Page 17 of Sadist

“Hello, Daddy Vanguard,” I murmured, leaning in closer.

I had seen his photoshopped, impeccable photos plastered all over billboards and news articles about him. But through the harsh cameras of the press, he looked far more human.

He had the same shade of blonde hair as his daughter, the same hazel eyes, and the same straight, slightly aquiline nose that should have looked harsh on Octavia, yet was a striking feature that made her beauty unique.

That was where the similarities ended, though. The rest of her features came from her mother. The delicate, watery-eyed woman stood next to William, her gaze flitting nervously over the crowd gathered in front of them, blinking at the flashinglights as the paparazzi descended on the press conference like the vultures they were.

“Timid little thing,” I murmured to myself as I arranged my pencils along the desk in perfectly straight lines. “Shedidn’t inherit that trait.”

“He’s been trying to turn the media for the last twenty minutes.” O’Malley’s voice snapped me out of my musing, and I clicked across to the other platform to see Octavia’s picture front and center. She was markedly younger than she was now, looking at the camera with a solemn expression on a large couch, her legs tucked up in front of her and arms wrapped tightly around them.

I grunted, sitting down as William stepped up to the small podium that had been set for him, and glanced down at the unfolded paper in his hands.

“Please,” he began, turning tired-looking eyes to the camera. “If my daughter can see this…I’m doing everything I can to get you back, Baby Girl.”

My lip curled as I grimaced in distaste.

“To those who have my daughter, just tell me what you want!” His voice cracked in a valiant display of emotion as he pulled a kerchief from his pocket and held it to his dry eyes for a moment.

“Send it,” I ordered O’Malley, leaning back in my chair with a smirk as William prattled on while his wife held up that same picture of Octavia.

Glancing at my watch, I kept a careful eye on the paparazzi, minutes ticking by, until one by one they glanced down, their attention drawn by something else.

“Gotcha,” I murmured, as one held their phone up, the screen visible even from this distance with the article I had put together myself, linking in the list of dropped lawsuits against Vanguard Technology.

“Mr. Vanguard!” one of the reporters called, elbowing his way to the front of the crowd. “Can you tell us about the lawsuits? Why so many cases against you have been lodged and dropped in the last three years? Do you think there could be a link to your missing daughter?”

More voices rose from the milling reporters, clamoring to get their questions in as a suit next to William stepped forward to speak into his ear. William moved back as the suit took his place, announcing the interview was over while William and his wife were ushered away from the stage and quickly engulfed by bodyguards and out of sight.

“Well, at least he is now aware of where we will take it,” I said to the quiet phone line.

O’Malley grunted, and I could hear typing in the background.

“Send another communication request through,” I said, turning off the coverage.

Another grunt.

“I’m going to need words, O’Malley,” I said, irritation rising. “A simple ‘yes okay’ is fine, but I do not communicate in neanderthal. And where is Zichen? I have something I need him to look into.”

O’Malley huffed softly down the line. “He’s busy.”

“Well then, tell him to make himself available,” I snapped. “This is the job, and if he can’t commit to it, I will have him replaced.”

“I don’t think you have the sway to get anyone replaced at the moment, Golden Girl,” O’Malley said. “It’s been noticed that you’re not Loxley’s pet no more, so pipe down. I’ll pass your message on, and Zichen will get back to you when he’s ready.”

Putting him on speaker, I set the phone down as the urge to hurl it into the nearest wall gripped me momentarily.

“You want to repeat that to my face later?” I asked acidly.

He let out a short bark of laughter and hung up, leaving me simmering in my anger.

I glanced at my watch. 0900hrs. Octavia would be well and truly awake and at risk of flinging things around. Stalking to the coffee machine, I turned it on and let the monotony of grinding and packing the coffee beans soothe my temper as the rich aroma filled the large room. I leaned against the counter, eyes closed, breathing it in and feeling the last of my annoyance ebb away. I almost missed the low buzz of the phone over the noise of the machine, smirking in satisfaction as I noticed the burner phone on my desk light up and vibrate across the surface.

I swiped the screen on the unknown number, crooking my shoulder to hold it against my ear as I carried on making the coffees.

“Hello, William,” I purred into the phone as it connected. “Someone has been a naughty boy, haven’t they?”

“What are your demands?” His tone was flat. None of the emotion that he had displayed so animatedly on the screen just minutes ago.

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