Chapter 8
~ Octavia ~
"I beg your pardon?" I frowned, my voice dropping an octave.
"You heard me," Bella replied, her expression a mirror of my own disdain.
"Okay, I'm going to pretend you didn't just call me a whore," I said, my heart hammering against my ribs.
"But I did. What are you fucking going to do about it?" Her voice was a challenge, a dare to start a scene right there in the lobby.
"You know, Bella, you're an expert at pushing buttons. But today? I'm not playing your game."
I kept my voice eerily calm, stepping past her as the elevator doors chimed open. I left her standing in the lobby, fuming in silence.
When I returned to my desk, Victoria was already waiting with a knowing look. She glanced around at our colleagues, ensuring the hum of keyboards and telephone rings provided enough cover for a private conversation.
"Where have you been?" she whispered, leaning in.
"Don't ask," I said, dropping my purse with a thud.
"Why? You went out for lunch, didn't you?"
"Yeah," I sighed, clicking my computer to life. "I went to lunch with Franklin. He was the one on the phone earlier."
"Oh, so he was the one making you blush?" Victoria teased, her eyes lighting up as the crimson heat returned to my cheeks. "Ooooh! Look at that. The 'Cold Queen' is melting."
"Just get back to work, Vic," I muttered, burying my face in a stack of reports.
Minutes later, I saw Bella stalk into the room. She didn't say a word, but the glare she shot me as she passed our desks was lethal. If looks could kill, I'd be six feet under.
I tried to focus, but between Franklin's contract and Bella's hostility, the office felt like a pressure cooker.
…
The next morning, the pressure followed me home.
As I was heading out the door, my mother appeared like a ghost in the hallway.
"Have you been avoiding your father and me?" she asked without a greeting.
"Why would I avoid you?" I lied, coughing nervously.
"Because we've been calling and texting you since the night at Flemington Tower," she said, studying my face. "Or do you not remember the scene you caused?"
"Mom, look — I'm going to be late for work. We'll talk later."
I tried to step past her to lock the door, but she blocked my path.
"No," she said firmly. "We are having this conversation right here, right now!"
"Fine!" I snapped. "You want to talk? Let's talk."
"Where did you go that night? After you embarrassed your father and I in front of the Flemingtons?"
"I didn't embarrass anyone, Mom. I went home."
"Oh? And what do you call that headline of the leaked photo of you and Franklin back at The Flemington Tower?" she demanded. "I almost passed out when I saw that photo."
"Didn't Franklin's grandfather clear that up?" I reminded her, my head beginning to throb. "He announced the engagement to everyone. You were there."
"Then why aren't you acting like a woman who is about to be a Flemington?"
"Jeez, Mom! What do you want me to do? Hold a press conference? I don't even want this! You and Dad are the ones forcing me into it."
"For crying out loud, Octavia! You are twenty-six. It's time to secure your future. Our company is drowning in debt. If you don't marry him, our fate is doomed. Do you hear me? Doomed!"
"I hear you loud and clear!"
I stood up, exhausted. This conversation was a circle of guilt I couldn't escape.
"I'm going to work."
"I don't think you're taking this seriously," she called out as I reached the door.
I paused, my hand on the knob.
"I took it seriously enough to agree to marry him," I said flatly.
"You did?" Her face transformed instantly, lighting up like a Christmas tree. "Oh, darling! This is wonderful news!" She beamed, clasping her hands together.
"No shit," I mumbled.
"What was that?"
"Nothing. I have to go. Lock up behind you."
I practically ran to my car.
But by the time I reached the office, the news had already traveled. The air was thick with whispers.
Victoria cornered me immediately, shoving a tabloid magazine toward my face.
"Why didn't you tell me the paparazzi caught you two yesterday?" she whispered.
I stared at the photo. It was the moment Franklin had grabbed my hand to shield me, pulling me into the limo. We looked like a frantic, high-profile couple fleeing the limelight.
"Was that what the commotion was about?" I narrowed my eyes.
"Yes! And I thought I was your best friend," Victoria said, adjusting her glasses.
"Vic, it's not a big deal."
It was at the tip of my tongue to almost tell her the truth—that it was all a cold, legal arrangement. But then I remembered the Non-Disclosure Agreement I signed. If I talked, the debt stayed. My family stayed "doomed."
"Trust me, it's just...complicated," I said, turning to my computer. We had a massive project presentation in few days time, and I needed to drown my feelings in data.
Suddenly, our team leader, Miranda Lawson, clapped her hands for attention.
"Okay, listen up, people!"
The office went silent.
"Remember the project you're all preparing for the Board of Directors?" she asked. "The company we've officially partnered with is the Flemington Group. And their CEO, Franklin Flemington, will be joining us personally in two days to evaluate your presentations. I expect perfection. Good luck."
I felt the air leave my lungs.
The Flemington Group? Of all the firms in New York, we had to partner with his? Why hadn't he mentioned this during our "romantic" lunch?
"Miss Herman?" Miranda's voice chirped, snapping me out of my trance.
I looked up, dazed. "Yes?"
"A word in my office, please."
She turned and walked away.
Victoria leaned over, her voice trembling with excitement. "Are you in trouble?"
"I don't even know," I whispered, my heart racing.
I stood up and smoothed my blazer, heading toward Miranda's office with a sinking feeling that my professional and personal lives were about to collide in a spectacular wreck.