"and now you're killing me softly"

•••

"He will come for you, babe; you don't have to worry about that."

Oliver let go of my face and slowly sat back down on the chair in front of me. Staring at him, I frowned.

He had not changed much; his arms featured several new tattoos, and he had practically shaved his head, but nothing was too drastic. The look in his eyes was completely different, though; he was not gazing at me like he used to.

I mumbled through the tape irritably, urging Oliver to take it off my mouth. The call had been done, and I did not see the point in muting me if he would ask questions.

I noticed this detail by the way his eyebrow was urging to rise. The years I spent gawking at his face had been beneficial after all.

He casually motioned at Christopher, who approached me and tore the duck tape with a sharp movement. My skin tingled, but it was not painful. Blinking rapidly, I turned to Oliver, encouraging him to interrogate me.

"Let me set this straight," he began, "You will only speak when you are asked something." I nodded. "Good. Now, tell me, Sabrina, why are you working under Andrew? What drew you to the job?"

"The opening did not define who I was going to work for," I stated, "I applied because my attempt at living a normal life was a disappointment. Although, it was more than I bargained for."

"And do you enjoy it?" he pressed on.

"I do."

"What about Andrew?" he inquired, "Is he a good boss?"

"You could say that," I replied, "He has his flaws, but he treats me well."

"Aw, does he?" Oliver crossed his arms over his chest, tipping his chair back. I nodded, wanting to slap the smug look off his face as he studied me, "And what's going on between the two of you, huh?"

"Nothing other than a normal, friendly relationship."

"Don't lie, Sabrina," he brought his head close to mine, "Tell me the truth."

"I am."

"You're not," he declared, "Did you forget that I can tell when you lie?"

I had, in fact, neglected that irritating talent of his. Oliver could read me like a book, and I instantly regretted being so open around him all those years ago.

"Are you romantically linked to Andrew?" His eyes defied my judgement; he was daring me to deceive him.

"I-" I started to lie again, but I concluded it was not going to favour me in any way, "Yes."

"I knew it," he chuckled.

"We are not in a relationship," I clarified, "It is complicated."

"Ah, so you're basically just fooling around," Oliver said, "Of course, that fucker could never bring himself to make anything official with anyone."

Tilting my head, I gazed at him as he stared back at me, deep in thought. Soon enough, Oliver snapped out of it and interrogated me again.

"What did you do after we broke up?" he grinned, "Or after you sent me to prison?"

"I had achieved my revenge," I smiled in return, "So I got blackout drunk and celebrated." He laughed sarcastically.

"And after that?"

"I escaped," I answered, "And then, as you already know, Andrew hired me."

"What about Hunter?" he continued, "He was a nice fellow."

Being provided with the knowledge that Oliver had been observing me made a chill run down my spine. I was so damn clueless when I swore I was being cautious.

"I loved him," I admitted, slowly, "But we both knew it was not going to work."

For once, I said the truth straightforward; Hunter and I understood that our relationship was more fun and games than deep. We loved each other, but we were overbearing. Too much for us to handle.

"And me?"

"What about you?" I stared at Oliver; his scar moved with every expression he made.

"Did you ever love me?"

As soon as the question escaped his mouth, I was ready to break every item inside the office. The audacity he could have sometimes was incredibly vexatious.

I wanted to lie with the purpose to hurt him, but I did not have it in me to do so. I had loved him as much as he had loved me until he betrayed me by murdering my mother in cold blood.

"You know I did," I said, "But I regret it since you took everything away from me." Without believing my eyes, I watched as Oliver's lips twitched slowly into a sombre expression.

"Sabrina-" He seemed remorseful, but I was not about to pity him.

"How did Christopher end up working for you?" I interrupted, quickly changing the subject. Instantly, his face turned back to the seriousness it had before as he gazed at me.

"What did I say about talking without being spoken to?"

"Answer this, and I will shut up."

"Will you, though?" Oliver said. After a long moment of silence, he beckoned Christopher to stand directly in front of me, "Tell her." I saw him hesitate, but sneaking a glance at his boss, he immediately narrated his part of the story.

"I was the one who helped him get out of prison," he began, "I'm obviously not a hotel employee; that was my cover to spy on you."

"How did you get involved in this type of business?" I inquired further, "And why are you helping him?" Leaning away from the chair, my bound hands stopped my body abruptly.

"I started as a teenager as the connection between drug dealers and their buyers," his blue eyes casually scanned me, "I was caught, and Oliver saved me from ending up in jail."

So they met the way every fresh criminal meets Oliver: when they find themselves in trouble. I assumed it had been that way since it was very ordinary.

"I owe him my life," Christopher said, "That's why I'm working under him now."

"No one works for Oliver willingly," I stated, "What did he do to you?"

"Nothing, Sabrina," he smirked, shrugging as he tucked his hands into his suit's pockets, "Sometimes you just have to analyse the situation and pick the winning side." Rolling my eyes, I sighed.

"What do you have against Andrew?" The question had been threatening to leave my lips ever since I found out about the true nature of Christopher.

Taking me as a hostage was a risk, and he had unmistakably done it seeking revenge. I swear to God, Andrew Moreno was going to be the death of me.

"I hate him."

"But, why? Do you hate him because of Oliver?"

"He ruined my business," Christopher declared, "After several of his robberies in Los Angeles, most of the dealers I was helping stopped selling their stuff in fear they would get caught." He shrugged tauntingly, "Police were circulating the streets non-stop because of him."

"And you are serving Oliver because of it," I concluded. Dammit, Andrew had too many enemies he was unaware of.

"Exactly."

"Oliver," I turned my head to look at him, "Why are you doing this?"

"I'm not answering that," he instantly stood up from the chair, "I'm afraid that is classified information; give me the duct tape."

"Oliver, wait!" I bellowed, "I know what you did to Andrew." I continued speaking rapidly, my words crashing into each other as I tried to avoid being silenced, "Tell me your part of the story; or what you are planning to do with me."

"What story?" he played dumb, cutting a piece of tape as he approached me.

"Tell me why you did it! Why did you kill his crew? Why did you murder my mother? Tell me!"

I felt tears on the edge of my eyes, but I did not allow myself to cry in front of Oliver. He was about to press the tape on top of my mouth when he abruptly stopped moving.

I looked up at him; he was laughing.

He was laughing at me.

"Why?" he said, still smiling, making a shiver run down my spine, "Why did I kill them?" With a quick gesture, he stretched his arm and seized my hair, pulling it back as he forced me to look at him, "Because I fucking knew you were going to betray me eventually, Sabrina. Of course, someone had it out for your mother at the time, so I did both of us a favour."

"How did you know?" His grip was firm, pain soaring from my scalp.

"You and your mother were as thick as thieves," he replied, "I had a feeling you were plotting against me."

"But I ran from you because you killed her," I stated, gasping through my pounding head, "You caused all of this."

"I didn't cause anything!" he yelled, "I did what I had to do for the sake of the future."

I knew he was totally insane, but this was a side of his delusion I had never seen before. Oliver had truly lost it this time, and I understood there was no way of reasoning with him. The man that had cared about me was gone, and all that remained was a shallow psychopath.

Sending him to prison was an obvious mistake; I should have locked him up in a psychiatric ward. He finally let go of my hair, my skin itching from the pulling, and he stepped back to sit on his seat.

"Now," Oliver said, "Andrew was a good friend to me, but he was not who I thought he was." He sighed, "He hasn't changed his ways since I last saw him."

"What do you mean?"

"He fell for his assistant again," he chuckled, "But you are obviously of more importance than-"

"Elizabeth Accardi," I finished the sentence, "I am familiar with her."

"They didn't last," Oliver informed me, "She was playing games with him all along."

"They are acquaintances now," I muttered to myself.

"And why do you think?" he questioned, "She broke his heart, but they both got over it eventually."

I was striving to wrap my head around the thought of Andrew being in love with anyone, but I simply could not picture it. It was weird to even consider the idea of him loving me.

Could we make it work? We already lived together, but how would our changed relationship affect our daily lives?

I bit back a smile; I knew what Andrew would answer to that.

There would be a lot of kissing involved.

"What if he does not come?" I changed the subject out of nowhere, avoiding imagining things that were impossible to believe.

"You'll stay with me," Oliver declared.

His response made it clear that I had to find a way to escape, one way or another. I was not going to let him manipulate me and, if I did not leave, I knew it was bound to happen.

"He will, though."

"How can you be so sure?" I raised an eyebrow in interest.

"I just am," he shrugged, "I know how stubborn he can be." I scoffed at his comment.

So Andrew had always been as unreasonable as he was now. If he had his mind set on something, he would never listen to whatever others have to say until it was entirely out of his head.

"But-"

"What was that?" Christopher suddenly disrupted the conversation.

"The fuck do you mean?" Oliver moved his head to look at him, his face scrunched into a perplexed expression.

"Shush!" he hissed, and everyone fell silent. The three men turned towards the door as they all listened intently, their breathing barely making a sound.

I bent forward, trying to catch a part of whatever they were hearing. After a few moments of complete stillness, Oliver sighed.

"You interrupted us for nothing," he rolled his eyes, "Where were we?" I opened my mouth to reply until a crash echoed through the building. "What the-"

Oliver did not have time to finish his swearing as the noises from outside got louder, approaching the office we were in. By analysing the sounds, I managed to figure out a fight was breaking out. The shuffling of bodies and grunts of pain seeped through the thin walls as the battle progressed.

The men were about to approach the exit to the corridor until silence took over the other side again. They stood still, staring at each other in bewilderment.

Before anyone could react, the door was violently kicked open by a brown hiking boot. Andrew stomped into the room, his fists raised in front of him with bloody knuckles, ready to hit whoever dared interpose him.

"Where the hell is that fucker?"