11. Ronan
Ihad the urge to continue with my newfound addiction of watching Olivia through the security camera.
She seemed bored for most of yesterday but handled it well.
She is still not a morning person, although she used to argue that it was because she stayed up at night working on her homework.
I sit in the armchair in the private security room, and this time, I brought more scotch than I did yesterday, and by the look of things, I will need it.
I drop the glass on the coffee table and cross a leg over the other as I watch her place both feet on the bed, baring her… Oh fuck.
I sit straight.
She is dreaming.
Her hand goes to her pussy, and even from here, I can see that it’s wet. I’m not getting a vivid view, partly because of the distance between the armchair and the monitor but also because I’m not wearing my glasses.
I stopped wearing them as often as I used to after we broke up.
She convinced me to wear glasses after she noticed how I squinted during our study hours when trying to read texts.
My mother was pleased about the progress, but at the time, she didn’t know a certain girl in school had anything to do with it.
I drag my butt until I’m sitting on the edge of the armchair as I watch her pleasure herself. It’s torture to watch, but I can’t look away either.
I feel my sac growing full and my cock ticking.
I groan.
Then, a bird on the windowsill hits its beak repeatedly against the window, and she wakes up.
It takes her a while before she notices the food waiting for her. The food I had asked to be specially prepared for her.
She enjoyed the sushi so much yesterday, I”m sure she”ll enjoy this as well. That was the best part of our Monday talks. She constantly had to mention the gazpacho soup that her grandmother prepared.
Her paternal grandmother, Abuela, played a huge role in her life. Olivia’s family history is like a tapestry. Her mother is French, her father Latin American. They met at Harvard, fell in love over shared courses, and stayed in Boston together after they got married.
Her Abuela, Amalia, was the cornerstone of her life, especially when it came to her love for cooking. I’m sure Olivia named her bakery ”Amalia” after her grandmother because her Abuela always believed in her and she taught her everything about baking.
I delight at her eagerness in every action as she dashes back to pick up a spoon. It”s fun to watch her eat. I like it when she bounces her head from side to side or when she hoards the dish, letting me know she would not share her meal with me if I were there.
I like it. I like it a lot.
I miss it.
I miss her. I miss what we had so much, and damn Liam for asking me that specific question about what it had felt like to be dating her.
I doubt I have ever been this genuinely happy about anything ever since she left.
She starts to cough, and I stand on my feet, getting closer to the screen and squinting.
Was the food too spicy?
She takes limp steps to the door, and that’s my cue for darting out of the private security room.
It looks like an allergic reaction, but I never knew she had any allergies.
I pluck my phone out of the pocket of my jeans and dial Liam’s number. He picks up on the first ring.
“Get a car ready, now,” I’m scampering down the hallway.
“On it,” he ends the call. No questions asked.
I shove my cell phone into my pocket and dart toward her bedroom.
I push the door, but something is wedging against it. I push with a little more force and then see strands of blue-black hair sprawling on the floor.
Holy fuck.
I slip myself in, my wristwatch ripping off because of the small opening and clattering to shatter on the floor.
I crouch and immediately sweep her body up.
Her breathing is heavy.
I quickly exit the bedroom and descendthe stairs three or four at a time, praying that I don”t fall as I go.
How I manage to get from being inside my house to hopping into the backseat of my car in an instant is beyond me. Liam recognizes how urgent the matter is and acts quickly, barely waiting for me to shut the door before he takes off.
I won’t be able to live with myself if something were to happen to her, I would never be able to fucking live with myself.
It’s my responsibility to take care of her. To look out for her.
I clench her to my chest and grit my teeth as more bleakthoughts begin to fester in my mind.
I drop my eyes to her face and use my hand to brush some strands of her hair off her cheeks. She looks like she’s dying. She looks… Oh, dear God, please. For the sake of anything or whatever, please don’t let me lose her. Not again. Not like this.
I drop my forehead to rest on hers then press a kiss on her forehead. I should have kissed her more. I should have held her more. I should have never let her go. I shouldn’t have stepped out of her life when she asked me to. I should have fought for our love.
Liam pulls the car into a clinic that is close to my manor and on my payroll for good reason. It is barely five minutes away, and while I can boast that the clinic is up to standard, the cream-colored walls have always made me want to puke.
Clinics always make me want to puke.
I climb out of the car when Liam jumps out to help me with the door.
It’s madness in my head as I dart into the emergency room, demanding attention. Nurses file out from different corners, and soon, Olivia is being ripped away from me and taken on a stretcher into a ward.
I’m about to go with them when a nurse slams the door in my face.
“Fuck you,” I bark, but I’m not sure she heard me.
I don’t have a problem with the nurse. I just want to be in there. With her.
I want to be in there because I feel… Fuck… She better come back to me… She better fucking come back to me.
I grip the nape of my neck, needing to hit something—anything to get some of the tightness and frustration out of me.
I pace, everything and everyone becoming insignificant.
“She will be fine,” Liam clears his throat behind me but quickly steps away when I shoot him a deadly glance.
I don’t need any bullshit talk about whether she will be fine or not. I don’t need anyone to fucking comfort me. I need to leave this place with her alive and well.
“What could it be?” Liam whispers behind me, and I grit my teeth, ignoring his questions.
He takes the hint.
I continue pacing, unable to compose myself.
I can’t say how much time has passed when the door of the ward opens and a doctor in her regalia steps out holding what looks like a report.
I bolt to her, “Is she okay?”
“What’s the news?” Liam is standing beside me now.
“She is fine,” she smiles, but I see that’s not all.
It’s in her eyes.
“I can sense there’s a ‘but’ coming,” I aid her, and she nods, sighing.
“As I said, she is fine; she is resting for now, you can see her,” she lifts the report to me, “But…,” she hands the report to me, and I accept it, never shifting my eyes away from her, “She was poisoned.”
“What?” Liam spurts.
“Poisoned?” I scoff. “How is that possible?”
Olivia was under my roof, protected by me, and somehow, someone was able to poison her. If I hadn’t been there watching her in the private security room, she would have been dead.
My heart misses a beat at the mere thought of losing her. My mind is spiraling, and I need to see her with my eyes now. I need to know she is alive and breathing.
“I will see her now,” I don’t even wait for the doctor to reply, but I can see her nodding from the corner of my eye.
“Sure… but try not to make her talk too much for now,” she says with another small smile. Then she looks down at her wristwatch and mumbles something before scampering into another ward.
I hand the report over to Liam, “See if this matches the poison from Barbara’s autopsy report.”
“On it,” he snatches the report a little too quickly, and it is exactly the kind of snappiness that I need in this situation.
I will get to the root of this, but for now, she is alive.