CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT
OLIVER
I stepped out of the darkness, taking slow and calculated strides towards Dallas. I watched as her throat worked up and down, her eyes widened and her lips slightly parted.
I had walked to the darker part of the studio to get more paint. I walked back in to see her staring at the artwork. My artwork. My steps were light so she couldn't hear me approaching. I decided not to interrupt her and just watched from a distance.
It was the first time anyone had ever seen my paintings. And the person had to be my very uncultured maid. The sparkle in her eyes as she admired the paintings brought me a strange sense of satisfaction. She wasn't intimadated by the dark themes and unsettling imagery.
Dallas stared at them with a glint that conveys she sees them as masterpieces. I had never considered any of my work as a masterpiece. Hell, I had no intent of creating any masterpiece. This was just a form of communication I had picked up. The canvas doesn't talk back. And the brush tells whatever story I want it to tell. I'm always in control. Just like in every other aspect of my life.
But when she advanced towards my most recent creation, I had to step in and stop her. She can't see it yet. No, she can never see it. First, it's not ready. Second, she can never know about my recent obsession.
“Oh uhm… I didn't mean to invade your privacy… I just… I was cleaning and I…” she stuttered.
Then she suddenly paused as if collecting her thoughts . I raised an eyebrow, demanding she continue her explanation.
“I came in here to clean and saw that the painting by the wall had been shifted from its place. I just wanted to put it back when I came across this place. I didn't mean to snoop, really. I just got so caught up with these magnificent views. I know I shouldn't have but –”
“You think they're magnificent?” I cut her before she could finish, masking my real expression with irritation.
I knew she liked the paintings when she wouldn't take her eyes off them, but to hear her confirm it awoke something in me. Something strong. Powerful. And very dark. And very twisted.
“Uhm…yes… don't you like the compliment?” her brows furrowed as she stared at me.
“I don't vie for something as mediocre as a compliment. I know my work is great. Everything I do is always great.”
I waltz past her to the unfinished piece that she shouldn't see. I moved it further away from her view.
“Arrogant jerk.” She muttered to me.
“I heard that.”
“Didn't mean for you not to hear it.” She snarled.
A chuckle worked its way to my throat but I quickly swallowed it.
“You're quite snarky for someone who is on my payroll, little monkey.” I said, my tone is laced with amusement.
“Sorry boss, I can't help it. I have an allergy towards arrogance.” She said in a mocking tone.
“Oh my, here I thought I was the only one with a strange allergy.” I smacked my tongue.
“Glad we have something we can bond over. Oh wait, we can't. I'm allergic to you, actually.” She gave me a tight smile.
I couldn't refrain from chuckling this time. I caught a hint of a smile on Dallas's face but she quickly smoothened her expression. She cocked an eyebrow at me.
“Did you… paint these?” She lowered her voice.
“Yes.”
“Wow! They're hauntingly unique. I've never see anything like this.” she gushed.
I didn't give her any response, partly because I don't know what to say.
“I didn't even know you paint.”
“No one does.”
Her lips slightly parted.
“So no one has ever seen any of these?”
“No one. No one ever will again.”
I pinned her with a glare, the context behind my words were clear. She shouldn't think of coming here ever again. That Dallas would listen to me was highly doubtful. She has a masters degree when it comes to pissing me off.
“Yeah yeah, I get it.” She chuckled.
“Just a quick question, the huge painting in your bedroom that I might have called ‘hideous’ a few times, did you paint it?” She asked, but it's almost like she didn't want the answer.
A very dark and twisted part of me wanted to keep her like this, filled with guilt that she might have accidentally hurt me by terming the piece ‘hideous’. But somehow, I can't bring myself to do that.
“No.”
I could see the instant relief in her eyes.
“And you shouldn't call it hideous, you have no knowledge about art.”
I packed the brushes scattered on the table. I was done for the day.
“Hello! I recognized the greatness behind these ones the second I stepped into this room. I think I have enough knowledge, thank you very much.” she flipped her hair, baring her neck slightly.
“As entertaining as this has been, you should leave.” I stated plainly.
“Argh, fine.”
Her gaze lingered on the frames on the wall as if contemplating something. I shut my eyes briefly and inhaled. I hope I don't regret what I'm about to do.
“Dallas.” I called, startling her a bit.
“Yes?”
“Take anyone you want.” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
I never thought the day I'll have to part with any of my creations would come, but here we are.
She started to protest.
“No, it's really nothing. I was just admiring-”
“Dallas?” I cut her off.
“Take it!” I said, with more finality this time.
I expected her to flip me off and storm out of the door. But instead, her expression melted into a smile. She strolled to a framed painting on the wall, her fingers trailed the strokes gently.
She looked at me and flashed me one of her rarest genuine smiles.
“Thank you.” She said before walking out of the door.
Fuck me, she'll be the literal death of me.
I had just let her in after I vowed to myself not to ever do that again. I even let her walk away with a piece of my sanity. Gradually, she is becoming my maddening obsession. I have never been so attached to something or craved something so much like I crave Dallas Valencia.
I sighed, bringing myelf back to reality.
I brought out my phone and dialed a number.
“Do you find everything I asked of you?”
“Yes sir. I have emailed all the information to you.”
“Good. No one hears about this. Not even my mother. Do you understand?.”
“Yes sir, I understand.”
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