Page 57 of Golden Burn

That piece of shit intercepted my purchase, probably bribed his way into putting the tracker inside of it. I wouldn’t even be surprised if the man I ordered from for ten years didn’t suffer a stroke, but a blunt force object to the brain.

“Let him go,” I order Ford, then turn to Dom. “Contact the distributors. Tell them to dump the latest batch in the Hudson.”

“That’s not a wise business choice, Odin.” Dom’s clipped tone cuts through the whirlwind of my furious mind.

“I don’t give a shit aboutbusiness. He has been stalking us and getting away with it. He needs to remember who the fuck has the money, the buildings, and the fucking power. Me.”

I walk away before I say anything else and almost collide with Martise as I exit the main lodge. “I’m coming with you,” she demands.

“No fucking way.”

“It wasn’t a question. You need someone to watch Ms. Lewis while you focus on your endeavor for world domination.” There’s sarcasm in her tone. She’s pissed at Omandi, and she’s pissed at me, too.

I want to say no. There’s already too many people for me to watch, to protect. But if I want Ford and Dom focused, then I need them to be doing what they do best, not worrying about Etta’s wellbeing.

“We leave in twenty minutes.”

Martise nods and jogs inside.

Tonight was a mistake. I should never have let my cock take the lead and indulge my desires with my future wife by contract, not choice.

The temptation to fuck Etta must end.

Otherwise, it might be her life.

21

Etta

‘I wish that I hated you’ - Ariana Grande

It’s the middle of the night by the time we make it onto the tarmac, a slightly bigger jet than the one we’ve previously flown in waits for us with the crew positioned at the bottom of the stairs. Wind sweeps across my body, smelling of petrol and burnt rubber. I stick to my position at the back of the group. Ford and Odin take the lead, Dom and Martise stride next to me. I’m glad Martise is coming. Her presence soothes me in a way that I need at the moment. Odin’s mood reeks of fury and betrayal. I keep my distance so that he can cool down.

“Mr. Bolt and guests, thank you for flying with us,” the male flight attendant says, shaking Ford and Odin’s hand.

The inside of the plane is the same as all the others, but the aura is off. The last time I spent many hours in the air, I painted my face with makeup, plus Ford’s, and ultimately enjoyed myself—especially my standoff with Odin.

I don’t think that’s going to occur here.

Dom finds a seat, while Ford searches the plane, checking the cockpit, back bathroom and the hostess area. He returns, satisfied, though not completely relaxed. Martise takes a seat behind me and pulls out a neck pillow, an eye mask and a kindle from her giant handbag.

Odin comes up behind me and places a hand on my lower back. I jolt, resisting the urge to fall against it. “Sit next to me,” he says low into my ear. He isn’t asking, nor offering. He’s demanding.

I don’t disobey.

I put my seat belt on and curl my legs up into my chest. Odin sits next to me, controlled and large. He leaves his seat belt off and takes the glass of whiskey offered to him by the attendant. He passes me a bottle of water. I thank him and try not to remember the way we almost fucked before our tiny heated bubble was popped by a simple white letter.

The air is oppressive. Hard to digest. Like a person has pulled the pin on a grenade and held it up for all of us to see. It remains that way as the cabin crew gets ready for take-off.

None of us speak. Odin is frozen to his seat, having not even touched his drink, while Dom works frantically on his laptop and Ford watches everything happen with an intense gaze.

The plane takes off, jerky and hurried. It sends a bolt of worry through my chest. My mind is assaulted by imagined scenarios of our transport being shot down and all of us crashing into the ocean. Looking at the map of the flight path, it appears we’ll be flying over land for eight hours. Wonderful. Maybe if I’m still alive when the place descends and bursts apart into jagged pieces of metal, the animals will get a nice meal out of my flesh.

I’m sweating now, picking at my nails, stripping the flesh away via my teeth. Turbulence racks the plane and my hands fly down to grip ontothe armrest. Odin shifts, moving his hand within reach. Our skin isn’t touching, but it might as well be.

I’m feeling raw. Exposed.

Ignoring the touch of his eye on my cheek, I stand and make my way to the bathroom. Inside, dizziness rushes up from my head to my toes. The last time I was this rattled, I had just been taken. Odin had shot my father and given me his back for so many hours. Dom and Ford had seemed closed off and scary. I had been a fish trapped in a bowl without any water.

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