Page 83 of Painted Truths

This man and his mood swings are going to give me whiplash.

I raise my body from the water and climb out in—what I hope appears to be a graceful way—before turning to face him while water drips from my bikini-ed body.

It pleases me to no end to find that even in his anger, he can't help but run his narrowed eyes up and down my wet curves before meeting my gaze with a feral look, but I refuse to be cowed.

"Henry. I have been here, minding my own business all evening. What could I possibly have done to set off this little tantrum?"

Making sure to effect as much condescension into my words as humanly possible, the newly found sadist in me, the one only this man can draw out, is overjoyed at his evident vexation as he steps closer so that we are toe to toe before bending at the knees to bring him right down to my face.

"Then why the fuck has my brother been blowing up your phone with missed calls and texts for the last several hours? Huh?"

My brows draw together as he rages on. "His texts tell me exactly what the fuck he's after, little Miss Fuck Buddy. ‘I need you, sweet girl.’ ‘I need to see you, Liv.’ What did I say about not having anyone else scratch those itches?"

Jesus, he's really the most insecure man I've ever met. But after my jealous episode on the jet, I can't really talk. So even though everything inside of me is screaming to give him hell for his assumptions, I opt for the gentle approach.

"This is easily remedied, Henry. May I have my phone please?"

If it had been possible for Henry's head to explode like a supernova, I'm altogether sure that this singular request would have done the job in record time.

Instead, he yanks my phone out of his pants pocket before dropping it onto the tiles and crushing it under his heel.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Olivia

When he raises his eyes to meet my stunned ones, his self-satisfied smirk sends me tumbling into a spiral of rage like never before.

Battle lines are clearly drawn. I suck in a deep breath before narrowing my eyes into slits, surprised steam hasn’t begun pouring from my ears.

Game fucking on, asshole.

I knew it. I should have just gone mental to start with. Obviously. Hyde is gone, and I’m dealing with Jekyll once again.

Yeah, okay, so I can take partial blame here.

I may have allowed him to believe there was something between Alex and me before everything changed between us, but in all fairness, he’s acting like a screaming toddler who can’t be reasoned with.

Another Father Thomas adage flashes across my mind: cutting off his nose to spite his face.

Hitting the nail squarely on the head once again, Father.

At this moment, this man is bringing out the very worst parts of me, and even though I know this, I know what I’m about to invite before I ever say a word, just as I’d known that day in his office when I goaded him, I can’t seem to help myself.

I push back harder.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?”

I force the words out through gritted teeth while going up on my tiptoes, forcing him to pull back from my face. The slight accession makes me feel like I’m gaining advantage, despite our glaringly obvious size disparity, so I keep going.

“I will not be told whom I can, and cannot, see. What I can, and cannot, do.”

Stepping forward, forcing him to step back, I continue, my voice rising to a shout.

“Never, ever again, you hear me? I will live my life how I want, where I want, with whomever I want, and you can go and—and... fuck a duck if you think you can force my hand, Henry DeMarco.”

Spinning on my heel, I walk away feeling damn proud of myself, despite telling him to fuck a duck.

Seriously, Olivia.