Craving Oblivion (New York Billionaires Book 3)

11| Run

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Run

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Chapter 11: Run (Zarah's POV)

I let out a soft groan, tugging the pencil out of my hair and dropping it on my desk in frustration. I'd been sitting in my office at The Fortress for more than two hours now and all I could think about was Logan and his word of advice, if I could even call it that. He certainly did. But all he successfully did was send my thoughts for a run. 

I wasn't going to tell Dad or Nick about what happened because I didn't think anything of it... until Logan came along. 

What if someone sent that asshole after me last night? What if it really wasn't a coincidence? 

Shaking my head clear of thoughts as I clicked my tongue, I put the pencil back in the cup that held my stationary before shutting off the desktop and standing up, grabbing my things and locking my office on my way out, lingering on the ground floor just to observe the people around and ensure the gallery was running well. 

I watched two high school girls in amusement as they took pictures, turning their backs to the camera, and showing off their outfits and paintings. Slowing down to a stop at a bench, I took a seat and sighed softly, just watching the crowd move as time passed. 

After a while, when the exhaustion started to hit me, I stood up to leave, my movements growing rigid as I felt a chill crawl up the back of my neck, making my bones stiff down to my core. I hesitantly pivoted, searching the room for a familiar face or for anyone who had their eyes on me, but I found everyone merely looking at the paintings and taking pictures, minding their own business, living their own lives. 

Logan fucking Markov... you're getting in my head. 

Ignoring the chill I felt over my shoulder and the heat of someone's gaze, I took my purse and headed towards the exit, glancing at the clock that read eleven o'clock on my way out. "Dylan, my keys, please," I smiled, stopping in front of him and outstretching a hand. 

He dropped them in my palm with his usual warm smile and bid me goodnight. 

Tentatively, I approached my car and got in, immediately locking the doors and hitting the ignition, speeding out of the parking lot, and heading straight to my apartment building, letting out a breath of relief once I hit the main road. I had no idea what pushed me to take Logan's warnings so seriously every single time. 

Maybe it has something to do with the first time I actually met him. 

The first time I met Logan wasn't at my father's poker party. It was on a drunk night in Romania while I was on a girls' trip with Alessia and some of her friends. Even then, I had seen him before and still failed to recognize him. 

The very first time I merely saw Logan was when he moved to New York as a kid. I was around nine years old, Logan would have been fourteen. I vividly remembered the introduction his father gave to him without revealing how his son had shown up out of nowhere for some mysterious reason. I still had no idea what brought Logan to New York in the first place. Without any reason to speak to him, I never did, and the day he got out of high school, he was on a flight back to Romania.