Chapter 153

~ Clinton ~

The silence stretched between us like a taut wire ready to snap. Annie stood there with her arms crossed tightly over her chest, eyes locked on mine, waiting for an explanation. I could see the suspicion already clouding her expression.

"She’s just my friend," I said finally, keeping my voice steady.

"Hmm...just your friend?" she repeated, tilting her head with clear disbelief.

"Yes. Our companies have a business partnership. That’s all."

"No," Annie said slowly, placing her hands on her hips. "I think it’s more than that."

I frowned, irritation prickling under my skin. "What do you mean?"

"She called you, and the way she asked for you... it sounded like you two were planning to meet up somewhere. Like it was personal."

My frown deepened. "There’s nothing going on between Octavia and me, okay? We’re just friends. You don’t have to drag this out, Annie."

She studied me for a long moment, her eyes searching my face. "Are you sure you’re just friends? Because I don’t know... I don’t—"

"Believe me? Is that what you were going to say?" I finished for her, my tone sharper than I intended.

She paused, lips pressed together, before speaking again. "You told me last night that there was no woman in your life. Didn’t you?"

"Yes, I said that. And it’s true—I don’t have a woman in my life."

"Then why does this feel like you’re lying to me?" Her voice cracked with quiet sadness.

"Because you’re letting negative thoughts fill your head," I replied, though the words tasted bitter even as I said them.

"I just want to be the only woman in your life, Clint," she whispered, vulnerability shining in her eyes.

The response slipped out before I could stop it. "Well, apparently you aren’t."

Annie’s face crumpled. "What?"

I sighed heavily, regret flooding through me instantly. I needed to tell her the truth—at least part of it. I couldn’t bring myself to admit that I was still in love with Octavia. That would destroy her completely.

"Why are you acting like we’re already in a committed relationship?" I asked, frustration and guilt mixing in my chest.

"Because I thought we were," she said softly, her voice trembling. "Didn’t we sleep together last night? Doesn’t that mean something?"

"Sleeping with you doesn’t automatically mean we’re in a fucking relationship, Annie!" The words burst out harsher than I meant them to. 𝘧𝘳𝘦ℯ𝓌𝘦𝒷𝘯𝑜𝑣𝘦𝓁.𝒸𝘰𝓂

The moment they left my mouth, I regretted them. Annie’s eyes widened in shock, pain flashing across her face like I had slapped her. The beautiful morning we had shared crumbled right in front of me.

"So... what we had was just a one-night stand?" she asked after a heavy silence, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I... I don’t know," I stuttered, feeling like an idiot.

"You know exactly what it was, Clint. You just don’t want to say it out loud." Tears welled up and spilled down her cheeks. Without another word, she brushed past me and headed straight for the bedroom.

Realizing how badly I had messed up, I hurried after her. "Annie, I’m sorry—"

She was already undressing, pulling on her own clothes with hurried, angry movements. "No, you’re not sorry, Clint. You meant every word. I was such a fool to think what we had was real. I actually believed you loved me... but I was wrong."

"No, I was wrong," I said quickly, reaching for her. "I shouldn’t have said those hurtful things. I—"

"Stop, Clint." She cut me off, grabbing her jacket and purse. Her shoulders were tense, her eyes red-rimmed. "Just stop."

I could see how deeply hurt she was, and it twisted something painful inside me.

"It’s obvious you don’t love me," she continued, her voice breaking. "I just... I don’t want to see you again."

She pushed past me and headed for the front door. I followed, desperation rising in my throat. "Annie, please. I’m sorry."

She paused at the threshold, tilting her head slightly as if gathering the last of her strength. Then she opened the door and walked out without looking back, leaving me standing there feeling utterly hollow and furious with myself for hurting someone who had only shown me kindness and affection.

Later that afternoon, I sat in my office, the weight of the morning still pressing heavily on my chest. I picked up my phone and dialed Franklin. He answered on the third ring, his voice sounding drained.

"Harrington."

"Flemington, hey... I just called to check on your grandfather. How is he?"

"He’s... still in a coma," Franklin replied, the words clearly difficult for him to say.

"Try to hold onto hope. He’ll wake up soon."

"I have hope," he said flatly.

"That’s good to hear." An uncomfortable silence stretched between us. Remembering the missed call from Octavia earlier— the one Annie had seen—I decided to ask. "How’s Octavia now? She must be awake by now."

"She’s..." Franklin hesitated. "She’s awake."

I furrowed my brows. "Okay. I was hoping I could come see her today."

"Now is not a good time to see her, Harrington," he said with a heavy sigh.

"Why not?"

"Like I said, now isn’t a good time."

"Okay..." I replied slowly, sensing the wall he was putting up. "Any luck finding that asshole secretary of yours?"

"Not yet." His tone grew colder. "Listen, I’ve got to go."

Before I could say anything more, the line went dead. Franklin clearly wasn’t in the right headspace. His grandfather’s condition was weighing on him heavily, and that was completely understandable.

I set the phone down and stared at Octavia’s name in the call log, my thumb hovering over the screen. Part of me desperately wanted to hear her voice, to know how she was doing now that she was awake from the propofol effect. But after the disaster with Annie, I couldn’t bring myself to call. Not yet.

Instead, I leaned back in my chair, staring at the ceiling as thoughts of Annie flooded my mind. I had fucked up. Badly.

Guilt gnawed at me until I couldn’t take it anymore. I grabbed my phone again and dialed her number. It rang... and rang... but she didn’t pick up. I tried six more times with the same result. Each unanswered call sent me straight to her cheerful voicemail.

"Hey, this is Annie. Leave a message after the beep."

The sound of her bright voice made my stomach twist. After the tone, I spoke quickly, my words clumsy with remorse.

"Hey Annie...I was calling to apologize. I don’t know what came over me this morning. Can you please call me back? I’m really sorry."

I ended the message and sent it, then dropped the phone on my desk. Now I was left wondering how I was going to face her, how I could possibly make this right. I had hurt her deeply, all because I couldn’t sort out my own tangled feelings.

With a long, frustrated sigh, I stared up at the ceiling, already mentally rehearsing better apologies—ones that might actually stand a chance of fixing the mess I had created.