The Beast

Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen
Not Yours

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HANNAH 

   Looking in the mirror, I squeezed the energy drink in my hand before bringing it to my mouth. I easily chugged the rest of its contents, only to instantly regret it. My hand already twitched to crack open another one.

   When I clenched the can again, I shakily murmured, "I can do this."

   I can do this. I can do this.

   What's the worst that can happen?

   He doesn't care about you anymore, Hannah. You shouldn't stress.

   The last thought was something that I've repeated to myself since stepping off Lev's private jet exactly two weeks ago. Since Lev dismissed you the second the doors opened.

   Thinking back on it now, I had been stupidly hurt when Lev ordered Danila and Viktor—the closest thing to his buddy, I quickly learned—to take me home, not sparing me a glance before he jumped into a car.

   But that hurt quickly disappeared to relief because—Lev had gotten over the obsession. No more life at risk. No more people following my every step. No more feeling like my life was being flipped upside down by the youngest son of the leader of a freaking mafia.

   At least, I thought that was the case. Until I spotted Danila following me in a car as I biked to work each morning. The dots connected then; maybe the sex sedated him, but he wasn't done with me. And yet, I hadn't seen him since the plane landed at the JFK.

For the first few days, Danila tried to convince me to get in the car, telling me that he would take me to work. Not wanting to owe Lev anything, I declined his offer each time—until the weekend came. It had begun to snow, and I couldn't drop off food orders on my bike, so desperate times called for desperate measures; I got in the car.

Granted, I only accept rides now if the weather calls for it.

   It wasn't until a few days ago I reluctantly texted him, stating an urgency to meet.

   One thing I didn't miss about New York City? Lindy breathing down my neck. And that's all she's been doing since I came back from my "vacation", as she liked to call it.

   Actually, Lindy... the client that you're so desperate to steal from me? Yeah, he's a murderer, kidnapper and knife enthusiast. Oh, and I'm pretty sure if I end up on the evening news, it's because he killed me.

   But of course, I couldn't say any of that. Mostly because I'm sure Lev found a way to bug me. There's no other reason to explain why he was so okay with me working back to normal. He's a secret control freak.

   Nico, on the other hand, couldn't stop asking about my trip when I trickled back into our apartment that night. I tried to answer as many questions as I could without spoiling how I actually ended up on Lev's plane, mostly because I felt guilty. He stated grimly that he tried to keep in touch with me, but I never answered. So, I blurted that my phone broke when we first landed, and Lev had only gotten it fixed by the end of the trip. But it killed me to lie.

   "Fuck it."

   I strode out of my room and rushed to the kitchen before pulling the fridge open. "Tomorrow. Tomorrow, I will stop," I mumbled to myself, snatching another energy drink from the shelves. At least this one was smaller.

   By stop, I meant I would max myself out at two drinks.

   Technically, you can't have more than four hundred milligrams of caffeine a day. Which I don't do.