Page 26 of Octane

“I love you, Sas. Call if you need anything.”

“Love you too. Bye.”

* * *

When I gotoff the phone with my sister, I quickly showered then put some chicken and broccoli in the oven to bake. I am now leaning against the countertop, holding onto my glass of wine, staring at the timer as it counts down the time until dinner will be ready. As it counts down the time remaining until Daniel will walk through that door and finally get his chance to confront me in private about what happened earlier.

Finally, at five minutes to five, I remove our dinner from the oven. Placing a piece of chicken and some broccoli on each of our plates, I stand next to my chair and wait for Daniel to walk through the door. I loathe every second that passes, each moment sounding like a gunshot going off in my ears as the seconds tick away from under the faceplate of my watch.

Five comes and goes.

Five fifteen passes.

Five-thirty.

Quarter to six rolls around, and it’s then I know.

My punishment has already started. It started the moment I walked out of the office today. I am being held hostage by my fear of him walking through that door and finding me anywhere but standing next to my chair, dinner on the table, waiting for him to get home.

CHAPTER TEN

JACKSON

Icircled the garage, looking for her car, when I got home. When I found it, it was empty. I didn’t think I would catch her, but I had hoped I was wrong. Sawyer isn’t answering me anymore, and I need to make sure she’s okay. Taking the elevator to the lobby of the complex, I practically run toward the manager’s office. I need to speak with them and see if they’ll help me. When I get there, I open the door, letting myself in.

“Mr. Powell, how can I help you?”

“Hi Sarah, I need a favor.”

“Sure.”

A dangerous smile breaks out on her face, and I hate it. I know what’s hidden within it, and I want no part of it. I hate women who think they can throw themselves at me or win me over with their promiscuity. I hate even more that the media has made me out to be the playboy that I’m not. They give these girls the wrong notion that I’m easy and will invite them into my bed with very little thought.

No, I’m not in a steady relationship with anyone. Yes, I bring a different date with me to each function I go to. No, I don’t sleep with them despite what they turn around and tell the paparazzi.

Well, not all of them. Like all men my age, I have needs, after all.

Yes, I want to be able to find that one person to share my life with. More than anything, but, until very recently, I hadn’t known whether that would even be possible anymore. Something broke inside of me when I found Kristen in bed with Derrick a week before our wedding.

I hadn’t thought I’d ever be able to feel this way about someone again. Now that I know it’s possible, I need to do anything I can to help her.

“I need the unit number of someone in the building.”

“Mr. Powell, I could get into a lot of trouble for divulging that kind of information.” Sarah looks up at me through thick lashes, a fake look of concern on her face.

I take a deep breath.

Sarah stands and rounds her desk, stopping when she’s directly in front of me. Her closeness irritates me.

“This is serious,” I say to her.

“Maybe we can make a deal. You scratch my back, and I’ll scratch yours.” She lifts her brow as she bites on the nail of her index finger, playfully.

“I’m not going to sleep with you.”

“What about a date then?”

“No, this isn’t negotiable. She could be in danger. I need to make sure she’s okay.”

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