Page 124 of Painted Truths

“How did you realise who I am?”

Having loosened it sufficiently before Lauren’s attack, Mila has managed to push the gag from her mouth, surprising me in my musings.

I can’t help the small, wistful smile that graces my lips. “You share the same eyes.”

“We do. Dad had the same ones. Mum’s are whiskey coloured, and she always tried to claim the golden flecks in mine were her contribution.”

She laughs softly, but her words have begun turning cogs in my brain as I try frantically to connect the dots. “Mila, is your mother called Charlotte?”

Her laughter cuts off abruptly as she swings her shocked gaze to meet my own. “Yes, though she goes by Lottie. Dad used to call her that.”

Shit. If Lauren DeMarco thinks I’m the one who took her husband away, I don’t see any way out of this. And by default, Mila is facing the firing squad.

Our eyes widen in sync when heavy footsteps come down the corridor, both of us visibly jumping when Samuel throws the door open with such force that it bounces off the dresser beside it.

“I’m back.”

He moves around behind me, running his hand down the front of my hoodie, plastering his palm to my breasts and groaning upon finding them braless.

“You came prepared, dearest Olivia. I knew you could feel it too. You don’t have to hide your feelings anymore. We can be together now.”

Despite the ice-cold fear that snakes down my spine, I take a defiant stance. Having never been touched intimately by anyone but Henry, his proprietary words and actions give rise to repulsed anger.

How dare he!

I jut my chin out, narrow my eyes into slits, and allow pure hatred to fill my body as my jaw ticks so tightly it hurts.

“You. Are. Fucking. Crazy.”

Resting his hands lightly on either shoulder, he squeezes softly.

“About you? Yes, dearest. I am.” His words are softly spoken, almost caressingly, as his next statement makes the fine hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention.

“I’ve watched you for a long time, Olivia. From when we first met at St. Fintan’s, although I look a lot better these days. Homelessness and drug addiction are hard to come back from, you know.”

He winds a finger around my long blonde hair, tugging firmly until I meet his gaze, rapt upon my face with the adoration of a would-be lover, yet sending a ripple of icy cold fear through my veins like nothing I’ve ever felt before.

If I’ve given away any physical display of my fear, he’s either not noticed or he doesn’t care as he runs his free hand from my temple to my mouth. While absentmindedly rubbing his forefinger over and back across my trembling bottom lip, Samuel continues as though bewitched by his own revelations.

“Still, with the help of my golden goose sponsor from the shelter, the drug and drink addled Lauren DeMarco, I was able to get clean and move in here with her. All while bleeding her dry of every last penny, feeding her delusions, encouraging her paranoia, biding my time until me and you could finally be together. I’ve been patient, taking care of you from the side-lines. Setting that fire to free you from your parents—”

I cut him off with a sharp gasp before he moves in front of me and continues with an immoral smile on his lips. “I had no choice, my dearest one. They were stifling you. Dulling your sparkle, that light in your soul that makes you so unusual, so intoxicating. That sets you alone, apart from all others. Taking their lives demonstrated my endless love for you, don’t you see?”

Regardless of the nausea swirling in the depths of my stomach, I nod, knowing that if I try to speak right now, I will, without a doubt, throw up.

“Driving you to work, collecting you, being there when you needed me—not to mention, supplying the apartment.”

Wrinkling my forehead, the cogs begin to twist in my mind, and the reason it had never made sense hits me like a bolt from the blue.

“You own my apartment?”

He shrugs his shoulders. “Well, technically, Lauren owns it, as the paperwork all leads back to her. You were so much easier to get to when you moved away from your friends, not that I didn’t spend time with you at any given opportunity.” He sighs as he obviously remembers something, and his following words have my stomach bottoming out, threatening to eject what little contents within.

“I’ve lost count of the nights I’ve watched you sleep.”

Closing my eyes, I swallow hard, pushing the tears that threaten behind my lids back down. Forcing myself to not break.

“Of the night I embraced you while you slept so fitfully.”