“What was your intention?” she asks.
“I told you already: I couldn’t walk away.”
She sighs, looking down at her plate to avoid looking at me. “You know, Isaak, I’ve spent so many nights thinking about that dinner. That conversation. Everything that followed…”
I expect her to continue, but she doesn’t.
She snaps her mouth shut. Whatever she was going to say never passes through her lips.
It drives me fucking crazy. But I’m not about to wrestle the thoughts from her head. Not yet, at least. No matter how badly I want to.
“It’s a beautiful view,” she says, looking out over the river with a resigned sigh.
I nod. “It really is.”
But I’m not looking at the river.
I’m looking at her.
16
Camila
“Did you enjoy the meal, ma’am?”
The ma?tre d’ stands between us with his hands clasped together, looking downright nervous about my verdict.
“The food was fantastic,” I assure him. “Honestly, one of the best meals I’ve had in my life.”
His answering smile is both relieved and thrilled. “Oh that’s wonderful to hear, ma’am. Thank you. Thank you so much.”
He gives Isaak an awkward little bow and backs off, facing us the whole time. Only when he’s on the thin bridge that leads back to the main restaurant does he turn to walk away.
“Is it always like that for you?” I ask Isaak when he’s gone.
“Like what?”
“People fawning all over you. Or trembling with fear at the thought that you might not have fully enjoyed yourself at their establishment.”
“Yes, pretty much.”
“Does it feel good?”
He raises his eyebrows, as though this is the first time he’s ever been asked to think about it. “It doesn’t feel like anything.”
I frown. “Okay, fine. What does make you feel something?”
He smirks. “Is this an interrogation or a psych evaluation?”
“You’ve asked me a lot of questions you have no right to ask,” I point out. “It’s only fair that I get to ask a few of my own.”
“I don’t usually concern myself with what’s fair.”
“Why am I not surprised?”
“You know, I understand why you see me as the villain. But people are so much more than just one thing.”
“How very philosophical of you,” I scoff, not trying very hard to keep the sarcasm to a minimum.
Maybe I ought to try harder, though. If I stand any chance of getting what I want from him—aka, freedom—it’ll only happen if I rein in my resentment. If I charm him. If I get inside his head.
The problem is, I’m certain he’s trying to do the same thing with me.
“You don’t agree?”
I sigh. “Actually, I do agree.”
“You just don’t want to concede that I may be more than the big bad wolf.”
“You’re definitely the big bad wolf,” I correct. “In my story, at least. One of many.”
He regards me with a cool gaze. “And Maxim? How does he factor into your story now?”
“I don’t even know how to begin answering that question.”
“Because you still have feelings for him?”
I tense instantly. I thought I had feelings for Alex. Maybe I even believed I loved him. But now, I wonder if that was just the lie I needed to tell myself in order to justify marrying him.
Jo March would never have compromised her principles like that.
But I did.
I did it shamelessly.
“Camila?”
I look up and realize Isaak is watching me with his sharp blue eyes, trying to decipher every emotion that flits across my face, trying to read the secrets behind my eyes.
And he’s getting closer and closer with every minute I spend in his company.
“Alex gave my life a little bit of normalcy,” I admit. It answers the question without really answering the question. “I was so lonely. It had been years of isolation. I had a job, but no real friends. The only people I could really speak to were Bree and Eric. And I never got to see them. So when Alex showed up… Let’s just say it was easy to pretend like I was just an average girl getting to know an average boy.”
Isaak snorts with derision.
I glare at him. “I’m sharing something vulnerable and that’s your reaction?”
He holds up his hands. “Pardon me. Just the thought of Maxim masquerading as an ‘average’ guy.”
I almost smile. “Point taken. I guess he wasn’t the most average of guys. For one, he was wealthier than any man I’d ever been out on a date with.”
“Present company excluded.”
I roll my eyes, but I can’t exactly argue with him. Isaak’s manor alone is absurd.
“It’s ridiculous, really. I look back at those early days and I see things in a totally different perspective.”
“You mean you see him for the spineless mudak he is?”
I ignore that. “I felt like such a fraud. Masquerading under a different name, giving people my fake life story. That’s why I never allowed myself to get close to anyone here. It felt disingenuous.”
“So you isolated yourself?”
“I had to. The moment I got close to anyone, I felt like the only way the friendship could progress is by telling them the truth. And I couldn’t do that. My dating life was the same way. There were a lot of guys who asked me out, but I turned them all down. Eventually, I just became the loner girl with no one to turn to.”
“So what was different with him?”
“He refused to take no for an answer,” I admit. “He was persistent. Adamant. I thought it was charming then. Now, I know the real reason why.”
“He should never have involved you in this,” Isaak smolders. “I will make sure he pays for it.”
“By doing what?” I ask sharply. “I know enough about your lifestyle to know what you mean by that. But if you’re going to hurt anyone, please don’t use me as the reason.”
“Some people deserve to be punished.”
I sigh and shake my head. “Alex had the same kind of ego,” I say. “He thought he got to mete out right and wrong. I never understood it.”
“The Bratva is a totally different world, Camila. A totally different reality.”
“I get that. I just don’t want any part of it.”
“I think it’s a little late for that.”
Footsteps clomp over the bridge to our secluded patio. “Can I offer either of you a mug of hot chocolate?” asks one of the waiters, brandishing a silver tray.
“None for me,” Isaak scowls. “Bring me a whiskey neat.”
“Too feminine for you?” I jab at him. “I’ll take some, please. Thank you very much.”
The server pours me a mug of steaming chocolatey goodness. I take a deep breath of the fumes. My sweet tooth has always been my downfall, my Achilles heel. And true to form, the first sip leaves me moaning.
“Good?” Isaak asks with a chuckle on the edge of his voice.
“Orgasmic. That’s just liquid chocolate.”
Isaak smiles.
I change my answer—that smile might just be my true Achilles heel. Which is why I look away immediately so that I don’t get drawn in.
Sweets are an addiction.
Isaak is an obsession.
“What was the plan?” Isaak asks, picking up the thread of the conversation where we left off. “After you got married.”