Page 87 of The Guru: Shadow

Just like me.

Only he’s violent and manipulating.

She was not stupid, and all of it shouted manipulation. The way he never answered her question. He didn’t even tell her who he really was which infuriated her to a point where her skin was on fire.

And yet, there was a part in her, prickling with exiting apprehension. The part of her that wanted all of it. The part that loved the thrill of a quest. The rush of dopamine. The exhilaration of winning. The thrill of not knowing. The rush of the unpredictable.

It had been too easy to get back to the garage; she was sure he was letting her go, otherwise, the driver, or whoever he was, would have stopped her.

He really meant game on.

She needed the paparazzi gone, so they would not follow her, and then she’d get to her apartment, getPi and her laptop, and most important stuff, and leave to wherever.

She sat in the Audi, it was the one she first thought of to not draw too much attention to her, it was the only one she had seen in the garage that didn’t scream billionaire all over it. Getting the key was the easiest thing. She had seen Deis opening a sideboard drawer in the reflection when they entered as he placed the gun there. At first, she wanted to take it too, or at least thought about it, but then she’d never use it, and the car keys looked much more appealing.

The car was definitely custom-made, too. The moment she started it, it roared through the garage like hellfire, followed by a full, deep gurgling.

Okay, this is a hell of a car. So much about low-key.

She took a ribbon out of her bag, as well as her fake rimmed glasses. She always had the glasses with her, as they gave her some sort of protection. In the bag, her hand touched Carl’s phone, and although she burned from curiosity, she couldn’t look at it now. Deis would see, for sure. So, she could only hope it wasn’t tapped. But she did not want to turn it off, as it might be protected by a code she didn’t know.

Pulling her hair into a bun, it was all about not being recognized, in case the paparazzi didn’t follow the bait.

Gods, what am I doing here? I feel like a badass villain in a movie.

A small shudder ran down her spine. Somehow, it was thrilling, but it was also sickening. She was taking someone else’s property. She got into the net of a man who definitely had issues, grandiose stalker-like issues.

Desperate times, and he’s got enough money.She pep-talked herself as her righteousness tried to get the better of her.

Aiming for the exit, she saw with surprise, that it opened automatically.

Plate recognition.

He knows.

He’s letting me do it.

It’s the game.

He wants the game.

But how do I outsmart a man who has a security team, who has billions of dollars, and all other resources, even to get protected medical files?

While I have nothing?

Well, I have brains. So think.

And with it, she drove.

She was absolutely mindless, taking turns here and there, driving in circles and turning back, always watching the rear mirror to see if she was followed, although she believed the car to have a tracker.

Then it clicked.

That’s it. He has everything, he is a famous billionaire. He doesn’t know how to disappear.

I live in fucking Manhattan, the city where you can just as easily disappear, and I know how to disappear.

She drove past her home address, only to see two hooded figures with cameras still lingering. There was also someone standing at the entrance who looked very bulldog-y. That must’ve been the protection Deis talked about.