Craving Oblivion (New York Billionaires Book 3)

26| Obsession

I changed the chapter name

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Obsession

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Chapter 26: Obsession (Logan's POV)

The few days leading up to the weekend were a constant back and forth between Zarah's apartment, the wedding planner's office, and even Zarah's galleries since the woman refused to take any more days off. It didn't seem to matter to her that working the entire day plus packing up her apartment was exhausting and wearing her out. Luckily, she thought ahead and skipped both work and packing up the apartment to pack for the trip instead a few days in advance. 

Christian's wedding happened to be at the perfect time. It was buying us the extra time we needed to prepare for our wedding and to set our story straight and it gave our wedding planner a sufficient deadline as well. 

The only problem? Zarah constantly seemed to butt heads with that goddamn wedding planner. They couldn't agree on anything, whether it be flowers or colors or food. I was in no place to tell Zarah to compromise, especially after being the one to tell her that she should incorporate things she wanted in her wedding. Zarah being who she was, refused to back down and eventually got everything she wanted and so the wedding would go exactly how she wanted it to. 

The flight was extremely long and to get there in time, we decided to leave at midnight. 

Which is now. 

Zarah had packed herself a suitcase for the trip and brought it to my apartment with her and when I went to her room to say we should leave, I found it empty. 

"I'm down here!" she called out. I took a few steps back and rested my hands on the railing, watching her appear. "My suitcase is still up there, can you bring it? Please?" She flashed me a grin. 

Sighing faintly, I entered her room and took the suitcase, carrying it downstairs with mine, stopping at the kitchen where she sipped on her cup of tea. "We're supposed to leave, Ms. Romano," I sighed, folding my arms across my chest as I watched her. 

"It's barely eleven, we'll get to your jet in time," she replied, waving a dismissive hand as she took a small sip, flinching at how hot it must have been. She frowned and then looked at me. "How long is the flight?" 

"More than twenty hours." 

She blinked, staring at me, and then set her mug down. "Are you expecting us to travel for twenty-plus hours, deal with a seven-hour time difference, attend a wedding and a reception, and then fly right back the next morning? All without, oh, I don't know, getting drained, jet-lagged and exhausted?" 

"You'll have plenty of time to rest up with nothing else to do on that very twenty-plus hour flight. We'll reach Sochi at around three in the morning and we'll have until the next afternoon to rest up as well. The wedding and reception will only last a few hours and the next morning, we'll be back." 

"Back to chaos, Mr. Markov. Are you forgetting that once we're back we need to prepare for our wedding? We're about to get married, I think we're taking that far too lightly. Who attends someone else's wedding days before their own?"