Chapter 68

~ Octavia ~

Our luggage was already waiting for us when we entered the executive suite.

The air in the room was thick, charged with the same electric tension as the salt spray outside. I sat on the edge of the enormous king-sized bed, testing its softness while Franklin dismissed the bellhop.

As the door clicked shut, I looked at him nonchalantly. "Since there’s only one bed, I’ll take it and you can have the couch." I stood up to grab my suitcase.

"No," Franklin said, his voice low.

I sighed, turning back with a frown. "Fine. If you’re going to be difficult, I’ll take the couch and you take the bed. Happy?"

"No," he said again, his gaze locked on mine.

"No? Then what do you want, Franklin?" I snapped.

"We can share it. The bed is more than big enough for two people."

"That’s impossible. I’m not sharing a bed with you. We don’t need to perform for the staff in here, Franklin. The romance act stops where the privacy begins."

"This isn’t an act, Octavia," he said, his voice dropping to a soft, weary register. "And I’m not pretending. I truly want us to share the bed because I—"

A sharp knock at the door cut him off. "Mr. Flemington?"

It was Mr Rice, his secretary. Franklin exhaled sharply, looking frustrated as he turned to answer.

My phone buzzed in my pocket—a text from Victoria.

COME DOWN TO THE LOBBY! WE’RE HEADING TO THE BEACH!

I’ll be there, I typed back.

P.S. WEAR A BIKINI. THE WEATHER IS PERFECT, she added. 𝓯𝙧𝓮𝓮𝒘𝓮𝙗𝙣𝒐𝒗𝒆𝓵.𝓬𝓸𝒎

I sent back a rolling-eye emoji but headed for the bathroom anyway.

Franklin was still talking to his secretary in the hallway when I changed into a pink floral bikini, pulling my sundress back on over it. When I stepped out, he had just returned to the suite.

"Where are you going?" he asked, his eyes scanning my casual outfit.

"The beach. Victoria is waiting."

"Maybe I should join you both," he suggested, taking a step toward me.

"What? No! Don’t make this weird, Franklin. Stay here and work." I didn’t wait for an answer; I practically bolted out the door.

Down at the shore, the white sand was dotted with resort guests. Victoria, already in a bright blue bikini, waved me over.

"Is this a business trip or a vacation?" she giggled as I approached.

"It feels like a forced honeymoon," I muttered, though she didn’t hear me over the sound of the waves.

"I still hate your husband for what he did, but I have to hand it to him—this beats the office," Victoria said, shielding her eyes from the sun. "Now, get out of that dress. The water is calling."

I shed my sundress and we raced into the surf. We had taken swimming lessons together years ago, so we dove into the waves with ease, the cool water washing away the morning’s stress.

Soon, a few more colleagues joined us.

We spent the afternoon splashed in the shallows, throwing handfuls of water at each other like children, eventually retreating to the sand to sunbathe.

"Thanks to Octavia’s husband, we actually have a vacation," Ava sighed, adjusting her sunglasses. "Even if it is ’strictly business.’" Sarah said.

We stayed until the sun began to dip toward the horizon, painting the sky in bruises of purple and gold. Mr Rice eventually made the rounds, announcing that the other executives had arrived and the orientation would begin in twenty minutes.

I hurried back to the suite to change.

Luckily, Franklin was already gone. I pulled on a pair of sleek trousers and a silk blouse—the perfect middle ground between business and casual—and headed to the oceanfront ballroom.

The orientation lasted ninety minutes. By the time it ended, my stomach was growling.

"I’m starving," Victoria whispered.

"Me too," I agreed. "I haven’t eaten since we left Manhattan."

"I think we’re all hungry!" Tina added, a bit too loudly.

Franklin, who had been deep in conversation with a director nearby, looked over. "You haven’t eaten?" He walked toward us, ignoring the deadly glare I sent Tina for opening her mouth.

"We missed lunch, Mr. Flemington," Tina said.

"My apologies. I should have paid closer attention. Let’s head to the dining room immediately."

Dinner was a grand affair, and as the "happy couple," I was forced to sit at Franklin’s side. The resort staff moved with practiced grace, serving courses of fresh seafood.

"I hope the meal is to everyone’s liking," Franklin announced to the table.

"It’s wonderful, thank you!" the team chorused.

He turned to me, his hand slipping over mine on the tablecloth. He squeezed gently, his thumb grazing my knuckles. I saw Ava and Tina exchange a swooning look. I forced a tight smile and buried my face in my salad, my heart hammering against my ribs.

Once the meal was over and the men started talking shop, I excused myself. I told Victoria I was going for a stroll to clear my head.

The beach at night was hauntingly beautiful. The moon reflected off the black water, and the wind played with my hair. For a moment, I actually felt at peace.

"Strolling alone?"

I didn’t need to turn around to know the voice. "Why do you keep following me, Franklin?"

"Maybe I just like where you’re going," he said, catching up to me.

"Stop it. You’re suffocating me. I need space, and I need you to stop interfering in my life."

"It’s too late for that, Octavia. I want to be in your life." He stepped in front of me, forcing me to stop walking.

I looked up at him, searching for the icy, cold blue eyes I had known for two years.

They were gone. In their place was a warmth and an intensity that made my breath catch. It wasn’t just care—it was something deeper, something that terrified me.

I tried to push past him, but he caught my arm. "Let go, Franklin."

"No," he said firmly, his grip steady but gentle. "I’m not letting go. Not this time. I’m going to hold on even tighter."

"What is fucking wrong with you? Why are you doing this?"

"It’s because—"

His phone erupted in his pocket, a loud, jarring ringtone that shattered the moment. "Damn it!" he hissed under his breath. He pulled the phone out, gesturing for me to wait, but I didn’t.

I backed away, then turned and ran toward the lights of the resort, my heart racing with a fear I couldn’t explain. I wasn’t just running from him—I was running from the possibility that I might actually want him to stay.