But now I’m forced to face a different scenario: maybe it was because she fell in love with him.
Before I can get my composure in check, I burst into her room. She springs upright on her bed.
“Jesus, Isaak!” she says. “What the hell are you doing barging into my room?”
I’m in no mood to deal with attitude, particularly not from her. “Actually, this is my fucking house. So that makes it my room.”
Her eyes narrow. She swings her legs off the bed and stands to face me. “Who pissed in your cornflakes this morning?”
“I came here to let you know that I’ve organized a shopping trip for you. Edith will accompany you. You can pick out whatever you like and put it on my card.”
She frowns, clearly trying to figure out why I look so pissed right now. “If the thought of buying me clothes is pissing you off so much, I’ll pass.”
“For once, can you not fucking argue?”
“Are you being serious right now?” she jabs, her eyes flaming. “I’m not the one who stormed in here and started yelling for no reason.”
“Believe me, I have my reasons.”
“Care to share them with me?” she counters. “So I can at least have the chance to defend myself? Although the very thought is freaking laughable.”
“What exactly is laughable about it?”
“Oh, how about the fact that you’ve taken me hostage, and I’m still expected to defend myself to you?!”
I don’t bother addressing the point directly. Instead, I cut to the chase in an icy drawl: “Have you lied to me, Camila?”
She freezes at once. The anger dissipates, replaced by… something. Fear, maybe. It just adds fuel to the fire of my suspicions.
“If I did,” she says quietly, “could you blame me?”
18
Camila
My first and only thought is…
He knows.
He knows about Jo.
He lied about giving me my privacy and he’s been listening in this entire time.
Oh God.
Oh God.
Oh God.
Isaak’s eyes blaze with anger. Steel so hot it’s blue.
He takes a step towards me, and despite myself, I back into the wall, allowing him to pin me against it.
“Who were you speaking to just now?”
My heart is thundering against my chest. What answer do I give him? Should I lie, knowing that he might already know the truth?
Or should I stick to my story and make him force it out of me?
I choose to do neither.
“Get off me!”
I try to shove him backwards, but his hands slam down against the wall on either side of my head, locking me in.
“Don’t fucking play with me, Camila.”
“You think I’m playing with you?” I demand. “I was just caught in the middle, remember? Between you and Alex.”
“Maxim.”
“He’s Alex to me!” I practically yell in his face. “He’s only Maxim to you.”
His eyes narrow to slits. “You think I’m lying.”
“It’s not like I’ve seen or spoken to him since you hijacked our wedding day,” I remind him. “It’s your word against his and I haven’t heard a word from him.”
“You sure about that?”
I blink. “What?”
“Are you sure you haven’t heard a word from him?” he enunciates venomously.
“Of course I haven’t. What the hell is that supposed to mean? What are you asking me?”
“I’m asking if that was him on the phone just now, Camila.”
And just like that, the anxiety rushes from my lungs. Joy blossoms in its place.
He doesn’t know.
Jo was just showing me her paintings from school at the end of the call. “Look, Mama,” she’d crowed, beaming proudly.
“Oh my darling, that’s beautiful. What is that pink thing on top?”
“That’s our roof, Mama,” Jo had explained. “And you and me. We live in a white house with a pink roof.”
“We do?”
“Yeah, and we have a dog, too.”
“That sounds amazing. Does he have a name?”
“Not yet. I’m waiting ‘til you come and live with us. Then we can name him together.”
I’d been forced to fight back tears. The dream of reuniting with my daughter has all but disappeared now. God only knows if it’ll ever come to pass.
We’d ended the call the way we always do. “I miss you, Mama.”
“I love you. I love you so, so much.”
Even now, I’m tearing up again. But Isaak’s fury burning right in front of my face is hard to ignore. I focus back on him.
“You think I’ve been contacting Alex?”
“Have you?”
“No.”
He doesn’t believe me. No—he doesn’t trust me. I shouldn’t give a flying fuck about that, but against all reason, I do care.
“I was talking to my sister,” I tell him. “And her boys and… and her daughter.”
He doesn’t say anything. It’s like he’s weighing my words and he finds them wanting.
“I don’t know why you’re acting like this,” I say. “Last night—”
“What about last night?” he snaps.
“We actually talked to each other,” I say. “I don’t understand what’s brought this change.”
“I won’t tolerate being manipulated.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Are you fucking serious? You’re really going to stand there and claim that I’m the one who’s manipulating you?”
He has the audacity to look me right in the eye, without the slightest bit of guilt or remorse.
“You were the one who orchestrated a ridiculous ‘date’ to coerce me into giving you intel on your cousin,” I point out. “Or was that all in my imagination?”
“Helping me take down Maxim is in your best interests.”
“Oh, that’s the spin you’re going with?” I scoff.
“It’s not spin,” he growls. “It’s the fucking truth. He’s dangerous.”
“And you’re not?” I laugh humorlessly. “Yeah, right, I forgot: you’re a regular knight in shining armor.”
“It’s all about perspective.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“One man’s trash is another man’s treasure. One woman’s villain is another woman’s hero.”
“Are you claiming to be mine?”
“I’m merely pointing out that two things can be true at the same time.”
“Your logic is beyond flawed and beyond sickening.”
“Everything is flawed. Even logic. You know why? Because people interpret everything and the people who do the interpreting are fundamentally flawed.”
“Are we back to discussing philosophy?” I ask. “Because I’m gonna be honest, I don’t think I can hack it today.”
“Shall we pencil it in for later then?” he asks, his voice dripping with condescension.
I want to scream. I don’t understand how he can act as though he’s the one occupying the moral high ground when I’m literally his captive.
“I can’t believe I ever thought you were charming.”
The words slip out of my mouth before I can stop them. His eyes widen instantly, but the fight in his expression doesn’t back down. Not by a long shot.
There’s something he wants from me.
And he hasn’t got it yet.
“You think I’m charming, is that it?”