Page 12 of Sadist

5

THEO

Viral was an understatement. By evening the next day, Octavia Vanguard was headline news across TV and radio stations, and was trending solidly at number one on all social media platforms.

With a beer in hand and more than a little satisfaction, I had followed the rapid acceleration of her face across every platform and saw reports that Vanguard Technology had hired the UK’s largest PR firm, and they would surely soon be making a statement to the press.

Anonymous stories had popped up faster than they could be squashed by whoever Vanguard had scrubbing the platforms. Speculation over the mysterious abduction of his only daughter, and why it hadn’t already been announced by the Vanguard PR team, was rife.

“Ignore me now, William,” I murmured as I switched my screens off for the night and checked my watch. 1900hrs. I’d given Octavia plenty of time to stew in her little rage bubble after slipping in to leave her breakfast and lunch inside the cell door at 0400hrs, taking a moment to watch the sleeping woman.

She slept curled up in a small ball, blonde hair fanned out across the pillow as if she had been running her fingers through it before she slept. I had leaned against the doorframe for a good ten minutes, taking in the long expanse of bare leg that was crooked over the blanket, the curve of her arse visible where the long men’s T-shirt that was at least three sizes too big for her had ridden up.

The image of that long, bare expanse had burned into my mind, plaguing me throughout the day until I fled to my gym in exasperation, pushing myself until my ears rang and my head swam…And then took a freezing cold shower.

Did it help?

Absolutely fucking not.

I was a professional, and Octavia Vanguard’s god-damned thighs had me behaving like a horny teenager. Maybe it was the eight months of celibacy. Either way, it was less than ideal.

The distraction in question glared at me with open animosity from her seat at the small table as I swung her door open, taking in the fresh array of food decorating the cell.

“You know, at some point you are going to need to start eating the food I provide you,” I said coolly. “Hunger strikes are a little dramatic.”

“What time is it?” she asked, her voice a little hoarse. “I can’t…tell…in here.”

“1900hrs,” I replied.

“You said I could shower in the morning.”

I gestured to the splatters of soup. “Isaidgood behavior gets you a hot shower in the morning. You lasted all of a minute.”

She grunted, looking at her folded hands, but didn’t say anything. It was the first time I had seen her look anything other than ready to fight like a caged beast, and I really didn’t like how that made me feel.

In fact,fuck her. Guilt? Absolutely not. That was a disgusting emotion that could be thrown into the sun.

“Get up,” I said sharply, making her jump.

“I wo?—”

“I actually really don’t care what you do, or do not want to do right now, Octavia,” I cut in. “Get your petulant arse up. Move.”

That got me the glare I had been wanting, and she rose from her seat, looking slightly pale.

Had she really not eaten a thing since she had been here?

I did the math quickly. Four days here, one in transport. God knows what her self-care habits had been like before that, but judging from what I had seen, I highly doubted she was the type to prioritize them. The woman hadn’t seen a decent meal in nearly a week, and I was not about to have Erryn informed that I needed to call in a medic for the current—very viral—missing person sensation with subzero blood sugar levels.

She followed me out without further complaint, and I waved toward the shower area with a, “Go on then.”

I listened to the sound of her undressing and then adjusting the temperamental taps until she was satisfied, the soft sigh as she stepped under the water slightly distracting as I searched the neatly organized rows of tinned goods.

I was halfway through heating up a tin of mac and cheese that I was pretty sure had the nutritional benefits of flavored sawdust—but at least it was hot—when she finished, the telltale rattle of bottles as she purposely ruined my perfect organization, making my eye twitch. There was no way inhellI would let her see how badly that irked me. Or how the second she was back in her cell, I would be neatly returning them to their designated places again like a psychopath. I was self-aware enough to see it. Not that it helped me curb the urge to organize my life into neat little conforming pieces.

I didn’t bother looking up as her footsteps padded toward me, pouring the food onto two plastic plates before I turned to look at her.

“Sit,” I ordered, gesturing to the picnic table with my chin.

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