Page 24 of Octane

“We have rules, policies, and standards to follow here at Kramer Enterprises. I’m sure an educated businessman such as yourself can understand.”

“Understand this. I have standards too. I’ll either work withMs. Stoneor I’ll take my 1.5-billion-dollar marketing project somewhere else,” I stare him down and watch as his pupils flare upon hearing the dollar amount that I’m prepared to spend. “I highly doubt that my friends on the board, Mr. Cosgrove and Mr. Bennett, would be happy to hear that you turned down such a high-grossing project like this.”

“Our board is in agreement with our policies,” he counters.

Dickhead.

Without another word, I walk past him and out of the office. Sawyer isn’t in the reception area, the lobby, or the garage when I get there. I was hoping to catch her before she left. I walk to my car and get in. Sitting in the driver’s seat, I wonder why this is so important to me. Sawyer is an employee, nothing more.

At least, that’s how it should be.

Somehow, Sawyer has managed to hook me. From the very first time I laid eyes on her, she affected me. She doesn’t know it, and I didn’t want to admit that I wanted her, but there it is. It’s not like me to involve myself in the affairs of others, but I can’t leave this alone.

I can’t leave her alone.

CHAPTER NINE

I’m scared. I’m embarrassed. I can’t keep living my life this way. Daniel refused to let me explain to him what happened. I tried to tell him that Jackson showed up there, unannounced. That I didn’t feel right turning away business, turning away myotherboss. He wouldn’t let me get one word in, he just told me that if I didn’t leave the office immediately, he would see to it that I wouldn’t be able to return for a long time.

I know Daniel well enough to know what he meant, and the look in his eye terrified me enough not to want to challenge him further. My phone rings as I race my car down Sunset Boulevard toward home. One look at the screen and my fear increases.

It's Jackson.

I click the button on the side of the phone to ignore the call. Again, I don't know if I'm more afraid to talk to him at the moment or ashamed. I took things too far by moving forward with our meeting. I never should have allowed him to stay. I knew what would happen when Daniel found out, but I did it anyway. If I were smart, I would have apologized to Jackson for not being able to help him today, and explained the process for scheduling an appointment for a meeting with one of our more senior account managers.

What was I thinking? Did I really just want to prove that I could land an account on my own? Or did this have something specifically to do with Jackson?

I could feel myself loosening up at the table next to him with each minute that passed. As he talked to me about his new product and what his hopes are for his company, I caught myself staring at the chiseled profile of his face.

He reminded me of the way I used to talk about racing. And the way I felt in the early days of college when Daniel would go out with his friends and leave me home alone. I would play around on my computer, coming up with different design ideas, pretending that I owned my own company and that it was one of the most sought-after graphic design and marketing firms in the industry. My heart weeps thinking about the time when I was openly passionate about my dreams.

My phone rings again as I pull my car into the garage beneath our building. Again, it’s Jackson, and again, I send him to voicemail. I’ll need to go through my phone and delete all of his calls and messages before Daniel gets home. I wish I knew when that would be. He could have me sitting upstairs alone, in agony for hours, wondering when he’s going to walk through the door. Or he could come home within the next few minutes.

Did he leave right after I did? I overheard him confronting Jackson when he called out after me. Daniel must have stopped him to talk, otherwise Jackson probably would have been right on my heels. I’m glad he was kept from chasing me. That would have made things much worse than they already are.

As I get into the elevator, my phone beeps notifying me that I’ve received a text message. I know it’s from Jackson without even having to look. I unlock my phone and pull up the messaging app.

Jackson Powell: I need to know that you’re okay. Please call me.

Me: I’m fine. Came down with a migraine and needed to leave. Am home now and about to go lie down. My phone will be off.

I beg him to get the hint and leave this alone. The elevator doors open, and I enter the hallway. My phone beeps again as I slide my key into the lock. I enter my condo, closing and locking the door behind me. Then I pull up my messages.

Jackson Powell: Can I see you?

My heart clenches knowing that he may very well never see me again. I’ll be lucky if my racing career can withstand the fallout of the situation I’ve gotten myself into.

I begin to type out my reply, telling Jackson it’s not a good idea, but I delete it before I hit send. I can’t respond to him.

Within seconds, another beep sounds from my phone.

Jackson Powell: Call me if you need anything at all. I can be there in a heartbeat.

I delete our text message thread from my phone. Then I pull up my call history and erase the two phone calls he made to me as well as the voicemails he just left. I don’t listen to them. I think if I were to hear his concerned tone and caring disposition right now, it would reduce me to tears. It hurts knowing that someone as genuine as Jackson is out there, but I’ll never have anyone like him in my life.

My phone beeps again, and my heart leaps. I want it to be Jackson. I want him to give me a way out. I want him to tell me that he stood up to Daniel and… and...

And what?

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