Page 123 of Painted Truths

Striding forward with a menacing frown on his usually pleasantly passive face, Samuel grabs me by the shoulders, hoisting me to my feet before depositing me into a desk chair. He tugs my arms behind my back and, looping a cable tie around my hands, pulls tightly, so tight that it cuts into my skin, freeing an unwilling hiss of pain from my clenched jaw.

He proceeds to bind my feet, too, all under the watchful gaze of my best friend’s mother.

Drawing back slightly, a familiar scent of soap and citrus emanates from his body. He runs his finger softly across my lower lip, his eyes intent on the movement, and I barely suppress a shiver, unwilling to risk angering him.

“Remember our deal, Laur. This one’s mine. Mine to fuck. Mine to hurt. Hands off her.”

My eyes meet Mila’s green orbs, so like her brothers, as nausea swirls in my stomach at his words, because the look in his light eyes sends a ripple of cold fear straight to my heart. His fervour is shocking and bordering on scarcely constrained violence.

“Fine. You can have the daughter momentarily as a warm-up if you wish. I need the mother to witness the child’s pain.”

And with those words, she produces a knife before stalking towards me slowly. Desperate to slow her even more, I grab onto something she’s said that makes no sense.

“You know I don’t have any children, Mrs DeMarco.”

Something passes over her face as her eyes darken, and her brow draws in as much as her overly botoxed face will allow.

“What I do know is that you tempted Enrico away from me. I know you’ve dug your vicious claws into my son, too, as if stealing my husband wasn’t enough, you slut. And I know that today, you and your spawn here will pay. For everything.”

Mutely, I shake my head, confused, but that only seems to draw her wrath even more.

“Samuel!”

He winks at me, stepping forward with a savage smile slashing his face, before twisting to face Lauren. “Yes.”

“Take her for some playtime. And make it hurt.”

Her eyes meet mine and I can feel every inch of her hatred when she speaks again.

“I want her mother to feel her pain.”

“Of course, Laur.”

His manic grin and wide eyes are the last I see of him before he slinks out the door as Lauren DeMarco, once again, takes centre stage.

“Please, Lauren.” I try reverting to her given name in an effort to stop this madness. “I am begging you here. You don’t want to do this.”

At my words, she grabs my chin, forcing my head back before spitting in my face.

“You couldn’t possibly know what I want, Charlotte. And you definitely don’t care. Not after you stole my husband and the love that was owed to me. The love that should have been mine.”

Realising I’m not getting anywhere, I go along with what she’s saying, playing the part of this Charlotte, or whomever she believes me to be.

“Why do you think I stole your husband? Or his love! The way I hear it, he never loved you.”

Staring down her nose at me, the only physical sign that my words have affected her shows on her flushed cheeks.

“He never gave himself a chance to love me before you seduced him, Charlotte. And you sank your claws in so fucking deep, he’ll never be free of you. Or your bastard spawn.”

She leans closer until our noses are almost touching, her breath brushing my cheek when she whisper-shouts, “But he’ll be free when you’re both dead and buried.”

And with that parting shot, she pushes my horrified face away with force, then strides from the room without a backward glance, twisting the lock on the outside before her footfalls can be heard in the hallway beyond.

“Mila?” My voice is a whisper. Lauren’s crazed ramblings were scary but worse still, the deranged look in her eyes. She fully intends to carry out her threat and definitely has no idea that I’m not who she thinks I am.

Alex has often mentioned she has the tendency to flip a switch, but I’d no idea just how bad he had meant.

Even in our dire situation, my heart can’t help but break for both my lover and my friend at how life must have been under her category of care.