Submitted To My Step-Brother

Chapter10

Ara and Lucielle were on a determined course to vacate Boston that very night.

Clutching her Burberry barrel bag firmly against her chest, Ara found herself submerged in a sea of thoughts as they were driven towards a private airport by Lucielle's security guard.

Seated adjacent to her, Lucielle mirrored her posture, her luggage held close, while she engaged in a conversation with the pilot over her phone.

Ara had been caught off guard when her friend had promptly packed her own bag, affirming her decision to accompany Ara in her daring escape. "We're in this together," Lucielle had announced resolutely, stashing considerable amounts of cash, a passport, and a canister of pepper spray into a side pocket of her bag. Ara hadn't been aware that Lucielle had reserves of money secreted away in her house, but in retrospect, she should have anticipated that her friend was well-prepared for any contingency.

Ara hadn't found the opportunity to elaborate on the situation to Lucielle, and had been somewhat reluctant to delve into it, but Lucielle hadn't been perturbed by the scant details Ara had provided regarding her reasons to abscond. Her best friend was steadfast in her decision to stand by Ara, irrespective of where her journey led her.

"Do you think we'll manage to slip away undetected?" Lucielle posed the question, her father being a veteran member of the syndicate, having served as Douglas's trusted deputy before stepping aside when John was prepared to seize control.

"I'm not entirely sure. It was strategic to make our escape while the party was still in progress. It will be a while before anyone notices our absence," Ara replied. As she spoke, John's piercing gaze flashed in her mind, prompting her to instinctively scan her surroundings, almost expecting him to materialize out of thin air. It was a ludicrous idea, but Ara couldn't shake the distinct feeling that her attempted escape had only served to provoke his ire.

It was an absurd thought, given that she had no way of knowing how he would even discover that she had taken off. He was probably ensnared in a passionate encounter with Jenny, in a similar manner to how Ara had found herself entangled with him the previous night. She tightened her grip on her bag, an irrational surge of anger threatening to cause her to rip the costly fabric under her fingers.

Despite having successfully slipped away unnoticed, why did she harbor the unnerving feeling that fleeing from him was a misstep? It was undoubtedly a prudent decision to distance herself from him and never look back. He was, after all, her stepbrother, and there was a strong possibility that he was a bona fide psychopath. Moreover, he was one of the most formidable men in Boston, at the helm of an illicit operation involving the trafficking of drugs, among various other criminal activities.

Undeniably, leaving was the most sensible course of action.

Then why was there a profound sense of unease gnawing at her?

"We've reached our destination, miss," the driver announced, bringing the car to a halt and courteously escorting them from the lavish vehicle towards the private jet awaiting them. It was a pristine night, with a fresh layer of snow adorning the ground. Ara wrapped her forest green cashmere coat tighter around her body, her bare legs shivering slightly in the biting cold.

The steward welcomed them aboard, taking charge of their luggage and stowing it away in the designated area as the two women settled into the plush seats onboard the plane.

The jet boasted a spacious interior, complete with a bedroom conveniently located in the rear for those long-haul journeys. The steward reappeared, presenting them with flutes filled with champagne and a congenial smile as they secured their seatbelts, bracing themselves for takeoff.

The pilot's voice reverberated throughout the cabin as the plane began its ascent. "Good evening, ladies, and welcome aboard your non-stop flight to London. Our estimated arrival time is approximately five hours from now, so please feel free to relax or get some rest in the back if needed."

Ara doubted her ability to catch any sleep, her nerves strung tight from the whirlwind events of the past twenty-four hours. Nonetheless, she leaned back in her seat, taking a lengthy sip from her champagne glass.

A few minutes later, they were soaring through the air, London-bound. She exhaled a sigh of relief, even as a knot of apprehension continued to twist in her stomach.

Lucielle leaned over, their champagne glasses clinking together lightly. "Cheer up, Ara! We're on the verge of embarking on the journey of a lifetime." Ara responded with a slight smile, her previously tense shoulders easing a bit.

The sound of a door opening followed by the heavy footsteps echoing behind them disrupted their moment. Lucielle turned towards the source of the sound, her smile abruptly disappearing.

"What is..." Ara's voice faded as John made himself comfortable in the seat across from her, casually unbuttoning his suit jacket and fixing her with a wolfish smile. He reached over, deftly plucking the champagne flute from her grasp, gulping down the remaining liquid before placing the empty glass gently in a cup holder.

Floyd occupied the seat opposite Lucielle, flashing her a playful wink that left her friend visibly flustered.

"How did you find out?" Ara's voice was barely above a whisper, echoing the terror she felt. Her hands clung to the armrests as if readying herself to bolt. But where could she possibly escape to? They were already hundreds of feet high in the air.

John's playful smile evaporated instantly, his eyes hardening into a steely gaze.

"How did I discern what, my dear? That you endeavored to extricate yourself from me?"

"I wasn't trying to depart—"

"Halt," he interjected sharply, leaning over until his face was just inches away from hers. "Desist with your incessant falsehoods. What did I forewarn you would transpire the next time you dared to deceive me?" She audibly swallowed when he wrapped his hand around her hair, tugging it gently backward until she had no option but to meet his gaze.

His fury was palpable, his demeanor suggesting he was on the verge of inflicting harm. Lucielle gasped beside her, hastily unbuckling her seatbelt and lunging towards John. "Release her!"

Floyd yanked her back, his hands on her waist as he positioned her on his knee. "Oh!" Lucielle attempted to elbow him in the stomach, spinning to swipe at his face.