Page 305 of The Billionaires

“Am I needed here?” I ask Bob.

“No. That was it. Congratulations, sir. We can hash everything out with the other side without you pres?—”

Not waiting for the rest of it, I sprint out of the courtroom—where I bump into Georgiana, who is talking with Tristan, of all people.

Very odd.

“Have you seen Jane?” I ask her.

“She took a yellow cab,” Tristan answers.

If I had more time, I’d ask why he’s keeping track of Jane’s movements, but as is, I just look at Jane’s mom for confirmation.

She nods.

“Where did she go?” I ask.

“Home.” Georgiana waves her phone. “She texted me. She’s about halfway to the Staten Island Ferry.”

I take out my own phone and text my limo driver to come get me, adding 911 at the end to highlight the highest of urgencies.

“Your best bet is to catch her at the Ferry terminal,” Georgiana continues. “The next one departs at one thirty.”

I check my watch and frown. We can just barely make it if we break every speed limit.

Tires screeching, the limo pulls up to the curb.

I leap inside and promise the driver a six-digit bonus if we get to our destination on time. Maybe that was too much because the limo torpedoes forward, and we fly through the busy Manhattan streets as if filming The Fast and the Furious.

I call Jane.

She doesn’t pick up.

I text her.

Same result.

Before I know it, we screech to a stop at the Whitehall Terminal, and I run out of the limo and up the escalator, skipping stairs as I go.

Fuck. Jane is nowhere in sight, and the time is 1:32, which means the ferry is already loading.

I take my phone out and desperately call Jane one more time.

No result. I attempt a step toward the people filing onto the ferry, but my legs refuse to move. These appendages know perfectly well that a ferry is a type of a boat… which will go over water.

I grit my teeth. This is something I tried not to think about on the way over, but now I have no choice. If I don’t do something, Jane is going to go sailing—and I know that it’s probably irrational, but I’m convinced that if I let her get on the ferry alone, I’ll lose her… the way I lost my parents.

Or maybe it’s not so irrational. When I was seven, I remember hearing about a Staten Island Ferry crash, where many people were killed and even more were injured.

No. I’m going to save Jane even if I have to swim after her.

I force myself to take a step toward the fucking ferryboat. Then another. Then another.

Why am I moving so slowly? The boat will depart soon.

Straining my muscles and my sanity, I remind myself that there are people out there running into burning buildings and flying bullets while my dragon seems to be a docked boat.

The pep talk doesn’t work particularly well. My breathing still speeds up with each step, and by the time I actually get onto the cursed boat, I sound like the bellows at a smithy.

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