Chapter 11
~ Franklin ~
I intentionally chose not to pick Octavia up. It didn't feel right, and frankly, I didn't want to. While I was legally and strategically obligated to marry her, I wasn't about to play the part of the doting fiancé behind closed doors. I left that task to Walter, my driver.
I was out on the green with my grandfather, Frederick. The afternoon air was turning chilly as we moved across the sprawling private field he owned—a piece of the Flemington legacy I was destined to inherit. I glanced at my watch, wondering if Octavia had already arrived at the mansion.
Right on cue, my phone vibrated. It was Walter.
"She's at the mansion now, sir," he reported.
"Understood," I replied curtly and ended the call. I turned to my grandfather, who was currently positioning himself for a difficult putt. "Octavia is at the estate, Grandpa."
"Excellent," he murmured, though his expression soured when the ball caught the rim of the hole and spun away. "Then we are fully pushing through. The wedding is in a week."
"You don't have to keep reminding me," I said, rolling my eyes.
"I have to," he snapped, his voice firming up. "In case you've forgotten, this marriage is your only ticket to redemption. The Board of Directors is looking for any excuse to overthrow you. This wedding must happen."
Whenever Frederick Flemington spoke in that tone, there was no room for negotiation.
"If that scandalous news hadn't leaked, I wouldn't be wasting two years of my life with her," I sighed.
"You sound as if she's a terrible person," he countered, wiping his brow. "She isn't."
"I just..don't love her. She isn't what I want in a woman. My heart will always belong to Bella, and you know that."
My grandfather paused, leaning on his golf club. "If your heart belongs to her, why did it end? Why didn't your relationship with Miss Washington last?" He waited for an answer I didn't have.
"It's because that relationship was doomed, Franklin. She isn't in your life anymore. You need to get used to that."
I tightened my fist but said nothing, I never will, I said at the back of my mind.
"I need you to loosen up," he continued as we walked toward the clubhouse. "You need to be affectionate with Octavia. The Board needs to believe this love story, or they else they will think the engagement and marriage was all a charade and if that happens, we would be overthrown."
"Is that why you sent those flowers and that ridiculous note?" I asked, rubbing my temples.
He didn't even look surprised. "Oh, you found out? It was a necessary move. You weren't doing anything to convince the public, so I stepped in. I'm sure it created quite the stir at her workplace."
He gave me a widened smile—the kind that told me my warnings were useless. He would do it again in a heartbeat.
"Shouldn't you be at the mansion to welcome her?" he asked as we reached the VIP lounge.
"I've said enough, Grandpa. If I have to perform for the cameras, I will. But in private? No. I am not going home to 'welcome' her. That is off-limits."
My phone buzzed again. My heart skipped when I saw the caller ID: Bella.
"Um..I need to use the restroom," I lied, scurrying off before he could question me.
"Hello? Bella?" I answered, my voice instantly softening.
"Franklin," her sweet, melodic voice chirped. I had missed that sound more than I cared to admit. "Can we see each other?"
"Of course. Where are you? I'll come to you."
"I'm actually at your grandfather's clubhouse, by the poolside," she explained.
"What a coincidence. I'm here too. I'll meet you there." I lowered my voice, a desperate edge creeping in. "And Bella? I miss you."
There was a hesitant pause. "I miss you too," she whispered before hanging up.
I hurried to the pool area and found her lounging on a deckchair, looking effortless. The scent of her expensive perfume hit me immediately, bringing back a flood of memories. Our breakup had been messy — driven by her desire for an "open relationship" to test my loyalty. It was that very madness that had driven me to get drunk the night I met Octavia. I just wanted Bella back.
"Bell," I said softly, using my old pet name for her.
She looked up with a smirk.
"Hello, Franklin."
I sat beside her, aching to reach out.
"You always look incredible."
She leaned forward, her nose almost brushing mine. I closed my eyes, ready to disappear into her.
"I heard a rumor you were losing your lead on the back nine," she teased. "You look exhausted. Is domestic bliss with... what was her name? Octavia? Is she wearing you down?"
"I don't want to talk about her," I groaned. "It's you I want, Bell. It's driving me crazy."
"Then let it drive you crazy," she shrugged, playing with a lock of her hair.
"If you want to prove your loyalty, you have to stay the course."
"I'm done with the games. Just say the word and we can go back to how things were."
She reached out and stroked my cheek. I leaned into her touch like a starving man.
"Everything will never be 'normal' again, Franklin. You're marrying that whore, after all."
"It's a marriage of convenience," I insisted. "Nothing more."
"I bet you'll fuck her. I'm sure she'd like that," she bit her lip mockingly.
I stood up, grabbing her arm and pulling her into a secluded corner by the stone wall where the children's splashes drowned out our voices.
"You know you're the only woman I want. I'll never love her, and I certainly won't touch her."
I leaned in, kissing the column of her neck. I heard the faint moan I had hungered for. But she pulled away, panting.
"Not so fast, Mister," she smirked.
"How long, Bella? I'm losing my mind."
"Until I say it's over," she whispered into my ear, hugging me tightly, in a very intimate way, how I miss her touch, with just her touch alone, I had a boner.
"I'll see you at the presentation, Mr. Flemington."
She walked away, leaving me standing there with a tightening in my chest and a physical ache she had no intention of soothing.
I straightened my suit and headed back to the lounge. My grandfather was busy having a serious conversation with a friend, so I made my excuses and left.
By the time I returned to the estate, dusk had settled over the grounds. I walked upstairs, my footsteps echoing in the massive hallway. I paused outside the door to the guest wing—the room where Octavia was staying.
I didn't knock. I didn't enter. I didn't welcome her to her new home.
She deserved every bit of the coldness I intended to give her.
This was a prison for both of us, and I wanted her to feel every bar of the cage. I went to my own room, falling onto the bed with images of Bella dancing behind my eyelids.
As I drifted off, I prayed for a way back to the life I actually wanted—and a way out of the one I was about to start with Octavia.