Chapter 1
~ Octavia ~
I woke up to sunlight streaming through unfamiliar curtains, and my head throbbed like soone was hamring nails into my skull. I tried to sit up and realized I was utterly naked.
Oh God. No, no, no.
I sat up quickly, clutching the sheet to my chest, and looked around the hotel room. This wasn’t a dream. I had actually had sex after eight years of celibacy. I, Octavia Herman, the girl who would never kiss on a first date, had just had a one-night stand.
I wanted to crawl into a hole and die.
The bathroom door suddenly swung open, and I froze. A man walked out, water droplets still clinging to his dark hair, buttoning up a white shirt that did absolutely nothing to hide the perfect abs underneath. He moved with confidence and honestly, he was gorgeous... with sharp cheekbones, a jaw that could cut glass, and eyes that probably made won fall at his feet daily.
He looked like he had walked straight off a magazine cover.
My heart throbbed in my chest as he reached for his phone on the coffee table. I squeezed my eyes shut imdiately, pretending to be asleep. Maybe if I stayed still enough, he’d just leave and I could pretend this never happened.
"Bella," his voice was smooth but strained as he answered the call.
I kept my eyes closed, but I could hear everything. The way his voice softened when he said her na. The desperation was obvious.
"I know I ssed up... No, just listen to for a second..."
Oh God. Girlfriend? Wife? My stomach churned with a sickening guilt. What had I done?
"I love you so much and I can’t let you go, Bella," he said, and I heard him run a hand through his hair in frustration.
Perfect. Just perfect. I’d been used as a rebound, a distraction from his relationship drama. I felt dirty, cheap, like sothing to be discarded after use.
I risked opening my eyes just a crack to get a better look at him. Now that my head was clearing, there was sothing familiar about his face. Had I seen him before? On a billboard maybe? Or a magazine?
The call ended abruptly, and I heard him sigh. Then ca the sound of rustling, and sothing landed on the bed near my feet with a soft thud.
I opened my eyes fully just in ti to see him grab his jacket and keys, not even bothering to look at .
"Wait..." I started, but he was already at the door.
It clicked shut behind him, and I was left staring at the empty space where he’d been standing. Slowly, I looked down at what he’d thrown on the bed.
Cash. A stack of dollar bills.
My mouth fell open. "Did he just..."
Did he think I was a prostitute? Heat flooded my face with anger and humiliation. I wanted to scream, to throw sothing, to chase him down and throw the cash at his face and make it clear to him that I wasn’t a whore, and he was the cheater. Obviously why his relationship is crumbling.
Instead, I buried my face in my hands and groaned.
How did I end up here?
If only I hadn’t gotten drunk last night. If only I’d just gone ho after work instead of hitting that bar. But no, I’d been upset, angry at Mom for the hundredth ti about her obsession with getting married off.
I’d taken a leave from work specifically to prepare for today, the big inauguration at Flemington Group that Mom insisted we attend. But last night, after another fight about her setting up on yet another blind date, I’d snapped.
"You’re twenty-six, Octavia! Twenty-six! All your cousins are married with children!" her voice had echoed in my head as I’d downed shot after shot at the bar.
Why couldn’t she understand that I didn’t want to be married just for the sake of being married? That I had a career, ambitions, a life of my own?
My phone buzzed, snapping out of my spiral. I reached for it and mom’s na flashed on the screen.
I groaned again and answered. "Hello?"
"Octavia! Where are you? We need to leave in an hour! The inauguration is at two, and you need to look presentable. This is important for the company, and who knows...maybe you’ll et soone eligible there!"
Of course. Everything always ca back to finding a husband.
"I’ll be there, Mom," I said tiredly and hung up before she could lecture further.
Right. The inauguration. By fire, by force, as they say.
***
An hour and a half later, I stood in the grand ballroom of the Flemington Tower, feeling like I’d been dropped into soone else’s life.
Everywhere I looked, there were designer suits, expensive jewelry, and people who clearly belonged in this world of luxury. I tugged at my blue dress, one of the few formal outfits I owned, and tried not to feel out of place.
"Isn’t this wonderful?" my mom, Patricia gawked beside , her eyes scanning the room like a hawk hunting for prey. "Such an important day for us, Octavia. If we can secure a partnership with Flemington Group, it could save our company from bankruptcy."
"And maybe you’ll et a nice young man here," my dad, Ben added with a knowing smile. "Lots of eligible bachelors in a place like this."
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Of course. Even at a business event, their priority was my love life.
"I’m here for the company, Dad," I said firmly. "That’s it."
"We’ll see," Mom said in that annoying sing-song voice that ant she had plans I wouldn’t like.
I was about to respond when soone caught my eye across the room.
My blood turned to ice.
No. No, it couldn’t be.
But it was the sa sharp cheekbones. The sa perfectly styled hair. The sa man who’d left cash on my bed like I was so kind of whore.
"What is he doing here?" I muttered, anger already bubbling up in my chest.
He was talking to an older gentleman, looking every bit the polished businessman. Professional and respectable. Nothing like the man who’d treated like garbage this morning.
Before I could think it through, my feet were moving. I dug into my purse and pulled out the cash he’d left. I was going to throw it right in his smug, handso face and tell him exactly what kind of man he was. A cheater!
I was maybe ten feet away when the lights dimd suddenly.
The massive screen behind him flickered to life, and my heart stopped.
Because in high definition for everyone to see, was on the fucking screen. And him. Stumbling through a hotel corridor, laughing drunkenly, our lips locked in a kiss that left nothing to the imagination.
The caption underneath made my knees weak:
"FRANKLIN FLEMINGTON IN ONE-NIGHT STAND WITH STRANGER"
The entire ballroom gasped in unison. Hundreds of pairs of eyes swiveled toward ... and him, standing just feet apart in the middle of the room.
Franklin Flemington?
The na hit like a freight train. Franklin Flemington. The CEO being inaugurated today. The most eligible bachelor in the city. The man every business wanted to partner with, every woman wanted to marry.
I turned to look at him, and my worst fears were confird. His face had gone completely rigid, jaw clenched, eyes blazing with fury.
And that fury was directed entirely at .
Before I could run because that was what my instincts scread, he closed the distance between us in two long strides. His hand shot out and grabbed my wrist, yanking close with a force that made stumble into his chest.
"Who the hell are you," he growled, his voice low and dangerous, ant only for my ears, "and what do you want?"
My heart hamred against my ribs. Fear coursed through , mixing with confusion and anger.
The spotlight above us seed to grow brighter, as every phone in the room was raised, recording this mont.
And I had absolutely no idea how to answer his question.
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