Page 145 of Wicked Little Secret
Stubbornness won’t allow me to admit the truth in his accusation. I resort to silently glaring at him, practically shaking on the spot from the anger coursing through me.
…and the arousal pooling in my panties.
I’ll never admit it aloud.
Ever.
“I can practically smell you,” he goes on in a whisper that racks a shiver down my spine. He licks at his lips, meeting my dark eyes with even darker orbs of his own. “I can still taste you.”
Shaking my head fervently side to side, I take a wide step back. I’m in need of a buffer. Some space between us to keep a clear head.
In order to do so, I voice aloud the beliefs I must have. The truth I can’t lose sight of.
“I don’t want you,” I mutter, eyes shutting. “I don’t want you because Ihateyou.”
“Look at me, Miss Oliver.”
“You ruined my life. You ruined her life!”
“Miss Oliver. Open your eyes.”
“I HATE YOU!” I scream, conviction blooming in my voice. My eyes snap open to sear him with a glare that’s twenty years in the making. Air puffs in and out of me erratically, my chest heaving. “You’re a murderer! You killed my mother!”
He gives no reaction either way, though hisinflection changes. The taunting humor vanishes. His monotone returns. “Is that what you think?”
“I don’t think—I know! You’re Valentine, right? It was all you!”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Josalyn Webber, my mother,” I spit at him, taking several angry steps back toward the glass. “You killed her in cold blood. You killed her because she wouldn’t have you. She wanted nothing to do with you!”
His jaw clenches. “That’s not true.”
“It is true!” I yell. “IT IS TRUE!”
“You are a lost girl,” he snipes, stuffing his hands in his pockets as if in restraint. “You are more foolish than I ever thought you could be.”
“Josalyn didn’t want you. Isn’t that true?” I ask, eager to goad him. I crack a smirk at him. “Just like I don’t want you, Theron. I’ve never really wanted you. Josalyn wrote you to tell you to leave her alone. I read the letter. I saw it in your closet. Why couldn’t you just leave her alone?”
“NO!” he booms suddenly. Rage flashes in his dark eyes. “You have no clue what the fuck you’re talking about!”
“Are you angry, Professor? Why would that be? Because someone’s finally calling you out? Are you really surprised I’m here? That I did what I’ve been doing? Guess what?Youcreated me.”
His nostrils flare as he glares at me through the glass wall.
I’m putting on a show, acting defiant and petulant. But the smirk on my face is nothing more than a disguise for the turmoil raging inside me. I’d quiver on the spot if I hadn’t thrown myself into the role I have. I’d be a mess on the floor if I didn’t cling to strategy.
What I want out of riling him up, I’m not sure.
Maybe if I stall long enough, some kind of opening might come…
Professor Adler lets my accusations fester in the heavy silence. He seems to be deep in his own mental calculations, drinking every part of me in.
Then he steps toward the left, walking over to the wall.
I watch in shock as he undoes a latch that’s attached to the limestone. It’s what connects the glass barrier. He unlocks it with a key, then nudges it aside.
It glides out of the way like a glass sliding door.