Chapter 20
~ Franklin ~
It was my grandfather's seventy-fifth birthday, hosted at his expansive vacation estate in The Hamptons. The air was thick with the scent of sea salt and expensive perfume.
Outside, the paparazzi were thick as flies, their flashes illuminating Octavia and me as we performed the role of the perfect couple.
I knew those photos would be splashed across every tabloid by morning. When I finally found a moment to stand with a business associate, I glanced at Octavia.
She was physically there, draped in a stunning gown, but her soul was miles away.
She looked hollow.
"Stop sulking and act like you're enjoying the party," I leaned in, whispering harshly into her ear while maintaining a pleasant smile for the crowd.
"I'm not in the mood to pretend, Franklin," she whispered back, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.
"You have to. People are starting to talk. Straighten up and look happy."
"Franklin!" a voice boomed. It was Martin Page, a long-time friend and partner.
I put a firm hand on the small of Octavia's back, ushering her forward.
"Martin. Good to see you man."
"Good to be here. Thanks for the invite and Happy birthday to your grandfather"
"Thanks" I said with a smile.
Martin's eyes traveled to Octavia.
"Have you met my wife? Octavia Herman-Flemington." I cleared my throat, a silent command for her to snap out of it.
"Hi... I'm Octavia Herman... Flemington," she said, stumbling over the last name as if it were a bitter pill.
"A pleasure, Mrs. Flemington," Martin said, thrusting out his hand.
Octavia took it reluctantly, offering a few polite words about business before Martin was pulled away by someone else.
The second we were alone, I turned on her. "A reminder: you signed a contract. In exchange for me paying off your parents' crushing debt, you perform. If you fail to play the part, I stop the payments. Do you understand?"
Octavia looked at me with a deadness that should have bothered me, but didn't. "I've heard you. I need to use the restroom."
She walked away without waiting for a reply. I watched her go, then headed toward my grandfather to pay my respects.
"Happy birthday, Grandpa."
"Thank you, Franklin. Where is Octavia?"
"In the restroom."
"She looks miserable, Franklin. I'm serious."
"No shit, Grandpa. So am I. This was your idea, remember? I'm just waiting for the two-year sentence to end so I can get my life back on track."
Suddenly, my phone buzzed in my pocket. A text from Bella: I'M HERE. THE GUEST BEDROOM UPSTAIRS.
I invited her to come over.
My blood began to simmer. "I have to go, Grandpa. Excuse me."
I hurried up the stairs, my heart thumping with anticipation. I slipped into the guest room and closed the door behind me. Bella was sprawled across the bed in a silk red dress that left almost nothing to the imagination.
She wore black lace stockings that disappeared into the shadows of her thighs.
"I've been waiting," she said, biting her lower lip.
"Like hell you have," I growled.
I lunged for her, capturing her lips in a bruising, hungry kiss.
She moaned, her hands immediately tangling in my hair. I reached down, grabbing her breast through the thin fabric and rolling her nipple between my fingers.
She let out a sharp cry of pleasure. I fumbled with the zipper of her dress, sliding it down until her breasts were spilled out, glowing in the dim light of the room.
"Fuck, Bella," I breathed, my mouth moving to her throat.
She worked frantically at my tuxedo, stripping away my jacket and shirt until I was bare.
Her hands went to my belt, unbuckling it and pulling down my briefs. My cock snapped out, fully erect and pulsing.
She pushed me back onto the edge of the bed and dropped to her knees.
She took my cock into her mouth, her tongue swirling around the head before she began to suck me deep and rhythmically.
The sensation was pure, unadulterated bliss. I gripped her hair, my hips bucking slightly as her head moved up and down.
"Fuck, Bell... you're going to make me cum,"
I groaned, my head hitting the headboard.
She pulled back, looking up at me with predatory eyes. "Not yet. I want you inside me."
I didn't need to be told twice. I stood up, lifting her onto the bed. I didn't bother with the rest of her clothes; I just ripped her panties aside. She fished a condom out of her purse—she always came prepared. I snapped it on and drove into her in one hard thrust.
We both cried out. The warmth was incredible.
I gripped her legs, throwing them wide over my shoulders so I could bury myself as deep as possible.
"Harder, Franklin! Please!" she gasped.
I picked up the pace, my skin slapping against hers in a frantic rhythm. She reached down, rubbing her clitoris as I moved, her eyes locked onto mine with a nasty, satisfied glint.
"Yes! Fuck, yes!" I chanted, lost in the heat of it.
I flipped her over, taking her from behind. I watched the way her body reacted to every shove, the way her skin flushed. I leaned down, licking the sweat from her back before pulling her upright to suckle at her breasts again. I was a man possessed.
"I'm coming," I growled, my muscles tensing.
I gave her three more powerful thrusts and released, a loud groan escaping my throat.
We collapsed together, panting and sweating against the silk sheets.
"I love you, Bell," I whispered.
"Love you too," she replied, though her voice sounded more satisfied than emotional.
We started to dress, the adrenaline slowly fading. Just as I was buttoning my shirt, the door clicked open.
Octavia stood there.
She didn't scream. She didn't cry. She just stood in the doorway with a look of pure, deadpan shock that quickly solidified into a mask of indifference.
She looked at us — at Bella's disheveled hair and my half-buttoned shirt—as if we were a boring business report.
"Your grandfather is looking for you," she said, her voice completely flat. "He tried calling, but you didn't pick up. He's in the study. He says it's urgent."
Without another word, she turned and walked away.
"Well... that was weird," Bella said, adjusting her dress.
"Whatever. Who cares?" I said, though a small knot of unease formed in my stomach. I gave Bella one last kiss. "Let me know when you get home."
I finished dressing and headed down to the study. My grandfather was pacing the floor, his face pale and drawn.
Octavia was standing by the window, her back to us.
"Where have you been? I've been calling you for twenty minutes!" he snapped.
"I... I was busy," I stammered
.
"Octavia? Can you excuse us?" Frederick asked. She left without a word, the click of the door echoing like a gunshot.
"What is it, Grandpa?"
"It's Dorian Harrington..he called me" my grandfather replied with a frantic look.
"What? Why? I thought you fired Harrington months ago."
"I did," he whispered, stepping closer.
"He knows, Franklin. He knows the marriage is a charade, a fake contract. He's threatening to go to the board and the press unless we pay him an astronomical sum."
My heart sank. "So he's blackmailing us."
"Yes. And if we go to the police, the investigation will reveal the very truth we're trying to hide. We'll be ruined. The board will strip you of the CEO title before the sun comes up."
I looked at the closed door where Octavia had just disappeared. "So we pay him?"
"We have no choice," my grandfather sighed, looking every bit of his seventy-five years. "We have to succumb to his demands. For now."