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)
Disappointment flares through her eyes before she shakes her head. “No, but I’m certain we have a situation in editorials.” When my brows furrow, shocked she thinks I have any say at anything that occurs in editorials, she adds, “Slade is preparing a feature on Jack. It includes his arrest amongst many other things.”
She doesn’t need to spell out what ‘things’ entails. Her facial expression announces the whole horrid story.
“Where is he?”
While she guides me toward a section I had once hoped to work in, I prepare the lengthy tirade I plan to unleash on Slade. It includes many of the words Grant used when defending him, but I’ve flipped them on their head. They include him being sued, never working again, and how there will not only be moral ramifications to his actions but legal ones as well.
“You need to consider a new field of work. My God, Tivy. I didn’t know you had it in you.” Jess jabs her finger into the elevator button before spinning to face me. “Slade just got torn a new asshole, but you did it in a way he wants to thank you for the invasion.” Something on my face must give me away. “Oh, shit, Tiv. I’m sorry. I didn’t think before speaking.” Her reply confirms that she and Caleb heard every word that Jack and Silas shouted yesterday. “It is a bad habit of mine, and I really need to learn how to control it.”
The genuine remorse in her voice exposes she didn’t mean her comment with malice. “It’s fine. I often get caught talking nonsense.”
We ride the elevator to the top floor in silence, the quiet only interrupted when Mr. Potts spots my exit. “Let’s go, Ms. Henslee. We haven’t got all day.”
Years of being pushed around sees my feet jumping into action before my head and heart can object. I race into my office to grab a notepad and pen, my pace slowing when I spot a handwritten message on the notepad. It isn’t in my handwriting, but the location and monetary amount circled gives away who wrote it.
It is the address of the penthouse Jack purchased Saturday night.
I freeze as a surge of hope darts through me.
Could that be where Jack is?
Could he be at my safe haven?
Confident I’m on the money, I tear off the top sheet of the notepad, then bolt out of my office like a maniac.
“Octavia,” Mr. Potts shouts when he spots me racing in the opposite direction of his office. When I request for the rider in the elevator to wait, he shouts, “If you leave, consider yourself fired.”
I dart into the elevator without the slightest falter in my strides. There are far more important things to life than financial stability. Furthermore, I’ve pulled myself out of the trenches once, so I’m sure I can do it again.
As I race out of headquarters, I spot a cab coming from the other direction. I toss my hand in the air, summoning it for only a second before I remember that I don’t have access to my cell phone or purse, so I can’t pay the fare.
“Get in,” states a male voice behind me a second after finalizing my demand for the cab to stop.
Fitz looks as tired as Caleb. However, nothing but gratitude gleams in his eyes when he opens the back door of the cab for me before handing the driver a one-hundred-dollar bill. “Take her where she needs to go, then wait out front. If she doesn’t return within twenty minutes, you can leave. If she does, send the bill for wherever she needs to go next to this account.” He hands the driver a glossy black business card. I’m about to thank him, but before I can, he shifts his focus back to me before warning, “This isn’t going to be pleasant, Octavia, but if anyone can get through to him, it will be you.”
My nose tingles as fresh tears spring in my eyes. Fitz’s relationship with Jack exposes it is more than work-related, so for him to believe I have more chance of getting through to him means a lot.
“What should I prepare for, Fitz?”
He licks his lips but doesn’t look at me while replying, “Decades of hurt being unleashed at once.” He steals my chance to reply by shutting the cab door then tapping on the roof, silently advising the driver that there is an opening coming up.
Nerves take flight in my stomach the longer the cab rolls across the asphalt. The worry in Fitz’s tone when he warned what I’m approaching won’t be pretty is already off-putting, not to mention Elaine’s tear-streaked face when I enter the lobby of Jack’s penthouse.
“Let her in,” she advises the doorman before she shifts her eyes to her feet.
She doesn’t look at me when I’m guided toward the elevator by a security officer. She doesn’t move until I’m ushered into the idling elevator with the pin code already punched into the digital dashboard, and I’m left alone to fend for myself.