’t Fate’s idea of a blind date.
Unless it was.
I rubbed my temples, forcing the ridiculous idea from my mind.
“Do you have a phone I can use?” I asked the driver.
He eyed me through the rearview mirror. “Sorry. Private line. I don’t let customers make calls.”
“It’s important.”
He laughed and shook his head. “Yeah.” He smacked his gum. “It’s always important.”
I didn’t say anything else the rest of the ride. Aside from the man who called this cab, people here were very detached. No wonder Chandler chose this place to make his home. I never imagined I would long for the calm simplicity of Ayelswick the way I did now.
I was so lost in my thoughts, I hadn’t noticed we were at the airport, pulled up next to the curb in a long line of cars just like this one.
The driver looked back at me. “Cash or card?”
I blinked. “Excuse me?”
