My Landlord’s Hidden Camera in Our Bathroom - Chapter 15: Chapter 15
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The whiskey had warmed Emily Valentine's cheeks, and she draped her legs across my lap with a lazy sigh.
"Qing," she murmured, her voice thick with drink, "paint me."
I raised an eyebrow. "What kind of painting?"
She leaned in, close enough that I caught the faint scent of bourbon on her breath, and grinned—a slow, crescent-moon smile. Then her lips brushed my ear.
"Me. Nude."
I held her gaze, watching the flicker of something unreadable—hope? fear?—before it vanished.
I nodded.
Later, in the dim glow of lamplight, the black silk slid from her shoulders like water.
For the first time, with her blessing, I saw her bare—not just her skin, but the unspoken trust in the way she stood before me.
Clatter—
The nightgown pooled at her feet. Then the knife.
I couldn't help but laugh. "Still carrying that thing?"
This time, Emily didn't flinch. Her voice was steady. "I won't need it anymore, Qing. You're a good man."
"Ah, the classic 'good guy' speech?"
"No." She met my eyes. "You're different. I... like you."
She picked up the blade and set it on the chair between us. A single tear streaked down her cheek.
"I'll leave it here. With you."
I didn't move. Didn't breathe. Why was she crying?
Focus on the painting. This was the first thing she'd ever asked of me.
I'd always dismissed figure studies as beginner's work.
But now, my hands moved with a feverish precision, pouring more of myself into this than any gallery piece.
When had I fallen for her?
Was it tonight? Or the second she'd first knocked on my door?
"Qing," she murmured, "I heard models get paid."
"Usually. What's your price?"
"Not money." Her voice wavered. "What I want... you might not give."
"Try me."
She exhaled. "I want... your days. Your years."
My brush faltered.
I forced a smirk. "Are you proposing?"
"No." Her smile was sad. "Because my time... might be short."
I understood.
She knew what she was. A killer.
We'd never said it aloud. I'd pretended not to see.
But tonight, she let me see everything.
"Qing," she murmured, her voice thick with drink, "paint me."
I raised an eyebrow. "What kind of painting?"
She leaned in, close enough that I caught the faint scent of bourbon on her breath, and grinned—a slow, crescent-moon smile. Then her lips brushed my ear.
"Me. Nude."
I held her gaze, watching the flicker of something unreadable—hope? fear?—before it vanished.
I nodded.
Later, in the dim glow of lamplight, the black silk slid from her shoulders like water.
For the first time, with her blessing, I saw her bare—not just her skin, but the unspoken trust in the way she stood before me.
Clatter—
The nightgown pooled at her feet. Then the knife.
I couldn't help but laugh. "Still carrying that thing?"
This time, Emily didn't flinch. Her voice was steady. "I won't need it anymore, Qing. You're a good man."
"Ah, the classic 'good guy' speech?"
"No." She met my eyes. "You're different. I... like you."
She picked up the blade and set it on the chair between us. A single tear streaked down her cheek.
"I'll leave it here. With you."
I didn't move. Didn't breathe. Why was she crying?
Focus on the painting. This was the first thing she'd ever asked of me.
I'd always dismissed figure studies as beginner's work.
But now, my hands moved with a feverish precision, pouring more of myself into this than any gallery piece.
When had I fallen for her?
Was it tonight? Or the second she'd first knocked on my door?
"Qing," she murmured, "I heard models get paid."
"Usually. What's your price?"
"Not money." Her voice wavered. "What I want... you might not give."
"Try me."
She exhaled. "I want... your days. Your years."
My brush faltered.
I forced a smirk. "Are you proposing?"
"No." Her smile was sad. "Because my time... might be short."
I understood.
She knew what she was. A killer.
We'd never said it aloud. I'd pretended not to see.
But tonight, she let me see everything.
End of My Landlord’s Hidden Camera in Our Bathroom Chapter 15. Continue reading Chapter 16 or return to My Landlord’s Hidden Camera in Our Bathroom book page.