Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 94546 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94546 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
I could give more definitive answers if our last exchange hadn’t been while I was drunk and belligerent. I can’t remember the looks she gave me in the penthouse that morning, but I’m certain they weren’t close to the ones she gave me only hours earlier.
Once we’re alone, I shift my eyes to a stack of papers on my desk, acting as if my heart isn’t racing a million miles an hour. “You need to make this quick. I have another meeting in ten minutes.” That’s a lie. Don’t act shocked. I’ve barely been honest with myself the past four months, so you can’t expect me to be truthful with you.
You have no clue how hard it has been for me the past four months. I thought endless cross-examinations by attorneys making out I was lying about what happened to me to better my ‘prospects’ with Priest Maskretti’s money would remain the toughest months of my life, but it was nothing compared to the past few months.
I don’t think I’ve secured a single breath the entire time.
I doubt I will again.
“This won’t take ten minutes.” In the corner of my eye, I spot Caleb’s approach. He doesn’t take a seat across from me or tower over me like he did when the rage making me see nothing but black receded enough it dawned on me what I had done to Silas. He just slips an unmarked envelope onto my desk before saying, “We heard you were looking for one of these.”
“We?” I know who he’s referencing. He can’t say her name without his voice hiking with pride any easier than me.
Caleb waits until he secures the attention of my eyes before muttering, “Octavia and me.”
My heart skips a beat at the mention of her name, but I act nonchalant. “What is it?” I’m surprised when my voice comes out confident and unwavering, even with me feeling anything but.
“Open it and find out.”
Over fielding a game I don’t want to play, I snatch up the envelope and tear it open. My already spiked blood pressure surges into dangerous territory when I spot what’s inside. It is an invitation to Chains, an exclusive BDSM club that has proven impossible to get an invitation to. I’ve been seeking one for months, but even offering a blank check hasn’t seen my eyes landing on one, much less my hands.
“Where did you get this?”
Caleb’s mask slips for the quickest second before he forces it back into place. “Does that matter? We heard you wanted one. We had one, so we’re gifting it to you.”
“For how much?”
His jaw tightens so fast, his reply is minced through his teeth. “I’m not here seeking a payout. It is a gift, so accept it as one.” Not speaking another word, he dips his chin before heading for the door. He grips the door handle in a firm grasp, then cranks his neck back to me. He glances at me for a second before the mask he’s worn throughout our exchange perpetually slips away. “Can I ask one question before I leave?”
Considering he’s given me the key to enter an industry responsible for my niece’s assault three months ago, I dip my chin instead of screaming out one of the many denials in my head.
My stomach tightens in preparation for his question, but it still feels like I’m sucker-punched when he mutters, “How can you blame Octavia for what happened to you?” Even though I granted his permission to ask one question, he fires off another one. “How could you even insinuate she’s anything like him? If it weren’t for her, he’d probably still be doing what he did to you to God knows how many other children.”
I’m shocked but not enough to seek clarification. “What do you mean? What does Octavia have to do with ending his reign? I took him down. I had him convicted!”
“After she whistle blew on him.” His confession knocks me so hard I become one with my office chair. “Octavia knows about your scars because she walked in on him…” He can’t speak the words I don’t want to hear him say. “She missed the bus home from school and was told to go to the church to wait for her mother to collect her. She saw what he was doing to you, but instead of hiding it as I had for years, she spoke out. She stopped him.” He angrily brushes his hand across his cheek muttering, “And she was fucking hated for it.”
He steps closer to me, his stance a cross between shamed and determined. “Her dad called her a liar. The police who came to take her statement said she must have misunderstood what she saw, and the people she grew up admiring spat at her feet when they arrived to arrest our grandfather during an afternoon sermon. She was fucking ten, Jack. Ten! Yet she stood up to him as I wished I had years earlier. She never once folded. Not on the stand. Not after her father begged her. She fought for you…” He stops and grinds his jaw side to side before correcting, “She fought for us even with her having nothing to gain from it. Yet you blame her. You act as if she abused you when if it weren’t for her, he would still be abusing you now.”