Chapter 31: Work Conferences Are Officially the Most Dangerous Events You Could Attend

Octavia walked into Raemon’s office with her laptop in one hand. She saw he was on the phone and the hand he put up signaling her to wait, so she dropped into one of the chairs before his desk.

“Yes. Well, that could be a possibility,” Raemon was saying. “We’ll talk tomorrow. Good night.”

He set the phone down, then looked to Octavia.

“You called?” Octavia asked, leaning back in her chair.

“We need to go over the itinerary for the World Technology Summit,” Raemon said.

“Oh. That,” Octavia answered with a frown. “I thought Adelaide already sent you the itinerary. Tell me again why is it that I have to be there?”

“Because I’m going to be there, and you’re my assistant.”

“And you’re going to be there because…?”

Raemon sighed. “Octavia, this summit is a gathering of the most influential players in the technology field all over the world.”

“It’s not like you’re lacking customers.”

“No. But I make it a point to know what the competition is up to,” Raemon responded.

“God. I am not looking forward to all those boring speeches,” Octavia said.

“I’m giving a speech,” Raemon reminded her.

“Yours will be the exception I’m sure,” Octavia said, smiling.

“I don’t doubt it,” Raemon replied. “Have you looked through the itinerary?”

Adelaide had sent something to her that morning. Truthfully, Octavia hadn’t opened the email yet.

“Yup,” she said.

“Do you have any questions?”

“Nope.”

Raemon eyed her in silence. Then he shrugged and turned to the screens on his desk.

“Very well. You may go.”

Octavia stood and started for the door.

“I’ll see you tonight,” Raemon called.

She stopped just as she reached the door and turned around. “Tonight?” she repeated.

Raemon looked up at her. “Yes. Obviously.”

Octavia blinked. “For…what?”

“We fly out tonight,” Raemon said in a low, suspicious voice, “for the summit. Which is tomorrow.”

Octavia forced her blinking stare into one of recognition. “Oh yeah! Sure! I knew that. I was just…momentarily…confused.”

“Really?” Raemon said dryly.

“Of course, we fly out tonight. I totally knew that,” Octavia said, feigning an air of breeziness. “I read the itinerary after all.”

“Not to mention this trip has been on your calendar the past four weeks,” Raemon added.

“Um…I guess it has…”

“And you should arrive at the airport at what time?” Raemon prompted.

“Eight?” Octavia said.

“Seven.”

“Seven! That’s it. Seven p.m. on the dot.” She fidgeted. “Um…I gotta go.”

“Not to start packing, I hope?” Raemon asked, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

“No. Because I already did that,” Octavia said, pulling the door open.

“Remember. Seven p.m.” were the last words she heard from her boss as she exited his office.

She was sure to close the doors silently behind her and then force her body to walk at a leisurely pace till she reached her desk.

Once she did, she scrambled to her seat and frantically clicked the mouse, opening up her email.

“Shit!” she cursed under her breath. “We really do fly out tonight. And this damn thing lasts three whole days!”

She jumped up, grabbed her book bag and laptop, and flew out the door toward the lobby.

Roughly forty minutes later, a sweaty, panting Octavia burst through the front door of her apartment and bolted for her room.

She didn’t even stop to answer Sierra’s “What the hell?” from where Sierra lay stretched across the couch.

In Octavia’s room, unsurprisingly, Gracie was curled up on a chair with a handheld game console in her hands.

Octavia didn’t say anything to her as she tossed her things on her bed and started yanking the drawers of her dresser open then flinging clothes out of them.

Gracie looked up. “Where’s the fire?”

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!” Octavia hissed between pants, rummaging around in her drawers.

She whirled around to her closet and flung open the doors, snatched a small carry-on-sized suitcase from the top shelf, and tossed it onto her bed.

“Can you believe it?” Octavia said. “That whole technology something-or-other summit thing is tomorrow. And we’re flying out tonight.”

“Of course, it is,” Gracie said complacently.

Octavia spared a moment to shoot her friend a bewildered look. “What?! You knew?”

Gracie shrugged. “It happens the same time every year. All the tech magazines report on it when it does.”

“Damn you, Gracie. You could have warned me.”

“I thought you knew.”

“I sure as hell was supposed to. Somehow it skipped my mind,” Octavia grumbled, grabbing a handful of underwear and tossing them into the open suitcase.

“You do have a tendency to forget things you don’t want to think about,” Gracie said.

“Yeah, NO SHIT!” Octavia yanked a collared blouse off a hanger viciously. “What do people even wear to these things?”

“Clothes, I’d imagine,” Gracie remarked.

“Fuck you,” Octavia replied, searching the sea of clothes on her floor. “Where did I put those pants?”

“You’re going with your boss, right?” Gracie said.

“Uh-huh.”

“Anyone else?”

“I don’t think so. Have you seen the other side of this sock?”

Gracie merely glanced at the green-and-yellow striped sock Octavia was holding up, then turned her eyes back to the console.

“Are you sure about that?” Gracie asked.

“About what?”

“You. Him. Alone and sipping cocktails.”

“It’s a tech-summit-conference thingamabob. It’s not like we’ll be the only ones there. All it will be is old or super-nerdy dudes exchanging stories about what the best operating system is according to them.”

“You sure?”

“Of course, I’m sure. I’m only going there as his assistant.”

“Like you did for that charity gala.”

“Umm…yeah. Well, sort of. I mean no—” Octavia sighed and ran a tired hand through her already messy Afro. “I told you. All he’s doing is trying to neutralize a threat.”

Gracie shrugged. “Maybe. But that could change.”

“What do you mean?” Octavia asked darkly.

Gracie continued to punch the keys on her gaming console, and her eyes remained fixed on its screen.

“Maybe he is just trying to get you to feel something for him—just to keep his business safe. Maybe that was his original intention. What if it changes?”

“Changes to what?”

“I dunno,” Gracie said breezily, “maybe into something that involves actual feelings?”

“Highly unlikely,” Octavia said.

“Oh?”

“It is on my end, anyway,” Octavia said with resolution. “But even then I can’t see him feeling anything for…anyone, really.”

“I should hope so,” Gracie said. “The only thing worse than having a billionaire who hates you is the opposite.”

Octavia was silent, considering Gracie’s words. She caught sight of the screen on her watch and shrieked, “It’s six already! I have to be there at seven! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”

Somehow, she was sprinting out the door with her suitcase and book bag in tow at exactly 6:34. By another stroke of luck, her Uber pulled up in front of the airport drop-off spot at exactly 6:57.

It was only when she reached the security gates that she realized she didn’t have a ticket.

“Shit!” she spat. Was she supposed to get her ticket from Adelaide?

She searched the bustling crowd of travelers rolling along their own suitcases with neck pillows dangling from loops on backpacks. Maybe she’d spot Raemon nearby.

“Excuse me, ma’am? Are you Ms. Octavia Wilde?” a voice behind her asked.

Octavia whirled around to find a petite blonde-haired woman in a navy-blue pencil skirt and jacket, looking toward Octavia.

“Umm, yes,” Octavia said slowly.

The woman’s bright-red lips broke into a smile. “Please follow me.”

Octavia did not find the small, sparrowlike woman threatening, so she followed her around the TSA line to a hall leading away from the bustle of the airport crowds.

Eventually, they came to a separate section of the airport, a quiet lounge with a bar at the center and comfy seats arranged in clusters around the space.

At one of these seats, Octavia saw Raemon Kentworth with a laptop open before him.

“Mr. Kentworth asked me to show you here,” the woman said.

“Thanks,” Octavia said.

“We still have some time before takeoff. Make yourself comfortable,” the woman said, giving a final smile and then walking away.

Octavia was puzzled by her last comment, but she shrugged it off and walked to where Raemon sat.

“I made it.” She sighed, falling into one of the chairs near him.

“Surprisingly,” he said, eyes still on his screen.

Octavia bit her lip nervously, then said, “Confession: I completely forgot about this trip.”

“I suspected as much.”

“So…I don’t have my plane ticket or anything. Was I supposed to get it from Adelaide? I don’t know. I do have my passport, though, I remembered that much.”

“You won’t need either one.”

Octavia looked over to him questioningly. “I’m pretty sure I will at least need some identification.”

“No, you won’t,” Raemon repeated.

Octavia shrugged it off and looked around. “Man, I’m starved. You know what I could go for? Lasagna. Do you think they have lasagna here?”

As if her words had been a wish, a waiter in a red waistcoat suddenly came up to her side.

“Would you like to order something, Ms. Octavia?” he asked.

“Uh…sure…um…a Coke, I guess.”

“I thought you wanted lasagna?” Raemon asked.

The waiter jotted down something on the notepad in his hand. “One lasagna. Will that be with meat or meatless?”

“Seriously? You guys can do that here?” Octavia asked, astounded.

“Absolutely, whatever you want, Ms. Octavia.”

“That’s…great! Oh, but I probably shouldn’t eat a heavy meal before getting on a plane, right?”

“We have at least another hour till we fly out,” Raemon said.

Octavia’s eyes shot to his face. Her voice became very dark. “What?”

The waiter still stood with his pen in hand, waiting for instruction. “Will that be with meat, then, Ms. Octavia?”

Octavia turned back to him. “I—I guess so. Yes. Thank you.”

The waiter nodded, then slowly glanced toward Raemon.

“Will there be anything for you, Mr. Kentworth?” he asked.

“Another seltzer water will do, thanks,” Raemon said, holding up his empty glass. The waiter took it from him with slightly unsteady hands and then hurried off.

Octavia turned to Raemon.

“Did you say we leave in an hour?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“But I thought I had to be here at seven?”

“You were right the first time; it was really eight.”

“And you told me seven because—?”

“As a safety precaution. After all, you were informed of this trip a month in advance and look how that turned out.”

Octavia protested, “I made it on time.”

“Just barely. As usual,” Raemon said, shaking his head at his screen.

Octavia growled to herself but let it go. Once her lasagna dinner was delivered, she forgot everything about her lack of punctuality.

The dish was surprisingly good, and she’d always thought airport food was all crap.

Once the dishes were cleared and Raemon had had a cup of coffee, he stood, declaring it time to take off. Octavia followed him out of the lounge area they’d been in.

A man dressed in a uniform similar to the one the woman who’d shown Octavia to the lounge was wearing had already offered to take her luggage.

She followed Raemon through other passageways out of the lounge and into a quiet section of the airport.

There were no seats filled with sprawling, snoring, tourist-like people or desks with harrowed airline personnel calling out seat numbers through microphones.

There was just one desk at the end of the passageway with one non-harrowed-looking airline personnel, smiling broadly at the two of them as they approached.

“Good evening, Mr. Kentworth,” the woman said. “The plane is ready for you to board, if you’ll come right this way.”

Octavia glanced out of the windows lining the wall of the space they were in. She could see planes on the runway, getting ready for takeoff. The one closest to them was large and unmistakable.

The words Icarus in the branded font used on all company property was etched across the side of the plane.

“Holy fuck,” Octavia breathed. She turned to Raemon. “That’s what we’re going in?”

Raemon appeared amused by the shock on her face when he simply replied, “Yes.”

Octavia couldn’t help smiling as she looked back to the plane. “Wow. Just…wow.”

“Nothing special about it. It’s one of my smaller jets. But it will do the job,” Raemon said.

“I’ve never been on a private jet before,” Octavia said.

“Few people have,” Raemon said.

A shrewd look crossed her face. “So…technically, I could have got here whenever. After all, the plane leaves when you want it to leave.”

The corner of Raemon’s mouth tilted upward in a smirk. “Technically, you had to get here when I wanted you to. The plane doesn’t leave without me. It could definitely leave without you.”

Octavia’s response, one which she regretted the minute it was out of her mouth, was a saucy, “But you wouldn’t leave without me, would you?”

Raemon did not react to that comment. His eyes met hers and held her gaze for what seemed like an infinite moment. Octavia became aware of the quickening of her pulse and the coldness of her limbs.

Although she didn’t see anger in Raemon’s eyes, what she did see, or what she thought she was seeing, still made her nervous.

But by what she said, she’d spoken something into existence that had previously only been lurking beneath the surface.

And the moment before her, the reality that he and herself stood in, instead of rejecting the implication of her words, confirmed it.

“Ready to board, sir?” the airline attendant said in her chirpy voice, breaking through their silence.

Raemon turned to her, away from Octavia. He moved toward the opening that led to the passageway to the plane door.

Octavia released the breath she’d been holding in. She wiped her clammy palms against her jeans and exhaled slowly to calm herself. Suddenly the prospect of three days alone with him was taking on a sinister look.

~Fuck,~ she thought. ~Gracie might be right. Again.~