Page 10 of Painted Truths

“Always said that was the weirdest fucking thing I’ve ever heard, Henry. You’re one strange tosser!”

I kick Cade’s shin under the table at his interjection, earning me a howl.

Prick.

Kissing is an intimacy I don’t do, and the boys know it. I’ve kissed one person in my life, one goddamn time, and she ruined the closeness of the act for me. But this girl. There’s something about her that makes me almost… feel. Something I gave up doing a long damn time ago.

Ignoring our side banter, Nate goes on. “So, zero kissing and only ever fuck and dump. What gives?”

Nate and I grew up in similar environments. Absentee father, dead mother, no siblings to speak of—my long-lasting estrangement with Alex doesn’t even come into the equation.

The one difference between Nathaniel Hawthorne and me is that while my mum had died when I was young, younger even than Nate had been when his had passed, I could still remember my mum’s passion for true love.

I could still remember the love she and my father had shared with one another. And with me. Theirs was an epic love, an unforgettable love, a once-in-a-lifetime love.

I still relive her words regularly, as though she had spoken them only yesterday, her voice soft and melodic. Her eyes dreamily remembering her own great love as she stroked my messy, dark hair from my forehead while we lay wrapped up in each other on her bed during one of her final days.

“Henry, my darling boy. If there’s one lesson I can teach you before I leave this world, let it be this: when your heart finds its other half, you will just know. You mark my words; when you meet your true love, you’ll fall hard, and you’ll fall fast. And when you know, you know.”

And fuck me if I hadn’t already fallen halfway down that rabbit hole.

CHAPTER FOUR

Olivia

I can feel Henry McHottie’s eyes following me, or more accurately, my swaying bottom, as I stride towards the Powder Room. And of course, that devilish little Jo on my shoulder tells me to keep up with that little bit of sass, so I add a little extra undulation to my hips, just for him.

Entering the luxurious space for the first time, having heard about it from my friends, I knew I would be blown away as I had been with the rest of the club’s interior, but seriously... Wow!

There are several groups of drop-dead gorgeous women chatting and giggling while fixing their makeup or fluffing their hair at the numerous golden, individually spot lit mirrors, each with their own high-backed velvet armchairs. The colour scheme is black and gold with accents of a beautiful deep purple splashed here and there for contrast, and there’s a giant purple velvet pouffe dead centre of the space where some girls appear to be sharing some lines of white powder off the back of a hand mirror.

All eyes land on me as I enter, yet they return to what they had been doing previously, just as rapidly. Being able to melt into the background has always been easy with the lifestyle I’ve been raised in, but tonight, I’m craving to be seen in this whole new world. And I think that is what pulls me toward Henry. The way he makes me feel seen, genuinely seen for the first time in my whole entire life.

Moving to an empty cubicle, I close the lid and take a moment just to sit and think. I don’t have to pee or anything. I just need to take a minute to make a choice. Go upstairs with the handsome virtual stranger or go back to my old life of being the perpetual good girl and hating it inside.

Don’t pretend you don’t know what he wants. You’re not that naïve.

Furrowing my brow in contemplation, suddenly, the silence in the Powder Room permeates my thoughts. I rise to stand inside the cubicle, then strain my ears to hear if there’s anyone left out there.

Suddenly there’s a bang. It sounds like the door to the Room has been opened and someone’s coming inside.

“Leave.”

One word. That’s all it takes for me to instantly recognise the owner of that deep, goosebump-inducing voice.

“Oops, sorry,” is followed by giggles and another bang as the door slams behind the newcomer, leaving me alone with the owner of the deepest, huskiest voice I’ve ever heard.

A voice that makes me clench my thighs together in a desperate attempt to create friction to alleviate the desire pumping through my veins.

I may be devout by force, but I’m blatantly not by nature.

“Come on out here, my sweet Peaches. You’ve been gone far too long.”

I can’t hold back the giggle that erupts out of me at his nickname as I unlock the cubicle door and find Henry standing in the centre of the room just by the pouffe with his legs braced apart and his arms crossed, the very epitome of power and strength.

His boyishly messy hair belies his age, which I would place around mid-twenties or so, and once again, it’s falling into his eyes.

“You really should invest in a haircut.”