Page 26 of Painter's Obsession

My fist cuts him off, connecting with his face.

“I don’t trust you, and I don’t like you,” I snarl, raising my fist to strike again.

Before I can, a sharp sting spreads across my face. Gabriela slapped me—hard.

“I don’t know what the fuck has gotten into you, but figure it out!” she yells, her voice shaking with fury. “I was alone while you were in jail, and I managed just fine. I don’t need you babysitting me!”

She storms off toward the trailer. “Ren, you’re welcome to come in,” she calls over her shoulder.

But Ren doesn’t follow her. Instead, he lingers, wiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb. A thin line of blood glistens on his split lip, and he smirks, his eyes meeting mine with a dangerous gleam.

“What happened to you?” I ask, my voice low.

Ren chuckles, a low, rough sound that only pisses me off more. “A client.”

“They usually punch their lawyer?”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “You’d be surprised.”

His tone grates on my nerves, and I clench my fists, itching to hit him again. “You think this is funny?”

He shrugs casually, his shoulders barely moving. “You’re interesting, that’s all.”

I glare at him as he follows Gabriela toward the trailer, grabbing her hand when he catches up to her. She leads him inside, but not before he glances back at me. His dead eyes gleam with amusement, the kind that gnaws at my gut and fuels my distrust.

I stay outside for a moment, letting the night air cool my rising anger. The last thing I need is to walk in on them flirting, laughing, and pretending everything is perfect. It’s not that I don’t want my sister to be happy—I do. But something about him doesn’t sit right with me.

Tonight, I’ll figure out what it is.

I storm inside and head straight to my room, ignoring the sound of their voices drifting from the kitchen. Once I’m in the relative safety of my space, I kick off my work boots, grab a towel, and pull out a pair of black sweats and a hoodie.

As I open my door to leave, I nearly run straight into fucking Prince Charming.

“Hey,” he says, his voice low and almost disarming. “I know you don’t like me, but I mean it—I only have good intentions.”

My nose flares as I step closer, crowding him until our chests are nearly touching. I force him back against the thin trailer wall.

“Were those good intentions when you left the door open for me to walk in on you fucking my sister?” I growl, my voice a low snarl.

His lips quirk into a small, infuriating smirk. “That was unintentional, and I’ve already explained,” he murmurs, but there’s a spark of excitement in his tone that makes my blood boil.

And then I feel it.

The bulge growing in his pants.

“You’re fucking sick,” I hiss, disgust curling in my chest.

He chuckles, the sound low and rough. “What does that make you, then?”

Before I can process his words, his hand cups the front of my pants, brushing against the hardness I hadn’t even realized was there.

Rage explodes in me, and my head snaps forward, connecting with his.

“Fuck!” he laughs, stumbling back slightly but steadying himself, his hand pressing against his forehead. “So violent,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with amusement.

My stomach twists, bile rising in my throat as I step back, disgusted—not just with him, but with myself.

I need distance. I need proof—something solid to show Gabriela.

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