The Finished Masterpiece (Master of Trickery Book 3)

by Pepper Winters

  Twisting a little, my eyes widened in amazement as I studied a glowing crystal ball depicting a scene of a shipwreck with glittery rhinestones on my hip. Flowing over my shoulder was a perfect waterfall. It puddled in my collarbone before spilling free with blue glitter and silver thread, as lifelike and as wet as any liquid down my arm.

  It was magic—pure and simple.

  The commission must’ve been for an aquarium or travel advertisement or something that inspired nature and adventure.

  It inspired me.

  I felt like I could swim underwater and summon all manner of wildlife.

  I felt royal.

  The photos he’d taken would no doubt be sent to whoever requested this piece, and somewhere out there, in some busy shopping complex or some glossy magazine, people would stare at my naked body and not see a woman but an entire underwater kingdom with me as its ruler.

  I’d thought he didn’t see me as a person.

  I was wrong.

  He’d seen past that simple illusion and shown me that even my own perception was too narrow.

  Wearing his paint made me stand taller, act prouder, move smoother. I posed as if I wore an expensive gown, custom made and agonisingly tailored to perfection.

  I wasn’t human.

  No way.

  I was more.

  So, so much more.

  And for the first time in a very, very long time...I was happy.

  Chapter Seven

  ______________________________

  Olin

  -The Present-

  “HERE’S YOUR CASH.”

  I dragged fingers through my damp hair, slightly tangled from towel drying and not having a brush. “Thanks.” I moved toward him, hoisting my bag up my shoulder. My clothes were back in place, and my skin returned to bland—vacant of rhinestones and illusions.

  I gingerly reached for the envelope enclosing money that would buy me a few more days of roof and walls. “Appreciate it.”

  He grunted something and turned away. Just like me, he was clean from any paint, apart from a single streak of navy on his jawline.

  My stomach did a little flip.

  Stop it, O.

  Just stop it.

  He looked up as I shoved the envelope a little too firmly into my bag.

  “Don’t you want to count it?”

  I shook my head, unable to hold his gaze. “It’s fine.”

  “You don’t even know the going rate.”

  “No, but I trust you.”

  “You really shouldn’t.”

  I smiled softly, keeping my eyes on the concrete floor and begging my cheeks not to flame.

  I shouldn’t trust him?

  He shouldn’t trust me.

  I’d done something in that bathroom. In the twenty minutes it’d taken me to shower, I’d dabbled in a fantasy that had seemed too real. I’d pretended Gil kissed me that night in my house. I envisioned years of togetherness instead of distance.

  And now, I was ashamed because I’d been tempted to deal with the coursing desire he’d left me with by delivering an orgasm by my own hand in his shower.

  I hadn’t.

  Of course, I hadn’t.

  But the urge had been almost undeniable.

  Standing in front of that mirror, total awe had shoved aside my wariness and twisted my feelings into something I daren’t contemplate.

  I didn’t have a name for the surging complexity of emotions.

  Pain.

  Hope.

  Forgiveness.

  I doubted I ever would. But I could admit that I admired him. Greatly. And any wariness and hurt were now shadowed by utmost appreciation.

  And a fair amount of regret.

  Regret for the past. Regret for not trying to find him when he disappeared.

  “You’re incredibly talented, Gil,” I murmured, finally mustering the courage to look at him.

  He seemed to have aged since I’d left him to shower. Exhausted smudges under his eyes. His five o’ clock shadow making him angular and unforgiving. “Just lines and fading.”

  “It’s a lot more than that, and you know it.”

  He looked away, moving to lean against his mixing table as if he needed the support. His body language blocked off conversation as bluntly as possible. “At least the commission is done.”

  “So you don’t need me to come back?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “I don’t.”

  I forced a smile again. “I understand.”

  He narrowed his eyes, glaring directly into me. “You need to leave now, Olin.”

  I glanced at the exit, then back to him.

  I could leave.

  I should leave.

  And yet...

  “Is it painful? To see all that time and effort disappear?”

  How did he do it? How did he stand creating design after design, never to see or touch it again once the canvas had showered?

  “Excuse me?” His face covered in dark clouds, warning I wasn’t welcome with my hardships and heartaches.

  “That masterpiece you did. I struggled to wash it off.” I laughed gently, even though I didn’t find it funny. More like sad. And a little heart-wrenching. “You invested so much time and energy into something unbelievably magical. Only for it to vanish.”

  I didn’t mean for the past to enter this chat, but somehow it did, licking around us like mist, making him stiffen and frost to feather over his features.

  Gil was beyond talented, and that sort of craftsmanship ought to be recognised—even if the boy ran away and left behind a man with the bad manners of a hardened aristocrat.

  I meant what I said. It’d seemed barbaric to wash so many minutes of his life away, eradicating something so beautiful.

  “Where did you learn to paint like that?” I asked quietly, doing my best to hide my trembles.

  The link I’d had with him was gone. He’d successfully pushed me away so he no longer seemed affected by me.

  He sighed heavily.

  I tasted impatience.

  Felt his annoyance.

  The impertinent dismissal.

  The closed off heart.

  Just like before.

  Exactly like before.

  My mouth turned dry.

  My heart curled around itself in safety.

  Before he could reply, my pain exploded outward. I’d asked gently. I’d waited patiently. If this was the last time I’d see him, I needed to know.

  I need to know so I can move on.

  “Why did you walk away?” I swiped at my cheek. “Without a single word? Why did you let me fall in love with you if you knew you didn’t want me?”

  The air turned instantly oppressive.

  The warehouse was no longer a building but a prison, and I was trapped with Gil as he slowly unwound his legs and arms and pushed off predator-slow from his table. His eyes flickered with truth but his lips delivered lies. “I decided I didn’t like school.”

  “You were almost finished. You managed to stay an extra two years. You could’ve—”

  “Enough.” Coming toward me, he kept his chin down, shading his eyes with dark eyebrows. His untidy hair licked his eyelashes, slicing his forehead with black strands. “Leave, Olin. You’ve been here too long already.”

  I backed toward the door like a coward. I would never have run from him before. I’d even fought some of his battles for him. I’d stuck up for him with Ms Tallup—the teacher from hell. I’d snuck money into his backpack when he wasn’t looking so he could buy groceries.

  I’m not afraid of him.

  Are you sure about that?

  “Gil...I just want to understand.”

  “There’s nothing to understand.” He herded me toward the exit, efficiently, ruthlessly. For every step I took, he took one, hunting me down. His hands remained balled at his sides, his jaw tight and body tense.

  He would’ve been insanely handsome if it hadn’t been for the harsh edge that warned this wasn’t a game for him. I
was a threat, and he wouldn’t hesitate to deal with that threat with whatever means necessary.

  “I tried to move on.” I held my chin higher, glad my voice didn’t wobble. “I almost succeeded. But seeing you again? It’s just reminded me that so much didn’t make sense. You were the one who chased me, remember? You were the one who—”

  “I remember.” He kept stalking me, smooth and unruffled—nothing like the wild boy in school. I didn’t think this version knew how to smile or laugh. He’d mastered the scowl and guarded walls to the point it was a physical reprimand.

  “If you remember, then talk to me. Let’s go for a drink. Catch up. Tell me what you did for the past few years and how you started Total Trickery.”

  “I’m not interested in talking.” The way his voice thickened like a river churning gravel made me hesitate.

  My heart raced. I tilted my head. “What are you interested in?” It was a breathy question. A gambling question. Technically, I knew what he was interested in.

  Throwing me from his warehouse.

  But there was something else.

  Something just beneath the surface.

  Something he didn’t have the strength to acknowledge.

  “Nothing you can give me. Not anymore.” He stopped an arm’s length away. I stepped back, only to slam against the large metal roller door. The clang vibrated through my bones, making me wince.

  He seemed bigger, blacker, more determined to scar me forever. “I’ve paid you. Our deal is done. I need you to go now.”

  I couldn’t tear my eyes from his. “Can I come by sometime...just to say hi?”

  “No.” He opened the pedestrian access beside me. “Like I warned you before, you are no longer welcome here. I appreciate your help today. I’m grateful for your time. But you’re not permitted to visit. Forget about me because I have nothing to give you.”

  “Forget about you like you forgot about me?”

  His jaw worked. “I didn’t forget you.”

  “You left me.”

  “We were kids. It meant nothing.” His voice sounded like scissors, sharp and deliberate, slicing through my attempt at talking. “I won’t reminisce with you, Olin. I’m not trying to be cruel. I just...I really need you to go and promise me you won’t ever come ba—”

  “You’ve moved on. I get it.” I clutched my bag to my side. The crinkle of the envelope inside reminded me I’d fulfilled why I was here. Trying to talk to him was utterly pointless, and I had groceries to buy so I didn’t starve tonight.

  Common sense tried to bow me into surrender. My eyes flickered to the door.

  But...

  But.

  I squared my shoulders, speaking my thoughts aloud rather than keeping them silent. “You know...if I walk out of here now, without trying, I’ll forever wonder. So...here it goes.” I forced myself to smile kindly—to let him know I didn’t hold grudges or hate.

  I might forgive him, but I would never settle unless he talked to me...just once.

  He owed me that.

  Surely, he owes me that.

  “Olin, stop—” He held up his hand, but it was too late.

  “I was in love with you. Did you know that? Of course you knew that. I told you. So many times. And even if I didn’t, it was obvious. I was totally, stupidly besotted in only the way a silly teenage girl can be. I had fantasies of saving you. Moving you into my house. Making you my family to replace those we didn’t want. And I know you loved me too. You told me with every touch, Gil. Every nickname.”

  His gaze flew to my shoulder, no doubt thinking of the tattoo hidden on my back. Then his eyes landed back on mine, lashing me in place with unyielding insolence.

  “That day...the day I invited you to my place. I wanted to give you everything.” I blushed. “So many times, we came close to kissing. So many times, we were this close. In fact, we kinda did kiss if you count a quick brush a kiss. We both wanted it. But then...you cut me out with no explanation. You broke up with me so easily. You humiliated me. You ignored me from that point on. You—”

  “It’s in the past.” His teeth bared between indignant lips. “I can’t change what I did. Just like I can’t change a great number of things, no matter how much I wish I could.”

  I stilled. “What things?”

  He sighed, rubbing his eyes with harsh fingers. “Doesn’t matter.”

  “It obviously does.”

  He groaned, a tormented sound deep in his chest. “You need to go now.”

  “Do you...do you wish you hadn’t broken up with me?”

  His eyebrows tugged down, annoyed at his slip. “What do you want from me, Olin? I’m being as courteous as I can, but you’re not listening to me. I need you to leave.” His eyes battled with hot and cold. “Never come back.”

  “I need to know why.”

  “You don’t need to know. I had my reasons, and those reasons still stand. That’s enough.”

  “For you maybe. But not for me. You have to see it from my point of view.”

  “No, I don’t.” He stood tall, a heavy weight crushing him even while he grew angry. “I don’t owe you anything. All of this was a big mistake. The past was a mistake. Working with you...fuck.” His clipped delivery broke, his eyes flashing at the door. “Please, Olin, I’m so fucking sick of asking. Don’t keep making me repeat myself. I need you to leave and never step foot in here again. It’s better if you forget you ever knew me and move the fuck on.”

  His words stung like wasps.

  Before I could retaliate, he added, “Besides, why do you think I actually had a reason you would accept? A reason I could give you that would absolve what I did?” His gaze glowed with misery—deep, deep, endless misery, but he slammed shutters over his unexplainable sadness and embraced calculated, withering rage instead. “I didn’t need a reason to break off a teenage fling. I owe you nothing. We meant nothing.” His body leaned into mine, bringing frost and snow. “You meant nothing.”

  I swayed, banging against the roller door again. He had me trapped. It was up to him to let me go, yet he didn’t move aside. Didn’t look away. Didn’t stop his hand landing on the door by my ear, clanging with a heavy bell of disgust and dismay. “Stop asking questions I can’t answer. Stop looking at me as if I’m responsible for destroying your life. Stop making me fight with—”

  “I don’t play games, Gil.” I pushed off the door, shoving him back. “I’m not here to throw insults or act as if things that I know meant something were meaningless. If you knew me at all in high-school, you’d know I have no patience for cruelty.”

  Sucking in a breath, I reached out and cupped his cheek. “Besides, I don’t believe you.”

  He reared back, a guttural noise falling from his lips.

  My fingers seared from touching him. My heart cried for the way he reacted.

  I dropped my hand. “I tried to have an honest, adult conversation with you, and you tried shaming it with lies.” I shook my head, disappointed and distraught that the boy I’d never gotten over had turned into such a short-tempered, unbreakable male. “I’ll go. I won’t annoy you with my presence anymore. You’re not telling me the truth, but I’ve got the message. Don’t worry.”

  I brushed past him, my spine tense and knees quaking. “You won.”

  A swift hand shoved me back against the door; a palm splayed over my sternum, holding me in place against the musical metal. “I haven’t won. I never fucking won.”

  “Let me go.”

  “You act as if you’re the only one in pain here. You look at me as if it was all my fucking fault.” His hand burned me—not from heat but dry ice. His touch was worse than any brushstroke from before. Then, it had teased and reminded. Now, it sank past my ribs, deep into the chasm of me, and stabbed a heart that still had bruises. “You don’t get to judge me, Olin. You don’t get to judge what I do to protect—” His eyes snapped closed, his head twisting to the side.

  “What aren’t you telling me?”

  His eyes opened
again, blackened with history and lost to whatever secrets he refused to share.

  My heart skittered away, afraid of him. Afraid of the cavern of agony inside him. “Gil...”

  “Goddammit, don’t.” His forehead crashed on mine, breathing hard. Our eyes locked, stare to stare, noses almost touching. His anger cracked, revealing a jagged splinter of fragile vulnerability.

  I trembled.

  How could a man who surrounded himself in barricades suddenly leave himself wide open for attack?

  His gaze glittered with two opposing forces even as his throat worked as if swallowing pure rage.

  But beneath the rage burned lust.

  A lust that had only grown instead of diminished.

  A lust that was an infectious, insidious disease.

  I froze.

  Breath vanished.

  Time stood still.

  “Goddamn you to hell.” His fingers slipped up my neck, holding me captive as his body pressed into me and his lips smashed painfully onto mine.

  The second his mouth captured mine, all ethics, willpower, and rationale fled. Normal behaviour scurried like scared little mice as the claws of violence and desire snatched us both.

  His fingers tightened on my neck at the same moment his tongue sliced through my lips, invading me, tasting me, taking the kiss he hadn’t taken in the past.

  For a second, I was his to command. Totally pliable and shocked.

  Then, I grew angry. Furious that he’d refused to take a kiss I’d welcomed years ago, but now, when there was no such offer, he snatched it from me so callously.

  I bit him as he smothered me, his breath catching with a snarl.

  “Let me have this.” He kissed me harder. “Before I can’t.”

  I should teach him he couldn’t touch me without permission. I should knee him in the balls and hurt him as badly as he’d hurt me.

  But his voice throbbed with pain. A pain that wasn’t flimsy or easily cured. A pain that brought tears to my eyes with its rawness.

  Our attraction exploded.

  Our togetherness ruptured.

  It burned.

  It ached.

  It wanted.

  Whatever connection he’d tried to deny, beat him into acceptance.