Chapter 349

“You do realise I was as drunk as you, I can just handle it a little better. I didn’t take advantage of anyone, and I sure as hell didn’t betray your trust. It’s fucking marriage, Cam, without a prenup. I have way more to lose than you in this. Think about that while accusing me of shit.” He rages, yelling this time. That face snarling, frowning, and looking incredibly hostile with a tense jaw and lowered brows.

“Sure. Like I believe that!” I toss back angrily. Wiping my face and refusing to accept anything he says.

“You were the one with your hands down my pants, your tongue in my ear, begging me to make it official. You were the one who dragged me into the first chapel we came to, and you were the one who hauled me out the side door to consummate our marriage on Elvis’s car right after. I’m the idiot who threw all caution to the wind and married you, exposing everything I own. I lose half if you divorce me now. I think if anyone was fucking coerced then it was me!” He throws his toothbrush at the bed, obviously needing some way to vent and turns on his heel, body bristling for a physical release and storms off towards the bathroom door.

“You’re lying. You wouldn’t be that dumb, and me. Why would I do that? Why would I tie myself to you after dating you for five minutes of my life? I didn’t even want to get married …EVER!!” I crawl back to the bed, pull myself up on shaky limbs and slump down on the edge as I come level with it again, burying my face in my hands as everything crumbles around me.

I just can’t function at the moment.

You cannot annul a marriage if you made a point of screwing your betrothed right after the ceremony, and Alexi won’t be up for any sort of dissolving of this, judging by how he’s reacting. My head’s racing with all of this and how stupid I was to have this kind of faith in him.

“You said you wanted to untie my hands and let me deal with that Marianne bitch once and for all. That if I couldn’t, you would.” He comes storming back, throwing more words at me venomously. Clearly not done with this either.

I jerk my face up to look at him, now standing framed at the bathroom door, looking upset, angry, a furrowed brow, clenched jaw and narrowed eyes that are almost black with his swirling emotions. Body tense. He’s a little dishevelled compared to the happy mood he woke me up in. He looks hurt through and through, and even this mad and devastated at the situation I find myself in, it eats at me guiltily. He is bristling, stiff and ready to fight. Like he might just go kick someone in the head thirty times and then stomp on their lifeless body some.

My face just feels numb and I’m sickened that I would be this dumb. That we would both be this dumb. He’s right. No prenup for someone with his wealth and power is insane, but then again, he isn’t against snapping my neck should I dare to ask for a divorce. In his world women who know as much as I do, do not get to drag you to divorce court to claim any of your finances.

“Why would you agree if that’s why I said I wanted to marry you?” I bawl at him in utter desperation, hoping this is all some vague joke or a dream. Maybe I just haven’t woken up fully.

If it’s real though, Alexi had to have his own motives. Because he is Alexi, and he obviously saw a means to an end with my stupid garbled drunken plan. He may have found mine laughable but doesn’t mean he didn’t have his reasons. He does nothing in life without an ulterior motive. Always has a plan, always has a use for someone.

It’s what he does. It’s what he is.

“Because I love you and you are it for me. Whether we married now or in years to come, it was inevitable. I didn’t lie when I said I was in this with you forever, Cam. I didn’t care that you had an ulterior motive, it was beneficial because I knew you wouldn’t marry me anytime soon without one. I know you love me so I figured it would work itself out when we were sober, and marriage gave me an option we didn’t have before.” It’s a defeated low tone and I can tell there isn’t a single lie in his answer. His whole manner shifting from raw fury and yelling to this anguished, wounded response, and he tears his eyes from me to stare at the floor.

Cutting my heart open like a knife as my insides spew into my lap and I shiver involuntarily.

“That’s a sad reason to marry me.” The tears return, voice cracking and I cry softly at the hopelessness of that statement. I feel so broken and confused as reality sinks in that this is real, and this is where we are at.

I was a million miles away from being ready for this kind of step and boom, it’s done. It’s like being stabbed in the chest for so many conflicting reasons.

“It’s the truth. I can love you and be with you for the next ten years, but I wouldn’t be able to protect you the way I can as my wife. My name comes with so many boundaries. No one can touch you now. You’re Carrero. Family. Protected. My family cannot sit back and ask me to remain neutral now we have done this. She tried to abduct and murder my wife and that holds a hell of a lot more weight than it did twelve hours ago.” He moves back, leans heavily against the frame behind him. Voice so low and raspy and yet I can still hear the pain in his words from my reaction. I can’t feel remorse though, when suspicion and anger, regret and fear are circling inside of me like a venomous poison affecting every inch of my being. I am in survival mode, stuck on defensive and powerless to come down.

“So, there was a partial motive, beyond how you feel for me?” I’m clawing at myself inside, dying a little with so many crazy thoughts and one very stupid one which is hurting me above them all, even though it’s insane.

I have no memory of my own wedding day.

Whether I wanted one or not … it’s done. And I won’t ever be able to recall it one way or another. That, in itself, is like being kicked in the heart with steel toe-capped boots.

“The motive was keeping you safe. You can’t be mad about that.” His eyes come up and lock on mine, while I’m still half sprawled on the bed and clutch at sheets to pull up over my body, trembling as everything filters through and my hangover comes back into focus. Suddenly shivering with a cold growing from within me.

I inhale heavily, tears rolling down my cheek hopelessly and I just stare for a long moment. Instincts are to run, and I know I need space. Now. He needs to leave so I can think, pull my shit together.

“I don’t know how to feel right now. I’m still half drunk, majorly hung over and my head is about three seconds away from exploding. I need to process this. I need a shower, an aspirin, and an hour without looking at you to think about this.” I sniff back the torrent of tears lingering inside my head that are threatening to turn into a tidal wave of sobbing, body beginning to shake violently with shock and Alexi sighs loudly. A tense shoulder flex, a twitch of that square jaw as he visibly snorts at my request. Anger and heartache don’t go together well on him.

“Fine. I need to go see Gino anyway and make some calls. Room’s yours for an hour. Be ready for when I come back, we have to go to the casino.” He sounds clipped and cold. Directing attention off topic and pushing the details of what we are fighting about to one side.

I know he is pulling back whatever it is he is feeling and just showing me the angry side for now. I can tell he’s hurt deeply. Alexi displays pain in this way. Anger, aggression, yelling. Anytime in the past, he’s reacted like an utter cockwomble towards me for anything relating to emotion, it’s usually him in pain. He isn’t hard to fathom when you know that.

This is no different. He turns cold and mad when you hurt him. He fires what seems like hate your way, but the reality is, it’s because he loves me and the pain I inflict cuts deep. He doesn’t know how to process or display it like most humans do.

He walks forward and picks up the certificate and looks at it for a long moment with an unreadable expression before carefully laying it back on the side table, his shoulders sagging slightly and turning away from me.

“I don’t regret it. One day you might agree with me.” His words strike me right in the feels, casting a new slicing pain.

He leaves it there then turns and heads back to the bathroom to grab his phone and watch, and buttons up his shirt over all that exposed tanned muscle quickly in the mirror before turning back to me.

“Just remember … my main reason for saying yes is because I love you. That’s it. Secondary, it was to keep you safe, so maybe sit and think about that before you accuse me of fucking betrayal.” He strides out, stopping to pick up his shoes from under the nearby table and then walks around it and heads for the bedroom door to leave. Not another look my way. Just a tall, clipped posture, stealth mode and stocky walk of a man who might just go and beat someone up because he is that pissed.

I watch silently, wrapping my arms around myself while still shivering from the shock of what I woke up to.

I don’t know how to feel but I know one thing. You shouldn’t be contemplating doing a terrified runner from finding out you just drunkenly married your boyfriend of five minutes. My legs are literally jelly or I would already be hauling arse and getting the hell out of here. I feel sick and cannot begin to unravel everything going through my head.

I pull myself upright properly, determined not to sit here and dwell. I will drive myself insane if I do. I need to deal with my physical misery right now—my hangover. Get a drink, take pills, sort that shit out best I can. Think about all this once I clear my brain a little and the urge to throw up simmers from severe to subtle.

I lift my chin despite everything inside me crumbling to dust, climb unsteadily off the bed and walk purposely to the bathroom. A little fragile, swaying around as I do so.

Focus on the tasks and not the problem.

That’s what I do. When hit in the face with an epic head fuck, I push it aside, get a grip, pick myself up and get on with what I need to. Even if I throw up and cry my eyes out while getting washed.

Shower, dress, eat, get your shit together, Camilla. This is what you do. Crisis pushed aside and make yourself presentable to face it head-on once your brain catches up.

I will figure this out. I will find a resolution to this little bump in the road.

I do love him.

I just don’t know if I love being married to him.

Not like this.