Chapter 29
~ Franklin ~
The next morning, the air in the dining room was thick with a tension that made every clink of a spoon sound like a gunshot.
Octavia and I sat through another quiet, hollow breakfast. I remembered the way Olga had cornered me in the study last night, her eyes pleading for Octavia's safety, so I forced myself to speak.
"Is everything okay with you?" I asked, the words feeling heavy and artificial.
She looked up at me, and for a moment, I was struck by how hollow she looked. She looked as if she hadn't slept in days; dark bags of fatigue hung under her eyes, and her skin was unnervingly pale.
"Yes. I'm fine," she said curtly, her focus returning to her oats.
"I'm asking because of how you look... you look stressed out," I said.
She scoffed, a jagged, sarcastic smile twisting her lips.
"Like you actually care," she mumbled.
"You're right, I don't care. But I have the right to ask. I'm your husband, remember?"
"Like you said, Franklin, you are my husband only on paper. So no, you don't have the right to ask. Even if I told you what has been bothering me, you wouldn't care at all. It's better if I fight my own demons."
I stared at her, my patience thinning.
"Olga told me something last night."
Octavia froze.
Her voice was barely a whisper when she asked, "What did she tell you?"
"She said something about you being followed. Being watched. Is that true? Or are you just involving the staff in some elaborate scheme to get my attention? Because if that's the case, Octavia, congratulations. It worked. You have my attention."
"Stop it, Franklin," she said sharply, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and exhaustion.
"What I told her was the truth. Someone is stalking me. I'm being watched. Olga only told you out of concern because I knew your reaction would be exactly what it is right now. You're mocking me."
"If it's stress from the project making you see things that aren't real, then I suggest you take some time off—"
"It's not stress, damn it! I know what I saw!" She slammed her spoon down.
"One moment it's a tinted SUV, the next it's a black van. It just keeps spiraling, and it's making me paranoid."
"You just need rest, Octavia. Right now, you're sounding crazy, and it isn't funny," I said, rolling my eyes.
"Why aren't you listening to me? Have I ever acted crazy before? Why can't you believe me?" Her hand squeezed into a tight fist on the tablecloth.
"Well, can you blame me? You aren't a celebrity or some famous, high-profile figure who would attract a stalker. I, for one, am famous in all of New York, and even I don't have a stalker. You, who are nothing compared to me, claim to have one? Listen to yourself. No one is following you. Your mind is playing tricks on you. Sleep it off, and you'll be fine."
Octavia stood up abruptly, giving me a long, searing glare that felt like it could burn through skin.
She grabbed her purse from the chair and stormed out of the dining room without another word.
I leaned back, sighing in irritation.
One of the maids, Joyce, moved in to clear Octavia's half-eaten breakfast.
"Hey, you!" I barked.
"Yes, Mr. Flemington?"
she replied, keeping her head down.
"Where's Olga?"
"In her bedroom, sir. She will be out soon to—"
"Call her in here. I want a word with her."
"Yes, Mr. Flemington."
Minutes later, Olga appeared, her face etched with the same worry from the night before.
"Mr. Flemington... Joyce said you called for me. Is there any problem?"
"Yes," I nodded, smiling through my lingering anger.
"I'm so glad you asked what the problem is. My problem is that you should not, under any circumstances, listen to whatever bullshit Octavia tells you. She is a stubborn woman who won't listen to a word I say, so I suggest you stop listening to her.
Whatever she tells you from now on, you dismiss it. I don't want to hear another word about her being stalked. It affects my mood and ruins my day. Do I make myself clear, Olga?"
Olga looked devastated.
"But Mr. Flemington, Olga believes…"
"I don't care what you believe! I just don't want you to believe her. If you do, keep it to yourself. Don't bother telling me because I won't care. Do you understand?"
"Da," she whispered, nodding reluctantly.
"Good. Now excuse me, I have to go to work."
The day was long. I tried to focus, but the squabble from the morning kept echoing in my head. I decided I needed Bella to ease my heart, but she turned down my lunch invitation, claiming she was busy with work and visiting her parents in the evening.
As a supportive boyfriend, I swallowed my disappointment and had lunch alone at a restaurant near the office.
Frederick was in Boston for a seminar, so I didn't even have his company to distract me.
That evening, back at the estate, I called Bella.
She picked up on the second ring.
"Hello?" her voice sounded raspy, breathless.
"Hello? Did I call at the wrong time?" I asked.
"No, no...I was just in the shower. Just stepped out of the bathroom. What's up?"
"Nothing... I just wanted to hear your voice. How are your parents doing?"
"Oh! They're fine. I had dinner with them.
They're good," she said quickly.
"Hmm, okay," I said, sensing a slight tension in her voice but dismissing it.
"Anyway, I want us to go on a two-day getaway to Long Island this weekend. What do you say?"
"Can I take a raincheck? I might be called into work, even on the weekend. Since the promotion, my responsibilities have expanded, so..."
"I understand. We'll see if you're less busy then," I said, staring up at the ceiling of my dark bedroom.
I reached down, grabbing my cock through the fabric of my pajama pants.
"Yeah," she breathed.
"Hey...guess what I'm thinking about right now," I whispered into the phone.
"I don't know. Tell me."
"I'm thinking about you. I'm thinking about you so much that I have a massive boner," I hissed, my hand beginning to fondle my cock, stroking the length of it.
"Franklin," she giggled, her voice low and playful.
"Yes, Bell," I whispered again, my breathing becoming heavy as I increased the pace of my hand.
"Tell me something erotic. I want to imagine myself inside you. I want to imagine fucking you right now."
"Okay... well..." she trailed off, her voice describing the things she wanted to do to me.
I closed my eyes, picturing her body, her touch. My hand moved faster and faster, my hips jerking against the mattress.
Minutes later, a low groan escaped my throat as my thighs were covered in my cum.
I released a heavy breath, finally letting go of my cock.
I stayed there for a moment, catching my breath, before heading to the bathroom to wash off.
Even when she wasn't there, Bella knew exactly how to turn me on.
She was the perfect woman, and as I cleaned myself, I wished she was my wife instead of Octavia. I was a lucky bastard to have her in my life.