Chapter 62

Octavia jolted upright, awakened by the sound of the doorbell. In her dazed state, she stared around her living room, trying to remember how it was she’d fallen asleep on her couch.

She spotted the laptop in front of her and a quick scan of the open browser brought the memories back.

She and Gracie had stayed up late the previous night, combing through different websites.

Her accounts on social media or every shopping site Octavia had ever accessed, all of that and more, had undergone a rigorous privacy check.

Just as she had known, all her information was secure. To be safe, she deleted a few accounts and changed the security settings on all the others.

The only results from an ‘Octavia Wilde’ internet search was the current circulating article and movie posters for ~The Picture of Dorian Gray~.

As she wiped a trail of dried saliva from the corner of her mouth, Octavia stood, letting the blanket that was wrapped around her body fall to the floor. She was still wearing her clothes from the day before.

The place was littered with half-eaten and empty bags of chips, a box that had been filled with doughnuts, and empty energy drink cans. She could also hear someone rummaging around in the kitchen.

“Gracie?” Octavia called.

“Yup,” Gracie answered from the kitchen. “Hey, where do you guys keep the coffee?

“Top left cabinet.”

“Cool. Speak now if you want some.”

“I’ll take mine black,” she replied. “And did you order something?”

“Nope.”

Octavia frowned, then turned in the direction of the bedrooms. “Sierra, are you expecting someone?”

A muffled shout from behind Sierra’s shut door shot back, “I’m fucking asleep! No, I didn’t order something!”

Octavia shrugged and gingerly made her way across the room, stepping over an empty can and a bag of tortilla chips in her path.

By the time Octavia got to the door and opened it, her visitor had exchanged his wooden face for a scowl of annoyance.

“How long does it take someone to answer a door?” Raemon said curtly.

Octavia blinked at the sight of him but then sighed and stepped aside for him to come in.

“Good morning, sunshine,” she said as he walked by her.

Raemon glanced around her apartment briefly before settling his stormy eyes on her.

“I meant what I said yesterday, you can’t stay here anymore.”

“I meant what I said too,” Octavia replied. She crossed her arms over her chest. “As you can see, no one found this place. And I’ll bet your cybersecurity guys couldn’t find anything on me either.”

From the clenching of his jaw and subsequent silence, Octavia surmised the answer to her question.

“Ha.” She gave him a smug smile. “See? I’m really good.”

“Fine. Maybe you’re able to escape online detection,” Raemon said.

“But how long will that keep you hidden? Sooner or later, someone is going to spot you leaving the office, and all they’ll have to do is follow you back here.”

Octavia shrugged. “I’ll wear a disguise or something. I’ve always wanted to know what I’d look like as a redhead.”

“Octavia, I’m serious,” Raemon said, “you need to move somewhere else. You don’t even have to stay at my place. I’ll get you some other place. It can be an apartment—just like this one.”

Octavia raised an eyebrow. “Really? Just like this one?”

“Well…not exactly like this one,” Raemon said, “a little bigger. A little”—he paused and glanced around—“cleaner. And somewhere with more security, where not just anyone can walk up to the door and break in.”

“Hey, this place is safe,” Octavia said. “It’s been like three whole weeks since the last break-in.”

Raemon’s face only became more grim.

“I was just joking,” Octavia said.

“That isn’t funny.”

“I thought it was,” Octavia retorted. She sighed. “As nice as your offer is, I can’t just leave.”

“Why not?”

“Well…I still have months left on my lease,” Octavia said.

“Then let them run out with you living somewhere else. I’m going to pay for this, you won’t need to finance anything,” Raemon insisted.

“I’ll even pay to get you out of your lease if that’s such a big concern.”

“But…I couldn’t just leave my housemate,” Octavia continued, struggling to find more reasons. “We took on the lease together, how could I just abandon her?”

She shook her head sadly. “She’d be heartbroken.”

From behind Sierra’s closed door, a mocking snort was heard.

Raemon glanced to Sierra’s door, frowned, but then turned back to Octavia.

“Fine. She can move with you as well. Both of you—new apartment. No cost,” Raemon said.

Another sound came from Sierra’s room, but this one was an excited shriek.

Octavia grimaced. “But…but—”

“But what?”

“Give me a second to think of an excuse, okay?”

“Just say yes!” Sierra’s voice clearly shouted.

Again, Raemon glanced in the direction of Sierra’s door but made no comment. He stepped toward Octavia and placed his arms around her shoulders.

“Octavia,” he started, staring into her eyes, “I don’t want to worry about you. And I don’t want anyone to try to do something to you either.

“What’s happened with this news article—it’s my fault. Let me try to make it up to you.”

Octavia stared up into his face with an obstinate tilt to her chin. “I can handle this myself.”

“I know you can,” Raemon said gently, “but you shouldn’t have to. It’s because of me your name got in the papers. At least let me make sure you’re safe. That you’re away from it all.”

Octavia stared into his eyes obstinately for a while longer, but then she eventually sighed. “Okay, fine.”

Raemon’s shoulders sank as a small sigh of relief escaped his body. “I’ll have movers here by the afternoon.”

“Damn. That soon?”

“The sooner the better.”

“But I haven’t packed anything.”

“Don’t worry about it. They’ll take care of that.”

“Really? Everything?” Octavia asked.

Raemon pulled his phone from his pocket and tapped the screen. “All you have to do is show up at your new place tonight. Everything you own will be there.”

“Must be some really amazing moving company you’re hiring,” Octavia remarked. “Do they do laundry too? I’ve got a whole bunch of dirty clothes just lying on the floor of my room.”

“I’m sure they’ll be able to accommodate you,” Raemon said dryly.

“Don’t judge,” Octavia said, “it’s a lot harder to get laundry done when you have to go down three flights of stairs and across the street to the laundromat.”

“Good thing you’ll now have in-house laundry facilities. And a housekeeper.”

“Ooh! Like Mrs. Santos?” Octavia grinned. “Mrs. Santos is the best—have I ever told you that? Well, I’m telling you now. The woman is a miracle worker. They should make her president.”

“I’m sure she’ll be pleased to know she has your vote.”