CHAPTER 13 - OCTAVIA

I remain silent for the rest of the trip. Usually, Tristan would be chatting away, refusing to shut up for any amount of time, but I think the heavy weight of what we’d be facing is too heavy even for him. Dominic isn’t much of a talker. He sits like he has a rod shoved up his ass in one of the chairs of the private jet, not even bothering to check if I have everything I need.

But, to be fair, with a jet this nice and a private hostess, I guess he assumes I’ll be well taken care of.

The plane isn’t large, but expensive enough to leave us some room. Two couches line the sides near the front, with tables and reclining chairs locked down near the back. A curtain separates the hostess’ area from the passenger part, a place that clearly has endless amounts of wine and beer, both of which we all order. Except Dominic, of course.

I finish off the beer, tossing it back without a care in the world. I suppose I shouldn’t show up tipsy, but then again, I can’t bring myself to really give a shi