"Stop..." I say as he tucks his lips closer to my neck with a strong alcohol scent, resisting my pushes against his body. In the corner of my eye I notice the office door begins opening slowly and Tristan creeps out behind him. Wrath fills his body...
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I shook myself out of shock, gripping the painting in my hands with dear life. "You..you're alive?" Oliver walks closer to me reaching to touch my face and I step backward, letting myself slip out of the grasp of death.
"Ye..yes." He says dropping his hand to the side of him. "I came back for you."
"You should have gone back for Aaliyah. Maybe she still actually cares about you. I-I actually can't wrap my mind around this right now. As for why you never came to tell me you were alive, I'll let you keep that sorry ass excuse to yourself. I have a deadline right now, Oliver." I start walking ahead, feeling tears gather at the bottom of my eyes.
He slips a small note into my hand as I pass him, kissing me lightly on the cheek. "Meet me tonight if you want the truth." He slithers and I glance at him one last time before tucking the note into my bag.
As soon as I was right in front of the stairway entrance, I tried not to let the tears ruin my makeup as I laid my back against the cold wall for a moment.
I pushed myself up. Forcing the tears back into my eyes before I opened the door open with my shoulder. Tristan is seated on the stairs, foot-tapping rapidly as I burst through the door. "Wren. Oh my god, I thought you got caught or something."
He rushes towards me cupping my face with both hands. "I.."
"You look fucking terrified." He sighs before grabbing the painting and loosening his tie. "Let's talk in the sprinter." I nod at him numbly before following him down the stairs. He ducks through a side exit after a few flights revealing a parking garage. He wiggles keys out of his pocket unlocking a black Mercedes van. As I open one of the back doors he places the painting on top of another few they must have stolen in different exhibits.
"Damn," I say realizing how important the cargo we have right now is. I close the door and get into the passenger seat before waiting for Tristan to get in. My hands shake as I set the purse in my lap kicking the heels off. Tristan climbs into the front seat before pulling off. He glances over at my face repeatedly before I break down into tears.
"Something happened. What the fuck happened, Wren. What's making you cry like that? We're not even 20 kilometers away yet."
I choke on my words, "Yo-yo-your brother. He's alive. I saw him. He approached me. I don't know what the fuck is going on." I wipe the tears from my eyes looking over at Tristan's mouth agape.
"There's no way."
"Why would I lie about this? He stood behind me while I was taking that shit," I point behind us with a tear falling down my cheek, "And told me he came back for me like I would be fucking appreciative. He-he has no clue what we've been through."
"Wren, I saw him with blood gushing out of his stomach. You're telling me he was able to recover and come back home in time to meet us at MFA Boston? How could he possibly know?" Tristan turns to look at me as he continues driving, eyes becoming red with frustration.
