Phantom Rider: The Aftermath | Book 1

Another You

Mila's POV

"Milady," the stranger said, extending his hand. "Let's make this evening better, shall we?"

I took his hand, and he helped me to my feet. "It's sad that a good-looking woman like you always gets drawn to assholes."

He brushed a lock of my hair behind my ear. I pulled away slightly. "Don't touch me without my permission. I don't like that."

"I apologize!" He stepped back.

"So, where do I get the drugs? Do you call someone, or...?" I asked, growing impatient.

He laughed. "Yes, I'll call someone. Just give me a second." He pulled out his phone and walked a few steps away. He reminded me of him. Dressed in a long black wool coat, with blonde hair slicked back with gel, sharp facial features, and deep eyes, he looked expensive. Great, now I'll see Bill in everyone. Any resemblance to him spirals me back into my pain.

He returned, and in the neon lights of the street, I noticed he had the same blue eyes as mine. Curiosity piqued, I asked, "What's someone dressed like you doing alone on the street at this hour?"

"I like my alone time. There's nothing more to it," he said with a smile that revealed perfect white teeth. "Sometimes, I go for walks to clear my head. By the way, my name is Dylan."

"I'm Anastasia. Nice to meet you!" I used my new passport name.

"So, I have the same question for you. Why is a woman of your caliber chasing gangsters and crying?" He looked down at me with a smirk.

"My caliber?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, you're clearly not from the streets. Even in those dirty clothes, you look more like one of us," he said, glancing at his buzzing phone.

"One of us? Who would that be?" I asked, suspicion lacing my voice.

"The people who live uptown, drink champagne in their penthouse apartments, and drive limousines," he said, flashing a broad smile as a large white limousine pulled up beside us.

"Shall we?" He opened the door for me.

When I decided to disappear from Bill, I imagined rotting in some basement until I died, not riding in a limousine with a complete stranger. Yet, this form of self-destruction seemed more my style. I didn't think twice. Besides, what else did I have to lose? I had experienced it all and had nothing left to protect or be wary of.

"First, we'll get you cleaned up and dressed properly." Dylan poured champagne into a glass and handed it to me.

Why do all men want to dress me up like I'm some kind of doll? Then I looked down at my outfit and realized it made sense. I looked like I'd just crawled out of a trash can.

"I never said I would spend time with you. All I want is to buy drugs and then go my own way," I declared.

"And I never said I wanted to spend time with you either," he retorted, leaving me momentarily speechless.

"So what's this about?" I suddenly wanted to get out of the car.

"Just a kind gesture for someone who's had a rough night. Don't read too much into it." He handed me the glass of champagne.

I was thirsty and drank it all in one go. He smirked. "How about some manners?"

I rolled my eyes. He couldn't be serious now. Another self-centered jerk trying to act superior. Are all men really the same? "Fine," he said, rolling his eyes back at me. He drank his glass in the same manner.

"So, Dylan, where are we going?" I asked, trying to get comfortable.

"Uptown, where you belong," he sneered.