Chapter 277

“It was always real. I never lied to you. I never once played games with you. You had me even when I didn’t want it to be so. You changed everything for me … and you ripped down all my defences until I was nothing. You made me love you, you complete fucking idiot, and then you destroyed me. I did nothing wrong. I never deserved that.” I wail at him, in frustration, heartbreak and despair. Angry that it all comes down to this. That he thought I was playing him all that time. That his cruel wanker side was on the full offensive because he believed I was nothing more than a manipulating whore out to get his money, his power, or maybe just his heart, so I could become his puppeteer. Just a devious gold digger in his eyes who came with a bad reputation for being just that.

He has no clue how wrong he was, how deep my feelings for him ran or how for the first time in my life I tried to be someone else. Someone who could hold her head a little higher. I wanted to be better than I was.

“I know that now. I do, and I’m sorry. I don’t know how else to say that to you.” Alexi seems completely submissive once more, backing down at my spew of pain. Shell-shocked in his posture and just not his usual confident sadistic self. Every part of him is almost screaming at me that this is not an act.

My head and heart are torn at whether I should believe this.

I don’t know this man in front of me right now, and my head is swimming and reeling and knocking everything out of whack. I’m just engulfed with so much hostile energy as it brims up inside of me, needing a release. I can’t trust him. Anytime I do he flips me upside down and crushes my soul and I shouldn’t believe him.

Maybe because of the climactic emotional breakdown followed by an overly majestic orgasm at this man’s hands … I’m now suffering a pent-up release of everything all at once and it’s manifesting in sheer rage. Bubbling up like an explosive volcano and I have so much desire to smack him around his stupid head with my shoes.

Alexi silently stares at me as though he has no clue how else to be, or maybe this is part of his game. His plan.

Fuck knows what this even is anymore. I don’t know.

My internal fear and chaos erupt beautifully, unable to hold it in. All the memories and thoughts, conflicting and confusing facts. I push off from my corner, stand tall and come at him with all the fire and fight that dragged me out of those dirty London streets so long ago.

“You’re a liar … you are a fucking liar. I was there. I remember all of it. You don’t do that to someone you love. You don’t treat people the way you treated me and then tell them it’s because you loved them. You don’t fucking come back from all of that with a little sorry.” I’m seething and spitting teeth, unable to conceal my fury anymore. Hating that his excuses are to justify what he did to me.

Nothing justifies what he did. He can never understand the depth of what he put me through. There’s a permanent black hole in my soul that is devil shaped and nothing in the world can fix that.

It’s better to be angry at him because rage stops the weakness in me from believing his sweet little words and love confession. It stops me being a dumb hopeful and falling for his bullshit all over again. It stops me hoping that I can ever mean something to anyone and being stupid enough to get sucked in.

“I can explain.” He starts but I don’t let him finish. That inner psycho gaining strength. So not doing this shit with him again.

“EXPLAIN!! EXPLAIN WHAT?? That you are a twisted sadist who screwed me over in every way he could and now tries to pull this shit on me? That I’m supposed to believe you now, because for some reason, you decided to stop playing with my emotions? Am I supposed to swoon at your feet and forget it all because … Oh, my Lord … the sadistic prick actually loves me?” I spit it at him, tears clouding my vision from the sheer force of everything coming out. Voice breaking but I don’t care. He has me stripped naked and raw in all my painful glory and now he can suffer the consequences of that.

It’s nothing but a game. I repeat this to myself like a mantra and try to block out the way his soulless eyes are devouring me.

“It wasn’t like that. It was … complicated.” Alexi looks around him uncomfortably, uneasy at his lack of control of the outcomes, but I don’t care. I want him to feel awkward and uneasy. He has no clue what it’s like to not be the man moving the chess pieces. The one in control. It’s nothing compared to how he made me feel for months of my life.

I want him to feel overwhelmed and out of his depth. If I could wound him the way he has wounded me in the past I would, but I know I don’t have it in me.

I’m not the girl I used to be. He changed that. I can’t be the cold bitch I once was, even if he deserves it.

“You’re a prick. A fucking arsehole of epic proportions. A sadistic wanker who deserves me to kick him in the balls and then some!” I yell at him, stabbing at the lift button with my heel in my hand in a bid to get away from this and him. I know it’s pointless, he still has his hands holding the doors open wide so I can’t go anywhere, and it angers me even more. Keeping me here against my will. Erupting at him with sheer frustration.

“Let them go!” I snap at him, swinging my shoe at one of his hands to dislodge him, but he stands his ground and penetrates me with those pale greys as though trying to climb inside my head. His demeanour returning to calm, cool, deadpan as he thwarts my escape. Alexi is steeling himself and closing down, I guess he knows a fight is coming, and maybe I prefer that to this other version of him.

There are wet rivers on my cheeks from tears that have again started falling, and I suddenly feel completely pathetic. That he so easily destroys me, even when I’m fighting him tooth and nail. He destroyed Camilla Walters and turned her into an emotional wreck with no ability to hold her shit together anymore.

“I’m not letting you walk out of my life again.” He grits his teeth, pushing out his words in a more sinister way than is appropriate for love confessions, and I glare at him. Seeing only the monster in his midst. Knowing that even with sweet words in his mouth, he has an ability to wreak havoc on my world.

“I’m not your prisoner and I am not listening to this emotional bullshit. I know what you are doing, and it won’t work this time. I won’t let you fuck me up any more than you have done, and I won’t stick around to become your plaything once again. If you think this will shackle me to your bed, you are sooo wrong. SO FUCKING WRONG!” I swing again and this time Alexi dodges my shoe by lifting his hand and hold the door higher, so it won’t slide even an inch.

It just triggers my psychotic side.

“This isn’t like that, I’m being honest. Nothing else. I’m not trying to hurt you or play games with you. I want you here because you want to be, not because I can keep you here.” Alexi dodges another jab at his hand, one more carefully and venomously aimed, for maximum stabbing and he finally let’s go of the one door completely, still wedging them open, nonetheless. His large body against one side so they won’t close. My efforts are so futile it’s just fuelling my fire.

“Well then, let them fucking go because I want to leave. I don’t want anything to do with you ever again.” I screech at him and this time hurl my shoe impulsively at his head in complete desperation. He ducks fast, like a bloody panther with those demonic reflexes of his, so it flies over the top of him. He spins his head to look at where it went before snapping back to me. Furious frowns across that normally pretty face, coming back to throw shade at me.

“Really?” It’s that sarcastic, disapproving wanker tone of his I hate, and I forget everything else and aim better this time. I have another shoe and that face deserves a heel embedded in the centre of it.

Won’t be so fucking pretty if he is sporting a stiletto nose job, will he?

All sense and maturity die a sudden death. The second shoe flies at his face and he has to be lightning fast to get out of the way, finally releasing the doors when trying to save himself from my missile to his head.

“Yes, really!” I yell after him, throwing my bag too, aiming for the back of his skull with a kill shot for good measure, as the idiot is too good at dodging my throws. Now he has me furious and logic is winging past his face with my handbag. I want to physically hurt the tosser.

I’m so enraged that he thinks he can do this whenever he wants, without consequence. As though he owns my heart, body and soul, and I am nothing more than a pawn in Alexi’s game of chess. I hate that he thinks he has a right to pull me around this way and doesn’t give a shit what it does to me.

“For fuck’s sake, Cam!” Alexi bolts to the side as my bag flies beautifully past his left cheek, almost grazing him, but sadly not. I sigh loudly at how annoyed that makes me, smug though that he has had to pull back and the doors begin to slide shut while he gets out of harm’s way. Finally set loose and the lift can get me the fuck out of here.

They are closing too fast for him to get back to them in time, and as I watch the space condense to an almost closed wall of steel, I suddenly realise I threw my much-needed attire into his fucking apartment, like an idiot. Shoes and bag containing money, bank cards, ID, passport and anything else a fleeing girl would need to start a new life.

I can hardly run around New York in nothing but a sheer dress, and I don’t even have any underwear on.

Jesus Fucking Christ!

Groaning inwardly, I stare at my bare feet and skimpy dress and realise I’m not going anywhere unless I want to sample New York living in practically no clothes when snow is moving in. I’m not brave enough to walk around in the club barefoot, let alone the streets. This was such a dumb move on my part.

I just had to throw my shit at him, didn’t I? Good move, Camilla, fucking epic.

“Arghh,” I growl out, pissed at myself, slamming a hand between the doors as they almost shut on me, leaving just an inch, and push them apart with a little more vavoom than is necessary. Seething inwardly that I have foiled my own escape by impulsive throwing. I don’t hesitate and pull myself as tall as I can, jutting my chin out and pulling out my stubborn side.

Wanker can fuck right off; I’m only getting my things and walking back in here.

I march right past him and his bewildered look, towards my bloody bag, intent on grabbing what I need and leaving him for good. If I’m planning on hightailing it into the night, shoes are a must … a bag with money is a second. Maybe even a jacket or a bra now that I’m no longer hurtling out so he doesn’t see me go. I can pack properly and throw him a big ‘fuck you’ as I saunter out.

He can’t keep me here, and I may as well grab some heavy objects to throw at him on my departure, you know, to ensure he won’t block the lift doors again. Maybe that massive, heavy stone vase thing outside my bedroom door. Certain that might actually knock him out.

“Don’t look so pleased … I needed that and I’m only coming in to get them.” I snap at him as I stalk past, head up and not caring one bit that my boobs are bouncing around unsupported in a very loose dress. I never dressed for a great escape, and as I storm in, I think I might need a rethink on my running attire. Possibly a suitcase on wheels to yank behind me. Maybe trousers and some flats. It’s cold out there after all.

As I stoop to pick up my scuffed Louis Vuitton bag, it dawns on me that I’m not quaking in my boots anymore. I’m upset, I’m seething, furious, but my fear has dissipated. The inner terror that he would morph into some demon and chain me to his bed has completely evaporated around me. I guess him trying at round two of fucking with my head does that; pulls my self-preservation back into the forefront. It’s a weird feeling, to suddenly stop trembling and realise I still have a hell of a lot of fight left in me yet.

Camilla isn’t dead. Not really.

As I turn, I catch Alexi standing idly inside the apartment behind me, watching me with that deadpan expression, and I realise there has been an almighty shift in him. No intimidating me with scowls and deathly stances. No coming at me, restraining me or manoeuvring me to bend to his will. Instead, he is casually standing, waiting to see how I’ll proceed, almost unsure about what else he should do. It’s obvious enough that I take note.