Page 183 of Fixation
“Hmm. I’m dying to get my hands on those.” Her pen flies over her notepad as her cameraman snaps photos of my wide smile. “What inspired you to go in that direction?”
Love. Deranged, twisted love. “I was down with the flu last month.”
“I got the newsletter.” Octavia nods.
I’m shocked. Beyond flattered that a woman as busy as her would subscribe to my newsletter.
“It was bad. The worst I’ve ever had.” That part is true. I never fainted from a fever before. Never hallucinated. Never let a man kidnap me. “I was in a dark place, and it was terrifying. And, in its way, beautiful too.”
Anderson was that dark place. That beautiful thing.
“I turned my pain into art. That’s it.”
“Oh.” She eyes me sympathetically, then changes her tone into secretive one. “Could I have a sneak peek? It’ll stay between you and me, I swear.”
Normally, my answer would be a flat-out no. The smallest leak could allow anyone to steal my designs. Weeks or months of my and my team’s hard labor would go down the drain.
The answer is still no. But while I have no plans to show her one of my pieces, I do have the urge to give her something. A teaser for her and her audience.
“Sure, and you can put it in the article too.”
I’m about to stand up to get my bag, but Octavia shakes her head furiously. Snaps her fingers. Her assistant materializes, my bag in her hand.
“Thank you.” I accept it from her, digging inside it until my fingers lock around what I’ve been looking for.
The onyx gemstone is heavy in my palm. I open it for Octavia to see, and her eyes latch onto it. Her curiosity is bursting at the seams.
Her greedy stare flips something inside me. Possessiveness, sharp and sudden.
I put Anderson—err, the gemstone—back into my bag.
Mine.
“Thank you.” Octavia rearranges her features, returning to being the composed woman she’d been throughout this interview. “It was wonderful having you, Harper.”
“My pleasure.” My leather bag is on my shoulder. I’m up on my feet, fully expecting my ankle to act out as soon as I put my weight on it. What a pleasant surprise that it isn’t that bad. Well, not a surprise. What a gift, from Anderson. How he heals me. “Contact Emersyn once the article is ready. She’ll forward it to my PR agency like we discussed.”
“Will do.” Octavia rises to her feet, shaking my hand.
She turns to her assistant.
I, the woman who fell for her kidnapper, check my phone for messages from him.
A pang of disappointment has my heart twisting. The last text was about my high heels.
I read it again.
I might not be able to deny you an orgasm, but I promise you’ll ache, kitten. I’ll spank you raw when I’m home. You won’t be able to sit on your ass for days. When you do, you’ll think of me. Of this moment.
The message is hot. Sinfully delicious.
I’ve gotten spoiled. Desperate for his attention.
A part of me has held onto hope that he’d find out where the interview was. That he’d text me to wait for him outside the loft. I wanted him to stalk me. To show up here after his shift ended.
He’s supposed to be wrapping up in a few minutes. And he hasn’t texted.
Well, he doesn’t owe me a ride. It isn’t fair to expect that of him.
