Revenge Forsaken Page 9

  Finally, they lay quietly, permitting the water to spill around them like they were both afraid to be the first to break the spell between them.

  Olive finally raised her head and shifted her body, Remy falling from inside her. Slowly, she rose, extending her hand to help him up but he didn’t move from the stone tiles as he studied her.

  “I’m good here,” he chuckled. “You look good like this.”

  “Maybe you could draw me,” Olive replied dryly, reaching for the body wash. Remy was on his feet then, reaching to take it from her hands.

  “Drawing is your thing, isn’t it?” he asked soaping up his hands to run them over the curves of her body.

  “You don’t need to make fun of me,” Olive said defensively. “I already told you that it was a hobby.”

  Remy paused and looked at her seriously.

  “I’m not making fun of you,” he assured her. “Judging by what I saw on my desk, I think you’ve got huge talent. Surely you can see that, Olive.”

  She seemed dubious as she shrugged and Remy continued to soap her supple lines with strong hands, pausing along the most intimate crevices to tease lightly.

  “I would have liked to go to art school,” she confessed, sinking against him as his one hand roamed between her legs, while the other worked the slippery gel over her breasts and taut nipples, pausing to pinch the hardened nubs between his thumb and forefinger.

  She jumped lightly when he matched a pinch with a hard tug on her swollen clit and he chuckled, placing a kiss on her neck.

  “You can still go to art school,” he reminded her. “You’re not dead yet.”

  Olive snorted, letting her head fall back to relish all of the sensations he was pulling from her.

  “Art school isn’t really in the cards.”

  “Why not?”

  She turned to face him fully.

  “Why do you think?” The irritation was clear on her face. “My father has me doing his bidding, Remy.”

  “How? You’re an adult woman, Olive. You could walk away from him any time you want.”

  “And then he’ll turn my mom against me. He’ll probably kill her. Why do you think I still live at home, Remy? I need to make sure he’s not killing her, that she eats, that she doesn’t OD!” she dragged in a ragged breath. “He knows I stay because of her. If she dies, I’m gone. I don’t know why he cares, but it’s like he needs to have control over me. It’s always been that way,” she said, her voice dripping with defeat.

  “If I walk away from him, he’ll ensure I never see her again. Every time I get her to rehab, he’s waiting there with a bottle of pills in one fist and a bottle of booze to chase them down with, when she gets out.”

  “What? Why? Why would he do that to her?”

  “Like I said, it’s how he controls both of us. Because he’s a selfish bastard who needs to be in charge. He knows if he keeps her strung out, he’ll keep me under his control, too.”

  Remy was sure his teeth were going to break, they were clenched together so ferociously.

  “I’ll help you get away from him,” he rasped. “He’s not as powerful as you think.”

  She raised her head and smiled weakly.

  “Yeah, I know he’s not but while my mom is under his control, he’s got a nuclear warhead trained right on me and he knows it. I could never forgive myself if I left and something happened to Mom — Anyway, he owes you a lot of money, Remy. You need to focus on getting it back.”

  “No,” Remy said with heat. “I can do both. One thing at a time.”

  “Let’s talk about it later, okay?” She seemed eager to change the subject.

  “You don’t think I’ll help you, do you?” Remy demanded, instantly understanding her skepticism.

  “A lot can change in a couple weeks,” she replied softly. “I don’t want you to commit to something now because you’re drowning in pheromones.”

  He snickered, and she smacked his chest. “You’re such a…guy.”

  “What about a job?” he asked.

  “What about a job?”

  “Would you be willing to work with me at Remington’s?”

  It was Olive’s turn to snicker.

  “I thought that was what I was doing,” she said.

  “I mean a real job,” Remy said. “One which might actually stimulate you.”

  “I don’t know if I could handle much more…stimulation,” her eyes twinkled as she delivered the taunt.

  “Now who’s acting like a perverted teenager?”

  She laughed, feeling more carefree than she had in ages.

  “Like what kind of job?”

  “Like being a house artist for the studio.”

  “Are you serious?”

  He nodded. “Yeah. We’ll work out a salary once we’re done here.”

  “A salary?” Olive echoed. “That implies I’d be working for a while.”

  He arched his brow and nodded.

  “Is that going to be a problem?”

  She didn’t smile and Remy felt a stab of worry.

  “I think we’re getting a bit ahead of ourselves here, Remy,” she murmured and he frowned.

  “I’m not asking you to marry me,” he snapped. “I’m offering you a position doing something you love. Nothing else.”

  She nodded slowly but he could see she was still hesitant.

  “Why would you do this for me?” As the words came out, she realized how pathetic she sounded.

  “Hasn’t anyone ever done anything to help you out? To support you?” He traced the curve of her jaw as he said it, his eyes boring into hers. Seeing…everything.

  She frantically blinked back the moisture that was building in her eyes.

  Get a grip, Olive! He’s not giving you his last breath or anything. It’s just a damn job. People get those all the time.

  “All right,” she agreed. “I’ll take the job.”

  “Finally. And besides, it’s not like I’m offering it because I’m kind, or anything like that.”

  He said ‘kind’ as if the word was poisonous, and she had to grin a little inside. “You’re talented. I would’ve hired you even if you walked in off the street with those drawings.”

  Now she smiled on the outside too, a sense of warmth filling her.

  “Yeah, well, wait until you hear how much I charge,” she said with laughter filling her voice. She blinked mischievously, peering at him out of the corner of her eye.

  “I can afford you, babe. Now, where were we?”

  11

  This is too good to be true, a little voice whispered at Olive as she sat in the studio, hunched over a work desk. You’re living in a fantasy which you’re going to wake from with brutal repercussions.

  In her peripheral vision she saw Remy working on an anorexically skinny woman, his dark head hunched over her lower back in concentration.

  “Taking a break, Princess?” Jillian taunted her and Olive turned to eye the redhead evenly.

  “Same as you, I guess,” she replied. “Do you need something, Jillian?”

  A small smirk toyed on Jillian’s lips and she nodded.

  “I need to know how you suckered Remy into letting you work here,” she answered sharply. “I thought you were a temp to help out with administrative affairs and suddenly you’re the studio artist.”

  Olive bristled.

  “If you’ve got a problem with me being here, Jill, I suggest you take it up with the boss.”

  “You mean your boyfriend?”

  Olive blushed.

  “He’s not my boyfriend,” she muttered, although she didn’t know why she continued to argue with Jillian or Angus. For the past week, every time Remy was busy, one of the two would corner Olive and make some obtuse comment about her relationship with the tattoo studio owner.

  At least they seem to like my work, Olive thought optimistically. Not that they had come out and said anything directly, but Olive knew that the customers were picking out her designs more than even Remy’s.
And even Angus was starting to push custom design work to her.

  After the shop closed, the two would go out for dinner and end up back at the condo, making love until the wee hours of the morning.

  In those darkest hours of the day, she’d never felt safer or more secure, even if in her mind, she knew that what they had was fleeting.

  Still, Olive intended to relish the escape from her dismal life under Victor’s rule.

  “Jillian, don’t you have something better to do than bother the artist?” Remy demanded, appearing suddenly at their sides. Olive swallowed a smile as Jillian scowled and sauntered away without responding.

  “Are they still giving you a hard time?” Remy asked and she tried to laugh it off.

  “Who says they’re giving me a hard time?”

  “Your face, for one,” Remy replied dryly. “And this is my shop, Ollie. I know what’s happening under my nose.”

  “They’re just protective of their business – and you,” Olive said, wondering why she was defending the two bullies.

  I have just as much of a right to be here as they do…don’t I?

  She wasn’t sure that was true.

  “When Jillian started here, Angus was on her ass twenty-four-seven,” Remy informed her. “Consider this Jillian paying it forward.”

  Except that Angus is on my ass too, Olive thought, but she didn’t bother saying it aloud. There was no point in getting Remy involved. This wasn’t something he could step in and cure anyway. Plus, it wouldn’t last much longer. One way or another, things with Victor would come to a head soon.

  “We’re filming tomorrow,” Remy told her, pulling up a stool to sit at her side. “I’m going to introduce you as the new artist.”

  Olive gaped at him in surprise.

  “You are?” she choked. “Why?”

  He smirked, a bemused expression crossing over his face.

  “Because you are the new artist,” he reminded her. “And Blotted is about everyone who works here.”

  Genuine pleasure swept through Olive and she threw her arms around Remy’s neck.

  “Thank you!” she gasped. “Wow!”

  Remy returned her embrace, chuckling.

  “You don’t need to thank me, you know. You’ve earned it.”

  She dropped her arms and stared at him with wide, sorrowful eyes.

  “What’s going to happen after Victor pays you the money, Remy?” she whispered, looking around to see if they were being overheard.

  He lost the smile and sat back to study her face.

  “What do you mean?” he asked, even though Olive was sure he understood exactly what she was asking.

  “You know what I mean,” she sighed. “Victor isn’t going to let me stay here and work.”

  “First of all, I really don’t give a flying fuck what your father wants after this, and secondly, I haven’t heard one word from Victor since you came here, Ollie. Have you?”

  She tensed.

  “I spoke to him the day after I got here,” she confessed. “He told me to stop calling him.”

  “Did it occur to you that maybe he’s never intending to pay me what he owes me?”

  Olive balked.

  “Then what?” she muttered. “He’s going to, in essence, sell me to you?”

  Remy’s face was hard with anger.

  “Of course not. You’re a human being, not a cow. I wouldn’t have agreed to that. And I already told you that you can go home if you want.”

  “I don’t want to go home!” she cried passionately and his face softened. “I also don’t want to pretend that things aren’t going to be very different once my father resurfaces.”

  “That’s something we’ll deal with when the time comes. His deadline is one week from today.”

  Their gazes met and Olive could feel the tension brewing between them.

  “Olive, we’ll figure this out, okay? You just have to leave it to me.”

  She wished she had as much confidence in his words as he seemed to have speaking them, but Olive knew it wasn’t that simple, that matters were too complicated now.

  Just enjoy what you have now. In a week, you’re going to be back home and Remy is going to kiss you goodbye.

  “Olive…”

  She refocussed her attention on him.

  “It’s just temporary, Remy. No one can save me from my father. He’s got…mom.”

  He growled at her.

  “You’re special, okay? I like being with you. And I don’t like many people. I’m not going to let that go,” he paused and drew in a breath, as if fortifying himself. “You fill something in me that’s been missing since Simon has been gone.”

  Her heart quickened at the deepness of his words. He reached up and cupped her face with a rough palm.

  “You’re safe with me,” he promised quietly. “I know you have your fears about what Victor might do, but I need you to trust me, all right?”

  She nodded, gulping back the dozens of “what if” questions which threatened to spill from her lips.

  “AHEM!”

  They turned and looked at Jillian who sneered at them.

  “Your one o’clock is here,” she jeered and Remy rose from his stool to greet the newest client.

  “Not your boyfriend, huh?” Jillian hissed snidely and Olive shook her head, her eyes still fixed on Remy. His words of reassurance reverberated through her soul, causing a tidal wave of happiness and…safety, to drown her.

  “No, he’s not my boyfriend,” she repeated.

  He’s so much more than that. And I’m going to lose him.

  12

  The intercom buzzed and Remy hurried to answer it, grabbing his wallet from the sofa table as he moved.

  “Come on up,” he called, letting the delivery man inside.

  “That was fast,” Olive commented from her spot on the sofa. “We only ordered like fifteen minutes ago.”

  “Only the speediest service for my woman,” Remy chuckled, throwing open the door. A second later, the elevator doors slid open and Remy’s eyebrows shot up in shock.

  “Luke! What are you doing here?”

  “We need to talk,” Luke said, brushing past Remy and letting himself inside the condo. “Are you alone?”

  “Uh…no…”

  Luke paused at the entranceway as Olive padded into the front, eyeing the former MMA fighter warily.

  “Hello,” she said.

  “Olive Chaminga, I presume,” Luke said, unsmiling.

  Olive and Remy exchanged a worried look.

  “You don’t remember me?” Luke asked, baring his teeth slightly as he sauntered further into the condo. “We met once. Your father was trying to sell me the Brooklyn Bridge.”

  “Oh…”

  “Luke, whatever happened between you and Victor has nothing to do with Olive,” Remy snapped defensively, closing the door and joining his best friend in the living room. “Why are you here?”

  “I’m here, Remy, because I had a feeling you’d gone and done something stupid and here you are, proving me right.”

  Remy glowered.

  “Honey, will you excuse us? I wouldn’t want you stealing my wallet while Remy and I are chatting,” Luke said coldly. Olive blinked, her face flushed with humiliation.

  “Watch it, friend,” Remy growled, taking an aggressive step toward Luke. “Olive, give us a minute, will you?”

  She didn’t respond but Remy could see the upset in her face as she rushed from the room.

  “What the fuck was that about?” Remy hissed. “You have no right barging in here—”

  “What is that woman doing here, Remy?”

  He scoffed.

  “Luke, since when do I have to run my personal life by you of all people? Before Meredith, you had a string of bimbos lined up outside your apartment. Or have you forgotten?”

  “I don’t give a shit who you’re banging, you idiot!” Luke retorted, sitting back to study his face. “Unless it happens to be the daughter of a conman. How
did you hook up with her?”

  “How did you even know Olive was here?”

  “Jesus Christ, you’re in deeper than I thought,” Luke sighed. “YOU HAVE HER ON YOUR SHOW!”

  Oh, right. Dammit!

  “Why do you care, Luke? Olive is not her father.”

  Luke leaned forward, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

  “Wow, I gave you entirely too much credit ... how did you come to hook up with “Olive” without her father somehow being the catalyst?”

  Remy’s fists clenched at his side, trying to churn out a lie but his mind was blank.

  “Shit, Remy. How much money have the two of them taken you for?”

  “Olive has nothing to do with her father’s ripoff,” Remy insisted. “She’s here until Victor can come up with the money to repay me.”

  Luke blinked several times.

  “What?!”

  “She’s…” He didn’t want to say the words aloud, knowing how disgusting they sounded without any context.

  “He’s using his daughter as security for what he stole from you — God Damn it, Remy!” Luke shouted and Remy cringed.

  “It’s not as bad as it sounds.”

  “And just how much is she supposed to be worth?”

  “Fuck off!” Remy growled. “It doesn’t matter how much he owes me.”

  “So a man who owes you x amount has given you his daughter as collateral to do what with exactly...”

  “Jesus Christ, Luke, you’re disgusting. I’m not...what do you think I am?”

  “Misguided? Confused? An idiot for letting that shyster’s daughter into your house! And just what the hell are you supposed to do with her, when he reneges on that sweet piece of — collateral?”

  “Watch your mouth, Luke. You don’t know the whole story,” Remy muttered. “And if you came to yell at me, your job is done.”

  “No, my brother, it’s not. Not even close. Where is Chaminga now?”

  “I have no idea. He has two days to make good on his promise.”

  “And then what? You sacrifice the girl? Or worse, sacrifice yourself and marry the bait?”