Or so this asshole thinks, and he’s out to punish me.
I hit my fist lightly on the wall by the window, and again, just to feel the light sting on my knuckles, just for the illusion that I’m fighting something tangible, not a ghost.
Not a nightmare.
Assuming that the woman the message refers to is Alina Solokov… what the hell happened to her? Who did she lose? Her boyfriend? Her husband? Her children? Her goddamn cat? How do I know what she did after I left? How do I know why I’m being punished for it?
What the hell, right?
Unless…
Unless.
Jesus Fuck. I did sleep with her a few times. We were careful, but what if we weren’t careful enough? What if…?
I stare at the wall without seeing it, the nightmare spreading again its oily ripples around me. Because, if what I’m thinking is true, if it really happened, then the riddle is starting to make sense. It’s appearing from the dark, piece by piece, like one of those magic pictures, and it doesn’t look good.
Not fucking good at all.
A quick search for her name on the internet on my phone brings up dozens of profiles but none that seem to belong to her.
So that’s when I call John back and tell him my theory and my ex-girlfriend’s name, and hope to hell I’m wrong.
When Octavia says she should go, I nod and watch her gather her purse and light coat, my mind a thousand miles away.
And yet I’m aware of her, her scent, her movements, her presence. My eyes, my whole body strains toward her even as I fight it.
“Will you be okay?” she asks, her eyes seeing right through me. “Did something else happen?”
“No,” I offer the half-lie. Because nothing has happened, not yet. It’s just an idea that might or might not prove to be true. “I’ll be fine. You’ve done a lot already.”
For some reason, her slender shoulders tense, and her eyes dim. “Sure thing. I’ll see you on Monday.”
Wait… Monday?
And why the fuck do I care that she looks disappointed, except… I do. I do care.
“Tay, wait.” I get up and walk over to her. I slip my arm around her waist as she turns back around, and tug her against me, loving the way her body fits on mine. “Thank you. For everything.”
Her mouth curves into a faint smile, her eyes lighting up. “I’m just glad you’re feeling better.”
“And for taking care of the kids, and talking to the police, and calling my mother, and… everything.”
Her smile brightens. Her gaze drops to my mouth, and she licks her lips.
So I kiss her. I can’t help myself. Drawing her out of sight of the kids, I taste her mouth, fuck it with my tongue, then back her up against the wall and kiss her until all my air runs out and she’s gasping against my lips.
When I draw back, she looks dazed. “I, uh…”
I fucking love how she’s blanked out, her lips red and swollen, her breaths uneven. “Yeah?”
“You…”
“Me and you. And the kids. Picnic in the garden, tomorrow?”
Her eyes widen. “Really? I mean, that sounds great.”
“Awesome.” And I am really pleased. The thought of a weekend without her is… strange. Uncomfortable.
Nearly unbearable.
Jesus, I don’t know what the hell I’m doing with her. I keep trying to pull back, but I can’t.
I’m sort of trying to date her. Which is ridiculous. Fucking stupid.
But she’s smiling. She looks happy.
Like I feel.
And although this is a familiar dance, one I tried years back with Emma, although it should feel familiar… it doesn’t. It feels brand new. Totally fucking different.
Totally fucking terrifying.
But I’m not a man to back away from a challenge, and I’m already in too deep to make it to shore, so I might as well just keep swimming.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Octavia
Jeez, that kiss… it burned through me like a wildfire, almost brought me to my knees.
It doesn’t matter how hard I fight this attraction. Like a moth to the dancing flame, I’m always drawn to him.
Even when he’s so worried.
Especially when he’s so worried. God help me, but I’ve grown fond of that brooding expression on his ruggedly handsome face, and the need to take away his pain is all-consuming.
Consuming me, my thoughts, my dreams. He stars in those dreams, night after night, his muscular, inked body covering mine, his cock pushing into me, filling me up. His mouth drinking in my moans and cries, his arms bracketing me, keeping me safe as I come again and again, freefalling.
Believing this moment with him will last.
The bus drops me off on the main street, and I climb down, taking a minute to redo my ponytail and straighten my dress.
I don’t think Matt realized I left earlier than usual, or maybe he did and thought it was because I’d stayed the night and wanted to check in on my mom and siblings.
But the truth is that I want to get to Jasper’s Garage before it closes.
Talk to Ross.
Sure, I’d rather be prying out my own teeth with rusty pliers, but if this is his new brand of bullying—making the people around me suffer just to get to me, well…
Well, he’s succeeding. And this can’t go on. His stupid pranks made my school years unbearable, but he never went this far.
Not sure how to make him stop, though.
Better go in the talk to him before I overthink this, right?
…right. Because planning ahead might sound sensible, but not when you’re walking into an impossible situation armed only with anger and hope.
Then you’re better off not thinking at all.
At least that’s the pep talk I give myself as I walk toward the garage, like a fighter going into the cage. A cage containing a lion, at least that’s what it feels like when the garage comes into view and my steps slow.
My heart booms.
You can do this, Octavia. Nothing to it. Just walk up to the guy and tell him to stop or… Or else what? You’ll spank him?
I stop in front of the garage. It’s like déjà vu. How much time has passed since the day Matt stood between me and Jasper, me and Ross? The day he told them I worked for him?
The day he claimed me, that’s how it’s called in my mind, but I shouldn’t think that way.
I really shouldn’t.
Even if I agreed to having a picnic with him and his kids tomorrow in the garden, outside work hours.
Even though I stayed with him last night, in his bed. And we had sex before that in the bathroom. And in the kitchen.
Very much outside work hours and as far over and beyond professional boundaries as you can possibly get without becoming lost in the desert.
Jesus. Stop thinking about that. About Matt.
But it’s easier said than done, especially since what I’m about to do has everything to do with Matt.
Here goes nothing…
Striding into Jasper’s Garage like I own the place isn’t something that happens every day. Many heads turn and whispers start as I cross the car bay, searching for Ross.