The Marriage Contract, Natasha Black [thriller books to read .TXT] 📗

Adam proposed to me in a lavish and highly choreographed and produced “surprise.”

My phone would blow up with calls and texts. They would scream and yell and threaten and cajole. Then, if Hannah was any indication, they would convince themselves that this was some phase, try to control me by depositing money in my account, and then track me down and accuse me of being a freeloader. It might not be exactly like that, but my dad and his brother, Hannah’s dad, were very similar. Hannah figured it out by getting a job. It looked like I was going to have to get one, too.

That was fine. I’d spent too much of my life living off my name and my station. I wanted more from my life than that. I wanted more from myself. I would figure out how to survive, as long as it meant being able to do it my way.

Holding the power button down, I flipped my phone off. I wasn’t going to be able to handle their calls, not without going crazy and saying everything I’d wanted to say for years. It was better to ignore them, drive to Portland, and turn the phone on when I was safely in the hotel to send a text to Hannah.

Cranking up the radio and following the GPS built into the dash, I got back on the road. Singing loudly, and badly, to whatever came on next was cathartic, and I was feeling a lot better by the time I passed the California state line. Stopping in Medford, with just about five hours left to go, I decided that if I was going to be on the road, running from everything I knew to start a new life, the least I could do was cheat on my diet.

My secret obsession was a fast-food pizza chain that I never allowed myself to eat. Now there was no one stopping me, and Medford happened to have one right off the interstate. With a passenger’s seat full of pizza and breadsticks and drinking straight from a two-liter of soda, I got back on the road feeling halfway good about things.

The remaining five hours of the drive took me into darkness, and when I finally pulled into Portland, I was beyond exhausted. The pizza, what remained of it, was cold, and I really had to use a restroom. The hotel was in the heart of town, and by the time I parked and got inside the lobby, I was about to explode. Bypassing checking in, I went straight to the ladies’ room, and when I came out, I felt the emotion and exhaustion of the day wash over me.

All I wanted was to stuff my face into a pillow and sleep forever. The girl at the check-in was nice, but I was beyond the ability to return her cheeriness. She told me my room was on the top floor, and I asked if they had someone who could get my bags. It was how I was used to traveling. This was not, however, the kind of hotel that had staff on hand to cater to my every whim.

I had done that on purpose. If I’d gone to some major hotel, I would be easy to track, and Mom and Dad would be critical of me using their money to live in opulence without obeying them. Hiding away in a generic, corporate hotel kept me hidden and within a budget I could maintain without using their credit card that was still in my purse.

Slugging back to my car, I pulled out the suitcase, the bathroom bag, and laptop bag. Everything else could stay until the morning. Even the pizza.

My room was extremely cold when I got in, and I dropped my bags on the table to shiver. Slinging open the suitcase, I found some comfy pajamas and took them and the bathroom bag into the tiny bathroom. I turned up the shower and stepped in, letting the grime of the road get off me, then got into my pajamas and brushed my teeth.

Collapsing into the bed, I got under the covers and grabbed my phone off the nightstand where I had set it when I got into the room. Hitting the power button, I wasn’t surprised to see a string of missed calls and tons of messages from my parents and then the help. Even the maids got bullied into trying to find out where I was.

I shook my head and pulled up the last text from Hannah. I typed in a message that I was safe and in the bed at the hotel and hit Send, but it didn’t go. The little circle kept spinning. Groaning, I opened up my contacts and tried calling her.

“We’re sorry, your service has been temporarily disconnected,” the message began.

“Dammit,” I muttered and hung up.

It was fine. I would just go get a new phone in the morning. It was past eleven anyway. Hannah was either at work or asleep, and there was no reason to bug her. Setting an alarm and sticking the phone under my pillow, I tried to relax and let sleep take me. But despite how tired and drained I was, despite how exhausted the drive had made me, I had a hard time sleeping.

Flipping over on one side, I pulled a pillow up to my chest and wondered if I’d done the right thing.

3 Matt

Jordan and Hannah were in the back office, going over scheduling with the line cook while I did prep. As much as I liked being involved in the day-to-day aspects like scheduling, I liked having the chance to be in the kitchen by myself to prepare the day’s menu. Our line cooks were both really good, each one having their own additions and styles, but I still ran the kitchen. It was my kitchen.

That said, I was struggling with the menu. I felt stuck, doing the same pieces we had been doing since we were still in