AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“We’ll keep in touch.” Saluting her, I quickly rush to the elevators, spotting the silver one that’s several feet away. I’m ready to press the ID to the keypad when it opens on its own, and the three horsemen get out, the surge of energy around me making me jump to the side.
They march forward, ignoring everyone around them, and as they pass me by, I hold my breath only to do a double take when Florian’s gaze lands on me, surprise flicking in his green eyes that he quickly masks with indifference, and then he shifts his attention toward the exit.
“That’s what born lucky looks like,” I mutter, the word luxury practically reeking off them. I enter the elevator, pressing the ID again and pushing the top floor button, leaning against the wall as it takes me up.
Mentally, I’m trying to prepare myself for the upcoming meeting, going over all the facts and evidence I have, needing to ask him all the questions without exposing myself.
Police officers went to great lengths thirteen years ago to cover up my name from the public. They explained that it was the best way to protect me from the Church Killer should he come and finish the job. I had to promise never to utter a word about it except in therapy provided by the state, and they moved me to another city so I could start fresh.
Although after working for such a long time in the field, the cynical and pragmatic part of me suspects they did it to have a witness on their hands so they could put him behind bars. They were desperate, not that it brought them any results.
Either way, my past was and still is a huge secret. The only people who know about it are Giselle and my godfather. Swiping my middle and first names also helped keep my identity incognito, so I have to be careful not to spill too much while talking to Octavius.
The elevator pings, the doors sliding open, and my eyes widen when I step into the spacious hallway, with flowery scents floating in the air and complete silence.
The parquet glistens under the harsh light, opening up the view on the wide white leather couch, two chairs, and a small table filled with pastries while the coffee machine buzzes in the distance, mixing with the fingers tapping on the keyboard.
I follow the direction of the sound and see a desk with a single laptop and printer where a blond man wearing a suit sits, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose. He pauses his work to lift the cup of steaming coffee to his mouth when our eyes meet. “Ms. Evans,” he greets me, getting up and placing the mug back on the table. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He gives me the familiar fake smile that must be Reed’s empire signature smile that lets you know you do not belong here. “Would you like some tea or coffee?”
“No. I’d prefer to just have my appointment now.”
“Of course.” He picks up his phone, presses the button, and only after a second, speaks into it. “Mr. Reed, your next appointment is here.” Several beats pass. “Yes. This appointment was requested by Mr. Callum MacRae.” Again silence followed by, “Do I have permission to quote?” He must get it because my jaw drops at what he says next. “Consider it payment for the favor I’ve provided earlier. And you can thank me later.” Todd tugs at his collar, sweat coating his forehead. “That’s what he said, sir. He also mentioned that if I don’t comply, you might fire me because your word means a promise and not getting this appointment would have meant for you breaking it.”
My God, Callum is indeed a master manipulator, and dread fills every bone in my body, anticipating Octavius’s mood. Judging by how Todd is sweating and drumming his fingers on the desk, Octavius has the guy stressed.
However, my fear pales in comparison to the determination fueling my blood that’s hungry for the answers decades in the making, and if I have to withstand his infamous temper to get them?
So be it. I’ve been pissing people off for an eternity, so what’s one more name added to the list, right?
Even to my own ears, this sounds lame because compared to most people, Octavius has the means to end me.
Figuratively and literally.
“Yes. I understand.” He hangs up and stretches his mouth in yet another smile that must hurt him. “Mr. Reed is waiting for you.” He roams his eyes over me and comes closer, whispering this time around. “Please don’t stare at his scar.” He swallows. “When people do, their appointments usually end in tears, and my day turns into hell.”
My heart pangs painfully, imagining the man behind these doors being so vulnerable to the scrutiny or curiosity he reads on everyone’s faces whenever they look at his scar. They might not have bad intentions, but his reaction says he doesn’t give a shit.
In his book, whoever stares automatically flinches away.
“I won’t.”
I walk toward the brown doors and raise my fist, ready to knock while a tremor rushes through me in anticipation.
For whatever reason, it seems the world won’t be the same once I enter the devil’s den, and while it should scare me…it fills me with curiosity instead and the deep need to discover what hides underneath the almost mythical persona.
“Don’t knock, just come in.”
I close my eyes, gathering all my courage, and finally twist the handle, stepping inside. I see Octavius facing away from me, gazing into the window that presents one of the best and flattering views of the Chicago skyline.
He freezes when he sees my reflection in the glass and slowly turns around, our eyes clashing, and an insane hot flush travels all over my system, making it hard to breathe. On instinct, I step away as if it has the power to stop the invisible pull this man has on me.
He’s even more gorgeous up close.
We stare at one another for several beats, the only sound disturbing the silence the wooden clock hanging on the wall counting each second we spend in each other’s company. Finally, I whisper, “Hi.”
Possessiveness and heat fill his gaze, the muscle on his jaw twitching as he slides his burning eyes over my form, and goose bumps break on my skin because it’s so vivid I can almost feel it on my flesh.
And miss it when he replaces it with such rage, panic envelops me, and I wince at his harshly spoken question. “What do you want?”
