Chapter 11: When the Douchebag Emerges, He Gets Unnecessarily Possessive

“Here you go,” Octavia said, tossing the envelope on top of Raemon’s desk. He was staring at the large computer monitors on the edge of the desk and didn’t look away.

“You actually managed to deliver on time. I’m amazed,” he said dryly.

Octavia collapsed into one of the chairs on the other side of his desk.

“It took way more running than I’m used to. I didn’t know it was possible to sweat so much,” Octavia said with a frown.

“Once again, you are sharing personal information I didn’t ask for,” Raemon said, still staring at his screen.

Octavia sighed. She lay sprawled in the chair and let her head hang back, staring at the geometric patterns on the ceiling.

“You could have warned me that Johan only speaks German. I would have…I don’t know, downloaded an app or something,” Octavia mentioned.

The only response was the sound of Raemon Kentworth’s mouse clicking.

She sat up and looked at her boss. From his expression, she might as well have not been there. His dark brows were furrowed in concentration as he stared at his monitors.

One hand cupped the computer mouse on the desk before him, the other lightly brushed over his bearded chin. Today he was wearing a gray suit with a light-gray shirt.

He had removed his jacket, which was then draped meticulously over the back of his chair. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to just below his elbows.

Octavia let her gaze travel over his well-toned forearms to his firm, broad, chest and finally up to his face. She mentally acknowledged that her boss was extremely good-looking.

Of course, she’d always known this. Sierra had drummed it into her head how sexy THE Raemon Kentworth was. His level of sexiness couldn’t compare to anyone else’s.

Except Lucas.

Octavia didn’t know where the thought came from, but there it was. She thought back to meeting him.

He was pretty sexy too. How strange that the two of them knew each other at some point in their lives.

Did attractive people just gravitate toward one another? Did they bond over mutual struggle of peeling off the hundreds of horny ladies throwing themselves at these demigods?

Octavia shook the thought away and stood.

“I suppose I’ll just go off and learn German,” she announced.

“That would be a good use of your time,” Raemon said, eyes glued to his screens.

“Can’t expect a handy luxury-real-estate translator to be around every time,” she said blithely, turning toward the door.

Only then did Raemon look up. “What does that mean?”

“The guy who translated for me. You know him actually, Lucas Marino,” Octavia said.

Raemon Kentworth’s face, already in its customary scowl, switched from a state of irritation to subdued rage. His eyes darkened and his face went rigid, save for the slight twitch of the muscle in his jaw.

“You met Lucas Marino?” Raemon said in an eerily calm voice.

“…Yes…,” Octavia answered slowly.

“You spoke to him?” Raemon asked.

“Um…briefly…”

For a few unnerving seconds, Raemon said nothing. He only stared at Octavia with that intense scowl. Finally, he said, “Never speak to him again.”

Octavia was silent. She expected him to then voice a “because…”, but none came.

She frowned. “Why?”

“Because I’m your boss. You do as I say.”

Octavia put her hands in her pockets. She knew the best thing to do would be to utter a simple, “okay,” and then leave.

Further questioning would not lead anywhere good. For some reason, though, she didn’t take her own advice.

“I do as you say at work. I don’t have to when I’m off the clock,” she said.

Though she didn’t think it possible, Raemon’s face became even more cold. He leaned back in his chair and settled his fiery eyes on his assistant.

“You do as I say no matter what, assistant. I forbid you to so much as breathe the same air as that man. Understood?” The chill in his voice was enough to freeze water on a hot July day.

“Okay, but why though?” Octavia said. “If you’re going to make these demands, the least you could do is explain your reasoning.”

Raemon Kentworth suddenly stood. He strode around his desk to where Octavia was and stood facing her. He was only inches away from her, his imposing frame towering over her.

She could feel the power that he exuded coming off him like electromagnetic energy.

His overwhelming presence was enough to make anyone cower, especially when combined with the expression he wore on his face just then.

Thankfully, Octavia had developed some kind of immunity to this effect he had on other people. It was the only benefit to being around him all day.

“What makes you think this is up for debate?” he said.

Octavia looked up into his eyes complacently. She folded her arms across her chest.

“Why shouldn’t it be?” she asked.

“I’ll not have that scheming bastard anywhere near anything of this company,” Raemon said.

Octavia threw her hands up in exasperation. “Jesus! His line of work is nowhere near what you do. And anyway, it’s not like I showed him the documents or anything. He just translated some stuff.

“I had to thank him. Wouldn’t even know who the guy I was supposed to meet was if not for him.”

“Maybe if you worked at being more competent at your job, you wouldn’t need his assistance,” Raemon said with a vicious edge to his voice.

This time Octavia’s face flushed with fury.

“Maybe if you’d give a little bit of information sometimes instead of expecting me to just magically figure out what the hell is going on, I wouldn’t NEED assistance!” she fired back.

Raemon’s response was one she hadn’t expected. He grabbed her by the arms, pulling her closer to him in the process. His face was possessed with fury, and he stared down at Octavia with a fiery gaze.

She could feel the strength of his body as he held her in an iron-shackle grip. She let out a little gasp in shock and stared up into Raemon Kentworth’s face.

When he spoke, his voice was low, husky but still marked with fury.

“Do not make me repeat myself again, assistant. You are never to go near that man.” He lowered his head, his voice now rasping into Octavia’s ear, its warmth tickling her skin.

“I said I don’t want anything of this company near him. Anything of mine near him. You work for me; you are mine. I own you.”

Before Octavia could open her mouth to deliver a cutting retort, the sound of the door opening interrupted them. Raemon’s hands quickly dropped, releasing Octavia from his hold.

But not before a wide-eyed Adelaide had seen her esteemed boss and his lowly assistant in a rather compromising position.

Adelaide remained poised by the door, one hand still on the handle. Her face was pale and still.

“Do you have something against knocking before you enter my office, Weston?” Raemon said icily.

“I…,” Adelaide began, “Uh…no, sir. Just—” She stopped, looked at Octavia, then back to her boss and stammered out, “I…I brought you the patent files you asked for.”

She held forward the hand that was not on the doorknob, in which she clasped a thick folder.

“Leave them,” Raemon said briefly, turning to go back around to his desk.

Adelaide walked forward in trepidation, placed the folder gingerly on his desk, and shot a quick, nervous glance at her boss.

He was in his chair but angled away from her, staring solemnly out the large window at the back wall.

“If there’s nothing else, Weston, you may go,” he said.

Adelaide almost tripped over herself bustling out of the room. Octavia watched her leave and started after her.

“Assistant,” Raemon’s voice called.

She stopped and turned back in the direction of his desk.

He did not turn his chair around as he spoke. “Don’t forget.”

Octavia was momentarily silent before sighing and starting for the door once more.

“You’re the boss,” she said through gritted teeth.