Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 129460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 518(@250wpm)___ 432(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 518(@250wpm)___ 432(@300wpm)
While silently encouraging her to breathe, I return Octavia’s stare. I almost have her panic attack under control when it suddenly dawns on me that we’re not alone.
The man we’re investigating as if he is a criminal is awake.
“Jack… ah… good morning,” Octavia greets while moving to hide the paperwork we promised we’d never let see daylight again.
When Jack swoops down to kiss Octavia’s cheeks, she tugs on my arm with enough force to dislodge both my feet and my heart. “Jack, this is my husband… Stefon.” I shoot my eyes to hers, trying in vain to tell her that isn’t the right ruse to use, but it is too late, her trench has been dug. “I was just telling him how you had a little bit too much to drink at our work function last night and that no one would give you a ride home so I offered for you to sleep in our spare room.”
“Spare room? What spare room?”
My head blurts out expletives when she stomps on my foot, shutting me up long enough to add, “Stefon was away on business. He… ah… left early to surprise me. Didn’t you, Stefon?”
Jack isn’t buying her ruse, but I throw myself under the bus with Octavia. “Of course. Anything for my little snookums.”
The words taste as bitter as the riled look Jack shoots Octavia when she says, “So, I guess now that you’re feeling better, you’ll probably want to get going.”
Stealing his chance to foil our ruse, Octavia shoves his cell phone into his chest, then pivots him to face the door.
“I—”
“No thanks necessary, Jack. What are friends for if not to sleep off a drunken haze?” Her interruption has my mind automatically jumping back to the time Jess did a lot more than let me sleep off a drug and alcohol-fueled bender on her couch. She put her family’s reputation on the line.
And how do I thank her? I bolt out of her house like she’s hideously ugly.
Octavia’s steps stumble when Jack shrugs out of her hold. “I wasn’t offering you my thanks. I was going to ask if you could collect my wallet from the bedside table.” I begin to wonder if his bite will be as vicious as his bark when he glares at me over Octavia’s shoulder.
I must not be the only one with suspicions. A second after noticing the direction of Jack’s slit gaze, Octavia says, “Why don’t you go grab it since you know where you placed it. It will be safer this way.”
When Jack storms into her room, I hold back my annoyance for only a second. “You’re an idiot, Tivy.” I’m not solely referencing her bringing home a guy without knowing his last name. I’m also talking about her inability to spot a man who won’t back down without a fight. Jack wants Octavia, and this won’t be the end of his campaign. It may encourage it.
Jealousy has a way of making men act like morons.
Octavia snatches up the paperwork from the dining room table and stuffs it into the moldy box I’ve filled halfway while muttering under her breath, “Says the guy treating the love of his life as if she’s nothing more than a friend.”
“Don’t bring Jess into this.”
I walked straight into her fucking trap. “How do you know I was talking about Jess? I could have been referring to anyone.”
I’ll give it to her. Even while angry, she’s smart.
Needing to take the focus off me before I wonder if anyone could get over the facts in the box I’m clutching, I stare Octavia in the eyes and snap out, “Fix this, Tivy.”
“And how am I meant to do that?” She must be drowning, but she never asks for help even when she’s desperate for it.
“I don’t know,” I admit, truly unsure which direction she should take. “But I do know that this isn’t right.” I gesture my head to Jack, who is stalking down the hall, looking as equally ruffled as he is annoyed.
He internally fights himself for almost thirty seconds before his smarts win. He farewells Octavia with a chin bob like I have Jess many times the past three years before he makes a beeline for the door.
Octavia jumps when he slams the door before her focus shifts back to the box I’m clutching. “Nu-uh. This is going in the dumpster where it belongs.”
My name isn’t associated with any of the documents because I never came forward, but I still don’t want anyone seeing the shit written on them. It wouldn’t take a genius to work out that Grandfather had a type, and when you learn that I don’t have his blood, you may realize that his type is me.
Although relief is Octavia’s first emotion, her brows soon furrow. “You can’t leave that in a dumpster. What if someone finds it?”