“I see.” Tears prickled my eyes as anger settled in my stomach. “How stupid of me. The Master of Trickery would never paint flaws.”

He stepped toward me. “You don’t have flaws, O. You never have.” The way his tone thickened with remorse made my anger falter.

“Don’t.” I held up my hand. “It’s fine. I knew when I applied for the job that I wasn’t perfect.”

He swallowed a groan. “Fuck.” Dragging hands through his hair, he bared his teeth at whatever had him cornered before breaking its hold and swooping toward me. His hands captured my cheeks, shaking and full of tenderness. “I promised myself I’d be as cruel as necessary to keep you away. That I’d hurt you all over again if that’s what it took. But...I’m too fucking weak. You’re perfect. You’ve always been perfect.”

His lips crashed onto mine, kissing me swift and true.

My mouth opened under his, shock and surprise making me totally his.

His taste was dark and distressing. His tongue violently claiming.

He kissed me as if this was all my fault—as if he blamed me for making his life ten times harder when I’d only tried to help.

His arms shuddered around me, clutching me close.

He kissed me until I was breathless from his pain. Only then did he let me go, drop his touch, and back away as if distance could somehow erase what he’d just done.

Clearing his throat, he balled his hands. “He knows you’re here now. You made him think there is an us.” His gaze caught mine in a fatal web. “You should never have seen what you did, but I can’t change that and now...” He stopped talking, his body stiffening to steel. “Now, everything is all fucked up and you can’t keep disobeying me. Be my canvas once more, have a reason to be here, accept my money and keep business our only reason for meeting, and then...” He stood taller as if facing an execution. “Walk away and never come back.”

I licked my lips where his taste still lingered. “Is that what you want? For me to never come back?”

He looked away; rage imprisoned in his gaze. “Yes.”

“Liar.”

“It’s what I need.”

I didn’t bother asking why.

There were only so many times I could ask an unanswerable question. Instead, I asked something I hadn’t verbalised, even to myself. A question that’d been haunting me. “Are you so determined to give me your money, because you think you owe me—”

“I do owe you.”

“Not for today, but for all the times I hid money in your backpack so you could get something to eat.”

His eyes snapped shut, his body quaked. He rubbed his mouth as his green eyes reopened with shame. “No. But by the end, I did owe you more than I could ever give you.”

“You owed me nothing. It was given with love. A gift.”

He flinched with ghosts of our past. We balanced on words—words that could heal the history between us and pave our future. But Gil rearranged his face from pained to impatient, and he was no longer the boy I was in love with but the body painter I couldn’t figure out. “Talking about the past won’t change anything. It’s over between us. It was over seven years ago. All I can offer you is money. Come back tomorrow and—”

“I can’t.” I cut him off. “I just agreed to work for another company. I start tomorrow.”

His face stayed carefully blank. “I can paint you in a few hours. Come by after work.”

The thought of being in his presence again so soon? The energy it would take to survive him? I honestly didn’t know if I had the strength.

I opened my mouth to push the commission back. To plead exhaustion and beg for time to put my pieces back together again. To be whole enough to help him, even when he was adamant he didn’t want such a thing.

But Gil stood frozen, a raincloud of torment overhead, a crack of lightning forking right through his chest. He smiled gravely, tasting my reluctance and hurting because of it.

He nodded. “It’s for the best. I won’t ask you again.” Stalking toward the exit, he murmured, “Please don’t come back here, Olin. I mean it.”

I followed him, waiting while he unlocked the door, and sucking in courage when he opened it.

Stepping over the threshold, I twisted to face him and raised my hand to cup his jaw.

He winced. His face was a torn mask, cold indifference slipping to reveal passionate concern.

“I’ll be your canvas, Gil.” Dropping my touch, I slid into the dusk. “I’ll help you in whatever way you need.”

He shuddered.

Looking back at him, imprinting him, I added softly, “See you tomorrow.”

OceanofPDF.com

OceanofPDF.com

Chapter Fourteen

______________________________

Olin

-The Present-

MY PHONE VIBRATED in my handbag.

I heard the vibration even as it tickled my foot beneath my desk where I’d tossed it. I did my best to ignore it. After all, this was my first day at my new job.

I hadn’t slept.

I couldn’t stop thinking about Gil.

But I’d made a commitment and did my best to be a model employee.

The first hour had been spent being dragged around the whole floor, smiling and nodding, knowing I would never remember the names of all the people Shannon—my new manager—introduced me to. She’d shown me the coffee break room, the balcony where smokers and vapers hung out, and the glass walled boxes where the bosses kept the cogs running.

Afterward, she sat me down in a bare cubicle that would become my home and showed me, with her sparkly pink pen, how to log into their servers, answer the phones, and what my job entailed.

I’d focused on her red lips and bouncy blonde hair. I’d jotted notes on her advice and mentally did my best to be present.

But Gil still lurked in the back of my mind.

I could never be free of him.

Only a few hours before I would see him again. A few more hours of calmness before my heart careened off my ribs and my insides tied themselves into knots.

I’d agreed to be his canvas for two reasons.

One, I would stand by my promise to be there for him.

Two, I couldn’t bear the thought of him painting another, laughing with another, letting down his walls with another.

Being happy with another.

I’d never really seen him happy.

Even at school when we’d been close, sadness always shadowed his happiness.

He’s in danger.

Until he’d solved his mysterious predicament, I doubted he would ever be happy, regardless of the company.

Stop thinking about him.

That was an impossibility.

My mind switched from worrying about him to worrying over the design he’d paint me with tonight.

What was the commission?

Who was the client?

He seemed in high demand. He could command untold riches if he wanted. So why did he still come across as the boy from a penniless beginning? A lonely man living in an empty warehouse that whispered of destitution instead of richness?

Stop it, O.

You’ll drive yourself insane.

I was already insane.

There was no other explanation for my going back to him or my tolerance of his behaviour. My head still ached from what he’d done. My body still flighty from the kidnapping attempt.

My work computer pinged, announcing a new email.

I sighed, clicking on it and reading the generic request for warranty terms and conditions of our product.

My fingers flew over the keyboard, typing a scripted response that Shannon had given me.

My phone buzzed again.

I forced myself to finish the email before bowing to pressure to check. I didn’t receive many messages these days. After cutting myself off from my friends and dance troupe, no one bothered to reach out. Even my parents never texted to tell me where in the world they were.