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𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑛𝑖𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑒 ᵇᵘᶰᶰʸ ⁺ ʲᵃᶜᵉ

Bunny

ˋˏ ༻𝑝𝑖𝑥𝑖𝑒 𝑑𝑢𝑠𝑡༺ ˎˊ-
Staff member
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Joined
Jan 8, 2020


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Defeat was never an easy thing to accept. It didn’t matter your age, social status or any other meter that one could measure by. In games, be it virtual or real, some people had learned to let it roll off their back. When it came to life though? Few had mastered it. Octavia was not one of them. Coming back to her own personal hell, tail between her legs. Had she any other choice. Any. With the threat of her own death looming and the fear of entangling any others with her. Her friends, from the life she made.. It was unthinkable.

She had become Mikhalia Demarr when she’d fled, leaving Octavia Monroe behind. In the six years she’d been gone, she’d been able to shed the trappings of the governor’s daughter. Socialite elite. Doll. She’d become a rebel and found a family in the club called Cabaret de Minuit. It was a burlesque club and the girls had become like sisters. Bartender and pool shark. She’d finally been free.

And then she’d met Derrick.

He was everything Alden had not been. Sweet. Kind. Loving. At least that's how it had seemed at first. Abuse never just happens. It is like a spider weaving a web. The first few strands are so faint, you can barely see them. Then, the next few are noticeable, but you question them. By the time you are tangled, it is hard to see where the strands began and the harder you struggle, the tighter the web becomes.

An unkind word. A flash of temper. Verbal abuse and finally physical.

Stuck within his web, Octavia had struggled at first to believe it. Promises that he’d get help. That same old song and dance. Sweet and vicious. By the time the melody of their dance became too much for her, there had been no way out. The threats that were made had her fearing for her life and for the life of any who might harbor her.

So Octavia did what she’d done before. She faded away in the night.

The cab rolled to a stop and she didn’t stir, or look up at the gate that enclosed her family’s seaside mansion. “Miss?” She jumped like she’d been struck. “We are here” The older man’s voice softened. The girl in his backseat had been through it. A split lip, a necklace of bruises around her neck and a cut along her cheek. “Thank you.” Her voice was hoarse and she tried to smile and hissed in pain as her lip split open anew.

One of the guards moved forward. Henry. One look was given to her before he moved to pay the driver. Sighing, her arms around herself, she watched as he fished her bags from the trunk and motioned to her to lead the way. Henry had been her jailor for a long time and would likely become so once more. He wasn’t cruel, but he was.. Effective at his job.

The mansion before had not changed. Six years and it could have been the day after she’d left. Manicured lawns. The pristine white gravel drive. It was all the same. Without the sound of the ocean crashing along the beach in the distance and the cry of the gulls, it might have been a mausoleum. A pretty, artificial tomb.

Inside, she heard her bags set down on the freshly waxed floors with a sharp click. “Wait here.” Sighing, she nodded her acceptance of the order and watched Henry’s back as he went to find her father. If he was her jailor, her father was her warden.

Theodore Monroe was a pillar of the community. A philanthropist. Kind, just and all american. Pity it was all lies. A varnish over the black heart and cruelty. Everything from the home in which she stood, to his wife or the suit he wore were all subterfuge. Even the disgraced daughter that was now coming crawling back.. She was his doll. To dress up and pimp out. Her father had never sold her sexually.. But he picked who she was friends with. Who she dated. What college she would attend. All of it. Her entire life had been set to the tune of his goals in life. Mayor. Senator. President.

Then Octavia had thrown a wrench in the whole shebang by running away in the night. Or so she’d thought at the time. Her father, though, had worked quickly. As far as the world knew, the demure, dutiful daughter was working to help teach poor disenfranchised children in some third world country. Oh, her father had been meticulous. She just hadn’t cared to remember where he claimed she was for the past six years.

Sharp heels pressed against the marble floors and she braced herself as her father came into view. Tall, stately and greying at his temples. She heard people thought he looked handsome. Alls he could see was the ice in his blue eyes. The man had a way of making her feel like a worm.. As he glared down his nose at her. “Back, I see?” His voice, cultured and refined, was laced with venom. “Real world too hard?” His eyes trailed to the colorful sleeve that decorated her arm and his lip curled. They then swept to the color in her dark hair. Naturally he skipped over the obvious abuse, as if it were not there. Oh he saw them, there was almost a satisfaction when he saw them. There was darkness in his gaze that chilled her to the bone.

“Your mother has asked you to be allowed to stay.” He didn’t want her there. Even where she’d run to, she knew of his current bid to become senator. “Go unpack. Later tonight, we will have a party to welcome you home from Sierra Leone.” Then he turned and left her to gape after him. It was like nothing had changed.

Picking up her bags,s he made her way to her room. It was just like she’d left it. The perfect daughter’s room. Pale pinks and cream. All for appearance. She hated this room. Dropping her suitcases with a thud she kicked off her shoes and crawled onto her bed.

She was back.

Six years and nothing had changed.

At least she wouldn’t see him.

Alden.

Her first.. Everything.

#a077b1
 


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Six years since he made the worst mistake of his life. Not a punch, or even an open hand. No, he had ruined everything because he shoved her. Alden could not even remember the reason why he had lost his temper. It hardly took anything, even if it had never happened with her. Then, she had looked at him like he was garbage. Alden Whitaker had thrown the love of his life to the ground and been ready to do worse. After that day, he decided he was done being trash.

Going home for the first time in years had been the first step. After everything Jacob Whitaker had done, he could be the one to provide the starting capital for this little self-improvement mission. That man had been the source of Alden's temper. He was no jailor or warden. He would have to care if his son lived or died for that. His mother had left a long time ago, bruised and bloodied, so Alden had been expected to take care of things. Once his father realized the boy was not going to be silent and obedient, he had taught him endless lessons with his fists. The day he turned eighteen, Alden had left and never come back. Until he needed to find a way to get Octavia back.

Of course, his father had laughed in his face. Despite being a demon in human skin, Jacob was successful enough to spare a few thousand for his son, and absolutely would never do so. Alden snapped just like he always did. At first, he had expected it to go the same as always. Then, he had found that Jacob was neither stronger nor faster. In the time he had been gone, he had stopped being a boy. No more broken bones and black eyes. The rush that came with this power was a drug he had never tried before and he found it intoxicating.

Stranding above the monster who had turned him into the same, Alden knew he should have stopped. Should have forced his father to hand over the money he needed and disappeared again. It was simply too tempting. Revenge just tasted too good. Officially, Jacob had fallen asleep smoking in his recliner. The messy house had turned into an inferno within minutes. And when the police called him the next morning, as his father's closest living relative, they were contacting him as the estranged son of a middle class businessman. It seemed that Alden had a knack for a certain kind of business.

Four years later, that knack had become talent, and when you had money, talent was a powerful weapon. Alden Whitaker, more specifically Whitaker Transport, had earned a reputation for brutality. When they negotiated contracts, acquired warehouses, or absorbed their competitors, there was no room for argument. The kind of men that were drawn to Alden were animals drawn to a powerful alpha. He was confident and efficient. So long as they stayed in his good graces, no one cared if he rewarded failure with pain. No one cared that anyone who got in his way suffered ten times the kind of punishment they could expect. Or, on occasion, simply disappeared. Lawyers, low level corporate management, the occasional cop or executive. None of them even registered as an obstacle for him, and he took care of things personally.

Most importantly, perhaps the only part of it that really mattered, he had developed a working relationship with Governor Monroe. Soon to be senator, if rumors were true. Alden was not a close friend of the family, not after what Octavia had told him. He could never trust himself not to strangle the man. Henry, however, was receptive when it came to the sizeable bonus he found in his account every month. Two years, he stood at the top and waited. Because, despite all his newfound success, Octavia had disappeared off the face of the earth. Private investigators, bounty hunters, even worse people than himself. None of them could find her because she had taken nothing with her but cash. The money he used to look for her was nothing to him, it was simply the means. Octavia was the end.

Alden sat behind his desk, arms crossed over his chest while Benjamin went over his meeting with the board of some no-name shit company that had been trying to force them into a bidding war over a contract. It was too petty for even Alden to get involved in directly, but Benjamin was doing a good job of dragging them through the dirt and teaching them who not to fuck with. Alden was a mountain of a man these days. He had never been small, but having the strength to back up his attitude had been vital. Just over six and a half feet tall, his suits were cut perfectly to give him an air of professionalism while showing off exactly how intimidating he was.

He was ready to tell Benjamin exactly how little this mattered, even if he was one of the few people he trusted, when his phone buzzed on the desk. A flick of his eyes was all it took for him to lean forward in his seat. Benjamin stopped speaking immediately, recognizing when there was blood in the water and Alden became nothing but a shark. With a moment of hesitation, Alden snapped up the phone and lifted it to his ear.

"She just showed up. Her mother insisted she stay." Alden realized he was not breathing when Henry paused on the other side, waiting for questions or instructions. After all, he was speaking to the man who had given him more money in two years than the Monroes had in decades. Alden let out a slow breath through his nose, then spoke. "Make sure I'm on the list for that party. Old Teddy won't think twice about it. He wants my donation."

That was it. Alden ended the call and dropped it phone onto the desk with a clatter of plastic on wood. Benjamin was standing still as a statue, more like a soldier than an employee. After Alden spent a good few minutes staring at his phone, Benjamin finally spoke up. "Sir?"

Alden's eyes flicked up to look at one of the few people he trusted. One of the few who knew there were protocols in place for if he needed to abandon ship for a few days, maybe weeks. "I'll be attending a party at Governor Monroe's home tonight. She just showed up out of nowhere. You know the plan. Enjoy being in charge, Ben." Never Ben to anyone else, his second-in-command smiled in a small and controlled way. The ones who did not fear Alden loved him for what he gave them, and gave him the loyalty he needed to not snap at every word they spoke. Alden stroked a thumb over his scarred knuckles, thinking back to the day he had started this. Benjamin was turning to leave, ready to step into his temporary role, when Alden spoke again.

"And have Rook call me. I need a program installed on my phone."


#a077b1
 


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A knock startled her from sleep and a soft groan left Octavia as she looked at the clock beside her bedside table. Almost six. Long shadows were stretching their fingers across her room and she pushed herself to sit as the door opened. “Miss.” The maid was unknown to her, not that was strange. Her family went through help frequently. It was hard to live up to the standards of her father. She ought to know. “Your father requested you wear this, and asked you to be down at eight sharp.” Not bothering to answer the woman, she nodded and rose from the bed. She needed a shower and a drink. Unfortunately, it seemed only a shower was in her immediate future.

Not back even a day and her father already had her life in his iron grasp. The dress, the party. All of it. He just needed to tug on her strings and Octavia danced for him. Her Long hair was left loose and fell around her shoulders in soft curls. Her makeup was heavier, due to the bruises she tried to hide, but not even makeup could erase all of it. The red dress was made for her, red satin and it clung to her breasts and narrow waist before slithering to the floor, pooling at her feet slightly.

The faces were all familiar. Business associates of her father’s. People of power, wealth or both. All stuck up, snobs. The lot of them. Women tittered over her appearance. They all acted concerned, but none really cared. Holding a glass of wine in her hand, she forced a smile on her face and greeted one of her father’s oldest friends. He’d always given her the creeps. His daughter was a simpering little twit and Octavia had always hated her. “It is so good to see you, Ashley.”

The words were a script. The tone autopilot and as brilliantly empty as the smile she gave them. The questions were the same. What happened? How was, where was it again? She was nothing more than a pretty doll and it disgusted her how easily she fell back into the role. If nothing else, she knew the price of failing her father.

Movement near the door drew her eyes and for a moment, the world froze. She’d know that face, anywhere. His eyes found her and she felt the breath in her leave. Her lips parted slightly. What was he doing here?

The only bright side was she was sure her father wouldn’t allow him in. Then again, she should have known better. Like it or not, she’d kept tabs on him. Had watched as he grew, becoming a force to be reckoned with.

It hadn’t just been her father she’d run from. It had been him too.

Alden..

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Six years since he saw her face. Alden had seen it a hundred times, a thousand times, in the pictures he still had. Whenever he was with a woman, it was Octavia who he was thinking of. Unhealthy, obsession, dangerous. Those were the words that people used to describe his fascination, the few who knew at least. Benjamin and a few of his closest friends, the ones who ran the twisting parts of his small empire. They told him it was going to bring ruin to them all, but they never said it with any real malice. Because they knew that Octavia was the reason any of them could live the life they did. All of his power and money belonged to her, just like the rest of him.

When Alden locked eyes with her, though, there was only one thought in his mind. She belonged to him. No one else. Not her father, not whatever pieces of shit had kept her company over the years, and definitely not the greasy fuck that was walking over to her with two glasses of wine in his hands. He was moving before he even realized it. He could not afford to run, to shove people out of the way. Not yet. So, greasy fuck got there first, offering the stemmed glass to his Via.

"Care for a drink, Ms. Monroe?" The man was looking her over with a glint in his eyes like a shark. Monroe was pushing for a senate seat and his daughter was back in town. Clearly, he smelled blood in the water. Of course, he barely even managed to hold the drink out before a shadow cast over him. There was a curious blink of his eyes, like someone had turned down the lights and no one had told him. So, he turned his head and the shark turned into a minnow as Alden Whitaker, reputation proceeding him, put a hand on greasy fuck's shoulder. "Leave. Now."

If greasy fuck had gone any faster, there would have been cartoon dust clouds flying from his shoes. Alden was, even without knowledge of his identity, a monster of a human being. The only people in the room who even approached his mass were security. Yet, for all of that, he was a somehow in his element. Six years ago, he had been a street punk with a shit job and the best girlfriend he could ask for. Now, he was none of those things. Silver, run with almost invisible stripes of gray, his suit was the kind of expensive that one could see in the shine of the fabric. It was tailored to fit him immaculately, close against his chest and trim down the sides so that he did not look like a box. The tie was black as starless night, with a small embroidery along one end, like waves, their waves. The collar was tight and high, hiding the tattoos that crept along his chest and up to his collarbone. There were a dozen scars from his life before Octavia left snd a dozen more from the time after, but most of them were hidden. The only thing that showed the true creature under the fine clothing were his hands. Knuckles and fingers a nest of crisscrossing scars, a pale silver line that stretched across the back of his and and was mirrored on the palm.

Yet, somehow, they looked just as comfortable holding the two glasses of wine he had confiscated from greasy fuck as they did wrapped around someone's throat. Alden had changed, and he breathed it out with every movement. Confident, strong, cunning. He had given up on being a stupid kid when Octavia left, and now he planned to win her back. Except, he could not give her the smile that he planned to. No, there was something dark in his eyes as he looked her over, took in what he could see and what the makeup clearly hid. He knew what violence looked like. The wine was shaking in the glass as he finally spoke to his Octavia after six years.

"Is the person who did that to you here, Via?"

There was one thing laced in those words. No matter who it was, if she pointed her finger, Alden was going to fucking kill them.


#a077b1
 


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The man before her offered Octavia a glass of wine and it took a lot of composure to not let her feelings show on her face. Between Alden and the man before her, his name escaping her.. A friend of her father’s to be sure. Not a friend, no, her father didn’t have friends. It didn’t matter. When the shadow spilled over them she knew without looking up who towered over them. Slowly her lashes rose and Octavia took him in. He wasn’t looking at her yet and for a moment, she was glad. The look in his eyes was cold enough to freeze.

Hand on his shoulder, Octavia could have sworn she saw him flinch. Then he was dismissed. The glasses were taken from him and she watched him scamper off before allowing her gaze to lift to Alden once more. The suit was expensive, she knew it by simply looking at it. Likely Italian, the pale grey fit him so perfectly. The tie held her attention longer though. Her mind slipping back to the sound of crashing waves, the moon their only light. Secrets, breathy moans.. Their beach knew them. A frown pulled at her lips as she finally allowed her eyes to meet his own.

They were paler than his suit, steely in color and to this day, they remained the most beautiful eyes she’d ever seen. Whatever he might have said, whatever was filling his features died and the look that took over took her breath away. She wasn’t that little girl anymore and she wasn’t going to allow anyone to scare her. Not even Alden.

Brow lifting she tilted her chin. “Does it matter, Alden?” She didn’t owe him an answer. Yet that tone in his voice. A soft purr that promised one thing in the end. Violence. Was he really like the rumors said? Had he changed? Her lips, painted red as her dress, pressed into a thin line. Violet eyes swept over his face before she turned to leave.

Alden had lost the right to know such things. To care for her. She owed him nothing. Octavia told herself this over and over, even as her heart ached. Via. He’d been the only one to call her that. His name for her. You hate him, remember? the little voice in her mind whispered.

#a077b1
 


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Alden sat that it took her a moment to pull herself together. Just a breath to adjust to the reality that he was here. Not in some little cove, sandwiched between blankets as they whispered how much they loved each other and gave away all their firsts like they were about to expire. Alden was in her father's home, at his parties. He had not slipped in through a window to sip beer with her after the party. He had been invited, a guest of major importance if you asked old man Monroe's campaign manager. Alden Whitaker had money now, but it was hard to consolidate the image she had from six years ago to now. He did not just have enough money for nice suits. He had "fuck you" money. The kind of money that made greasy fucks run away faster than his size did.

The answer she gave him only prompted a single reaction. A tick in the muscle of his jaw. Compared to six years ago, it was nothing. He might have raised his voice over a question like that. Looking back, he wondered what she saw in that kid, even before he made the biggest mistake of his life. Now, he learned how to focus the anger. It was never gone. No one but a highly qualified therapist and possibly a few medications would manage to make the anger become anything but an inferno. It just burned colder now and he had learned to point it in the right direction. Unfortunately, it also meant that he could only think about those bruises. The ones around her throat made him want to mirror them on someone else, keep squeezing until they turned purple. Then, he would snap their neck. And that was what he was thinking when she turned and walked away.

"Fuck." It was a whisper, too low for even Octavia to hear. He needed to stop. Needed to pull himself together. There was one person who he could put all this anger away for. So, he followed her as she walked, able to keep stride with one step to every three of hers. There was only one thing he needed tonight. He could strangle whoever did that to her later. "Yes, it matters, Via."

When she took a step, he followed. There were so many things he wanted to say to her, but she was intent on ignoring him if he tried and nothing he could say in front of other people would do a damned thing. However, he was not leaving her without something to show for it. And that meant he needed to be alone with Octavia. Needed to get his hands on her phone. So, he followed her, step in step, crowding her, but never touching. No, he would never do that without thinking. Not now.

When she passed by an alcove that led to a small side room, a smoking louge or some other fancy bullshit, he stepped in front of her. There was nowhere for her to go except to step back into that room, nothing but a couch, two chairs, and a coffee table. There was not even a door. But, it was away from others, far enough that he could speak with her. So, when she showed a moment of hesitation, he stepped forward and forced her to step back.

"It matters because I am never letting someone hurt you like that again. I know what I did, Via. I know that I made a mistake. And I've spent six years destroying the person who did that. So, tell me who hurt you and I'll fucking destroy them, too."


#a077b1
 


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He followed her like a puppy. Dogging each step she took as his low voice told her it did matter. She fought the urge to scoff at him. He’d been the first taste of the men she was drawn to. He’d never hit her, not like Derrick. Yet it was like he’d been the one to open that door. To show her what she seemed to deserve in life. That push, stumbling and falling into the sand. The anger in his face. Six years later and she could recall the fear she’d felt that day. Octavia only attracted men like him. Had she stayed, maybe he’d have been the first to hit her.

Ignoring him, she kept walking. Hoping he’d leave her alone. That her silence would be enough for her. She didn't have such luck however. He was before her. He crowded her and forced her to take a step back as he moved even closer. Herding her into the little room she looked up at him, anger in her beautiful face. She’d promised herself no one would ever touch her in anger again and she’d never be afraid of these men. Men like Derrick and Alden.

Laughing, the sound bitter she tilted her head. “I don’t belong to you, Alden. You lost that right long ago.” Her eyes narrowed and she let her gaze sweep over him. “Just like I am not telling you a damned thing.” Her chin lifted, a challenge of sorts. He’d not changed, he’d simply wrapped himself in prettier wrappings. Sighing she set her glass down and moved to slip past him. Perhaps she could feign illness and escape back to her room. Even as she thought it, she knew her father would be furious.

Octavia might have resigned herself to the damned party, but she’d not counted on Alden being here. Her father had hated Alden. Yet here he was, dressed to the nines. Had her father invited him as some sort of punishment? “Let me pass, Alden.”


#a077b1
 


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If she had asked Alden right then and there if he would have been the first man to hit her had she not left, he would have said yes. He had regretted pushing her immediately. Had felt a part of himself fracture when he saw the look on her face. But, he was still weak. Still used his anger like armor to keep anyone from hurting him. Eventually, he would have fucked up again. So, despite being the cause of the deepest ache in his heart, Alden never resented Octavia for leaving. It had been the right choice. And, when he finally had her cornered, though the room behind her left plenty of space to get away from him, be did not resent that bitter laugh either.

So, she was not going to tell him. That was fine. An issue for a different day. He was not going to be impulsive. No, Alden had spent most of the last six years trying to make sure he would not do something stupid when this moment came. He swallowed hard and took all that cold anger, placed it in a box to be used for later. Like a forge, he turned it into useful steel. Made it something that was not going to be pointed at Via ever again. He did not, however, move a muscle when she told him to. He would never hurt her again, not in anger. Letting her leave, though, was just as unlikely.

"I refuse to believe that you want to go out into this party again. I'm sure we both changed, but not that much." Alden raised a hand to her face, lifting her chin with a finger. There was something replacing that promise of violence that had been in his eyes. It would be unfair to call it lust. Yes, he had wanted her every day since they parted. Wanted to hear all those soft breaths and little moans all over again. A thumb found her bottom lip and he stroked it softly, not caring that her lipstick might smudge. The thing in his eyes could devour universes with the way he looked at Octavia.

"It might not matter, but I am sorry. I regret what I did to you, and I regret very little. I'm glad you left. But, we are both here now, Via. I'm not going to fuck this up again." Alden had thought about what he would say in this moment for two years. That was how long it has taken for him to decide he should took for her again. Long enough to be everything she could ever need in life. And hopefully long enough to be what she wanted. Yet, even now, it felt like it was impossible to find the right thing to say. So, he leaned forward, closing the distance but not invading her space completely. Octavia could shake him off without issue.

"I did things that most people would never consider, just so I could be someone who could give you what you need. I can make sure your father never bothers you again. He would probably be overjoyed to see you with me, considering how he drools over my money." The urge to kiss her was so overwhelming that Alden felt his fingers ached to pull her closer. "Just tell me, right now, that you don't miss what we had. That you want me to disappear. I can't promise I will be gone forever, but I'll leave you in this... what did you always call it? This gilded cage."


#a077b1
 


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His refusal to move was not surprising, not really. One finger slipped beneath her chin, forcing her gaze upwards. The violet of her eyes darkened with anger. “Them or you, I choose them.” Both a lie and not. Had he been her Alden, the boy she’d met on the beach, she would have stayed. More than willingly. He wasn’t that boy anymore, nor was she that girl. At least with the people out there, she knew what she was getting.

The brush of his thumb over her lower lip, the red lipstick staying in place, had Octavia’s heart ache so sweetly. A touch. Just one and her body wanted to collapse into him. Her heart, too, wanted it. It was her mind and the memory of the pain that had her stilling. “I am sure.” her lips brushed against his thumb. It was clear that she didn't believe him. People didn’t change. It was the greatest lie of all time. They never changed, they simply got better at hiding what they were.

Their bodies pressed closer as he leaned over, his face so close to her own. “Pretty words, like the suit you wear. Pretty, hollow, little words that in the end, mean nothing, Alden.” His next words had her eyes darkening and her nails bit into her palms as she glared up at him. The words were a lie, she knew it, but she'd not tell him, nor admit it outloud. Her shame. “I want nothing to do with you. I haven’t and still do not miss you.”

No waiver in her voice. No hint at the lie. The pain from her nails made it so she could lie so easily to his face. In part, it was true. She didn’t want him. No, Octavia wanted what she thought he’d been. In the end, his betrayal had hurt more than anything her father had ever done. More than Derrick's cruel words and crueler fists. He’d broken her heart and she’d never be so foolish as to offer it up again. No, Octavia had learned her lesson.

All of this she told herself. All of it she felt she meant. Then why did she yearn for him to kiss her. The answer was simple. Octavia was disgusted with the answer, but it changed nothing. She was weak. It was how she’d fallen for Derrick. How even now, after so long, she still craved Alden.



#a077b1
 


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Alden had a feeling the boy on the beach would not have faired any better. If anything, the boy she had left behind, angry and without goals or focus, would be dead by now. Beaten to death by his father for some imagined slight. The drive that Octavia gave him was just as important as she had been. So, he tried to ignore how much it hurt to have her tell him that the people in the party were preferable. The ones who treated her as a doll, a decoration. He knew it was a lie as soon as she said it.

The feeling of her lip against his thumb was enough to make him nearly let his eyes flutter shut. It was her. Really her. No matter what lies she fed him, he could shake it off, live with all of it. He just needed her. No one was going to stop that from happening. Not when he was so close to having her again. Luckily, he was not some stray rich kid trying to flirt for her attention. He knew her to the depths of her soul. It was not the look in her eyes that told him she was lying. She had learned to control that long before they met, for when she spoke to her father.

No, it was the hands that gave her away. The way she dug her nails into her palms to keep it from showing on her face. They were close, close enough that she would have pushed him away if she really wanted him gone. So, he lifted the glass of wine like a toast and the smile that lifted onto his lips was so much softer than anything else he had worn on his face for others. "I don't believe you, Via."

Alden closed that small gap to make their lips meet. It was a small kiss to start, but even that was enough to send his entire universe spinning on its axis. How was he supposed to be patient when she was in the same room. How was he meant to wait for her permission to touch her? The hand on her chin moved to the side of her neck, holding her close as he savored sharing this with her after so long. However, he had no intention of rushing, despite wanting it like air for a drowning man. So, he broke it a moment later, hand staying right where he had put it.

"I changed my entire life to be someone you needed in yours. Are you saying you never once wished it was different? Wished we had stayed together? You really want to be here?"


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Lying to him was a risk. No one had known her better. The boy on their beach had been told everything. Fears, interests and when they had become more, he had learned her body too. Six years might have been missing, but as much as Octavia tried to tell herself she changed.. She knew it for the lie it was. She had grown older, wasn’t a teenager anymore and yet as his mouth pressed to her she was sixteen again. It wasn’t desperate or hungry, but it still left her world reeling. His hand along the back of her neck held her to him for a moment and as he pulled back, her mouth followed him. A snake to his charm. Her cheeks flamed with anger and she pushed at his chest.

The space between them grew, but only a fraction. She stepped out of his grasp and moved further into the room, putting more distance between them. Via had wished that things had never changed, but it was a child's dream and something she could never have. A soft snort left her and she looked at his suit again, You know I never needed money. If you honestly think that is what I needed, you never really knew me, Alden.” Not once had she called him by the nickname she’d given him. Ollie. That boy was dead.

“Pipe dreams are not worth the effort. You taught me that first.” It was a low blow, but at seventeen, she had just wanted him. To run away from her family, his and just be together. It had been this that had made him angry. That she’d ended in the sand with him above her, furious. Crossing her arms under her breasts. “Besides, you clearly haven’t missed me.” She threw this in. A different woman on his arm for events. She’d not missed them. Not that she had been virginal either. He had no proof though, than her current appearance.

It was all subterfuge for her own damn body’s wants. She could still smell him. Sea, citrus and cedar. God, she’d missed his smell. His touch. She couldn’t avoid the scent of him, nor the memories it dragged from the depths of her mind. She could avoid his touch. “We had a thing once. We don’t anymore.” There was a finality to her words even as she wished his scent would fade from her own. Sweet pear, pink peony and the lingering sensuality of musk.

“So let me go play doll.” The sooner she fulfilled whatever quota her father had, the sooner she could escape.


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Even as she pushed his chest hard, he noticed how her mouth had followed his. That was her fatal mistake. Nothing she said mattered. He would do his chest to fix things, to make her happy. But, she also gave him an inch, showed that Octavia Monroe had not moved on from him either. So, when she spit venom in response to his honest question, it was Alden's turn to straighten and tower over her. He lifted the wine glass to his lips and swallowed it in one large gulp. It looked almost comical in his hand, compared to the size of him. He had always been big, but now he was a grown man. The smile on his lips, the sparkle in his eyes, showed that he had certainly managed to do something about that temper, if only for her.

"Well, not worrying about money was a stupid child's dream, too. It isn't the only thing that matters, Via, but it's a hell of a shield." Alden let his eyes roam over her now, look at her differently once more. He ignored the bruises as best he could, focused on how the dress hugged her like liquid and made her look drop dead gorgeous. They had changed, but Alden could not say he disliked Via like this. Maybe the money had changed him. He would have hated that dress when they parted. "And the women? What do you want me to say? That I hired escorts that reminded me of you? I'm sure that improves your opinion of me."

This time, when Alden moved closer, he reached out and found her shoulder. His hand was so big that his thumb stroked over her collarbone. His expression shifted a little more, there was a growing hunger there. Every time he had been with someone else, he had been thinking of her. Now, she was in front of him and the way she followed his mouth was all he shoulder think about. However, his hand was not rough, not threatening. Even as it tightened and he put another hand on her hip and the wine glass fell to the floor with a musical shatter, it was passion, not rage. "I'm done pretending. You want me to stop? Stop me."

Alden pulled her in at the same time he moved forward. This time, when he kissed her, it all consuming. He breathed in her sweet scent, the overwhelming Octavia-ness of it drawing the shuddering groan from him just as much as the kiss. The hand on her hip moved to her lower back and forced her to press closer, to mold her body against his own. When he finally felt her give in, Alden guided her backward. He was so distracted by tasting Octavia again, about how she let him slide his tongue along her bottom lip, how her own invited him in to deepen the kiss, that he was not sure if they would find wall or chair first.

When he got his answer and Octavia bumped into the wall, he lost patience with leaning down. Both hands found her ass immediately, gripping it tight and lifting her up until she was on eye level with him, standing to full height. Even if he had not propped her up, she would be almost two feet off the ground like this, but he was barely aware of her weight as he groaned into her mouth, pinned her with his body. When he finally broke the kiss, his voice was raw with emotion and his breathing was uneven.

"I missed you every fucking day, Via. And I might be a monster, but I'll never hurt you like they do. Never again."



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The height difference wouldn’t make her shrink beneath him, not even as he towered over her, looking down at her. The glass was drained in a single gulp and she settled into her denial. The look in his eyes though made her uneasy. She knew the man before her, before he’d become a man. That look was familiar to her. Like when he suggested they go skinny dipping in the ocean or sneak beer after a party much like this one. A snort left her, far from feminine or delicate. “Money matters yes, but it was never my concern.” She agreed. She’d not needed money to be happy while she’d be away. She’d lived in a small studio apartment and while it hadn’t been in a great location, she’d loved it. Loved her simple meals and hunting through thrift stores for her clothing. Octavia had enjoyed being poor. Only a spoiled rich kid could say something like that honestly. But she had.

The way his eyes raked over her, the hunger barely hidden made her body ache in response. He’d looked at her like that before. It had ended up with them tangled in blankets on the cool night sand. “I honestly don’t care, Alden.” Lie. It felt like a knife in her stomach the first time. Made her sick to her stomach to think he was falling for someone else. Shortly after that, she met Derrick. It hadn’t been Alden’s fault that she’d found him, no matter what she might tell him. Not that she deigned to tell him anything.

His hand along her shoulder had her body tensing and she glared up at him. The rough touch of his thumb along her skin. His hands hadn’t been rough before. The words were her only warning before his mouth claimed her. Her body was rigid, but it was impossible to fight against it. Oh, Octavia could have pushed at his chest, fought him. Problem was she didn’t want to. When his tongue brushed her lower lip, begging entrance, her lips parted and her hand curled around his tie, as if it was a safe harbor in the storm.

Slowly, her own body softened as he crowded closer to her. One hand on her hip as he pushed her backward. When her back hit the wall, she groaned into his mouth. His hands grabbed her ass and she was hoisted into the air, her feet dangling as he pressed between her thighs. Their tongues danced and Octavia moaned this time, a sweet little sound of surrender. His own groan echoed her. Both of their breaths ragged from the kiss.

Promises. She had trusted them once. Never again. It jarred her back to reality and she shoved at his chest, still breathless. “Put me down, Alden. I know what your promises are worth.” There was something beneath her icy demeanor. Tears of a broken heart. Shoving at his chest again, footsteps sounded close and Alden was forced to put her on her feet. Stalking past him she vanished into the party once more.

Octavia didn’t even notice that the man she swept was Henry. Nor that in his hand was her phone. Delivered to Alden directly. Swiping a glass of wine she downed it in four large sips, trying to erase his taste from her mouth.

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Everything about Via giving in was what Alden wanted. When she welcomed his tongue into his mouth, all the pain and suffering he had been through, along with all of it that he inflicted, was worth it. He felt that small hand gripping his tie and knew he was right to change himself. They were both broken people, but they fit together like jagged glass forming a puzzle. It had always been that way. So different on the surface, but they could find escape in one another. When their mouths separated and he made her that promise, though, it all fell apart.

When Octavia pushed at him, he lowered her without objection. She was done with him for now and he would accept that. However, when she moved around him, heard did let her leave without getting in his own words. "I made a mistake, but I didn't a promise. Or run away." There was real pain in his voice this time, though he kept his face even. That had been what forced him to change. Being left alone once more. Octavia was not going to leave him again. But, for now, she could not run away. He had time.

With a long sigh, he turned toward the door just in time to see Henry enter. The man was wearing a neat black suit and had his hands crossed in front of himself to obscure the phone as much as possible. It was half the reason Alden had come here. Octavia was not going to let six years of anger go away from one kiss. It had been incredible to taste her on his lips again, but she was going to need to see how terrible her gilded cage could be. So, he has to keep an eye on her.

Henry handed over the phone without a word, looking up at Alden without fear. Alden simply turned his back to Henry with a single command. "Watch the door. I only need a minute." Rook, the person who solved most of the tech related problems his organization met with, was a programmer at heart. When Alden had explained his needs, it took less than an hour for a zipped file to appear in his cloud folder. Now, it was a simple matter of getting that program onto the phone. So many automated parts meant that a phone has some severe weaknesses.

One was that a direct connection allowed almost anything to be passed along. All it took was a double ended usb-c cable and enough time to plug both Octavia's phone and his own together. The phones did the rest, copying over the only file in the emulated version that the program had set up. Just like that, Alden had access to almost anything he needed. Photos, videos, calls. He could turn on the camera or mic when he wanted, could even terminate a call if necessary. He had permanent eyes on Octavia and, unless she decided to go digging through folders on her phone, she would carry it along so long as she transferred her files to any new models.

Now that he had completed his real task, Alden unplugged Via's phone and handed it over to Henry again. The man would conveniently find it later in the night to return to Ocravia. Alden wanted to get the fuck out of here before he started to think about those bruises again, before he became a problem. The wine had barely even tickled him, a few more glasses required to get a buzz going. He wanted something stronger.

---

That was how Alden found himself at his desk in his office. He had politely excused himself when Monroe tried to talk to him about supporting the senate campaign, which consisted of Alden telling Teddy Monroe not to bother him and Monroe insisting he stay for a few drinks. It was almost funny to see how Octavia's father coveted his attention now that Alden had added a few more zeroes to his net worth.

Why he was in the office, Alden could not answer. All he knew was that he had three fingers of very expensive whisky in his glass and a bottle worth a small fortune resting on the desk. In front of him sat his phone, which Alden stared at like it was a bomb. He tipped the glass back and drained most of it in one go. Fine as it was, he still felt his eyes sting from the burn. Then, he unlocked his phone and opened the program that would get him into Via's phone.


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