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Once we’re all seated and the pilot announces we’re ready for take-off, I ask Dad, “Would it be too soon to propose to Abigail?”
A wide smile spreads over his face. “It’s never too soon. I knew your mother two weeks when we were married.”
Right.
“But it all depends on whether Abigail is ready to take that step. You need to talk to her about the matter and see how she feels.”
“You’re right,” I mutter. “But then I won’t be able to surprise her.”
“You really love Abigail?”
Without hesitation, I nod. “More than life itself.”
“Well, if she loves you, then go for it. You can be engaged for a while before you get married if she needs time to get used to it.”
I let out a chuckle. “If Abigail says yes, I’m not going to wait a year or even months.”
Dad shakes his head at me, a huge smile on his face. “I’m going to get some shut-eye. You should do the same.”
Abbie
This is insane. I can’t believe my father is going to such lengths.
You knew he would lose his shit if he found out about you and Nikolai.
Instructed to freshen up for dinner, I’ve been locked up in my bedroom for the past hour.
I’m freaking livid and haven’t been able to sit down for a second. I’m too wired and keep stalking up and down.
It will take Nikolai an entire day, if not longer, before he finds out I’m no longer at St. Monarch’s. I try to calculate how long it will take for him to get to Congo, have the meeting, and come back.
That’s like… twenty-eight hours? Thirty?
Shit.
Aurora should’ve noticed by now that I’m not at St. Monarch’s. She’ll try to call, and if she can’t reach me, she’ll hopefully ask Director Koslov about me.
Crap, does Director Koslov even know I’m dating his godson? Would he perhaps search for me?
Inna might notice as well. If Nikolai can’t reach me once he’s back, he’ll check with them.
Thirty hours. A lot can happen before he realizes I’m not at St. Monarch’s.
It’s up to me to get out of here.
I glance around my room, and my eyes lock on the widow.
You’ve snuck out plenty of times. You can do this.
I rush to the doors leading to the balcony but find the key has been removed. Just as I search for something to break the glass with, the door to my room opens, and my mother comes in.
She holds a margarita glass in her hand, and I notice her eyes are glassy. “Your father is calling for you.”
She sees that I’m still wearing a pair of jeans and a blouse, then frowns. “You should’ve changed. He’ll be upset.”
“I don’t care.” I shake my head hard. “You know this is insane. You can’t keep me here.”
She lets out a tired sigh as if her soul has been sucked dry of all its energy. “Don’t make a scene. He’s doing what’s best for you.”
