“I never lied to her. Right from the beginning, she knew my real name. And if we’d had more time that night, she would have known what I did, too.”
“That right there is a fucking lie. You were involved with her long before that night. Why claim otherwise?”
“So you just walked about to a random woman, sight unseen, and decided to protect her with your life? I call bullshit. Why?”
“She was an itch I needed to scratch.”
This time, Camila is the one that leans forward and stops the recording. She falls back into her armchair like she’s been slapped.
“Who should I believe, Isaak?” she asks softly. “Both of you, or neither? Those are the only options, as far as I can see.”
“Camila—”
“Did you, by the way?” she interrupts. “Scratch your itch?”
It’s not in my nature to offer her an apology. All I can give her is an explanation. “I thought at the time that’s what you were.”
“So you fucked me in the bathroom of a restaurant to satisfy the ‘itch,’” she says. “You would have kicked me to the curb right afterward. Except that Maxim saw us together, misread the situation, and assumed I was important to you. And that’s the entire reason he tracked me down in the first place. From the very beginning, I’ve always been in the middle of the two of you. Before I even knew it.”
“I meant what I said on that tape,” I tell her. “I never lied to you.”
“But how the hell would I even know that?” she counters. “I am your prisoner, not your wife. You’ve taken everything from me, and still, you expect me to be grateful for it.”
Cami stops and waits for me to answer.
I say nothing. She wants things I can’t give her right now.
“You’re using me the same way that Maxim is, Isaak,” she continues. “You’re using me.”
“We do what we have to in order to protect what matters.”
“And for you, that’s the Bratva?”
“For me, that’s the Bratva,” I tell her, without bothering to deny it.
“For me, it’s my family,” she says, and suddenly, I can hear all the emotion she’s kept from her tone during this conversation, heavy and troubling. “And I choose them. I want to go back home. I don’t want to be a part of this anymore.”
“I’m afraid it’s too late for that now.”
She bursts to her feet and starts pacing around the room. Her green eyes spark with anger, but from her controlled breathing, I can she’s trying hard to maintain a level of calm.
“I will never stop fighting you,” she says, turning on me.
I get to my feet and approach her slowly. “I know,” I say. “But it’s not because I married you against your will. It’s not even because I’m keeping you in my home.”
She raises her eyebrows in sarcastic disbelief. “It’s not?” she asks incredulously. “Well then, Doctor Vorobev, tell me your diagnosis.”
“It’s because you hate that you have feelings for me. And since you can’t control that, you fight and rage and yell and throw insults. Because that’s the only way you can think of to feed your conscience. To keep pretending that you are who you think you are.”
“I don’t have feelings for you.”
“I didn’t force you to fuck me, Camila,” I throw at her. “You did that all by yourself.”
She reels back and turns away so that I can’t see her face. “You took advantage,” she says. “I was vulnerable—”
“So vulnerable that you slept with me while you believed yourself to be engaged to another man?”
I know I’m being harsh. Maybe even unfair. But I can’t help it.
She asked for this.
She wanted the truth, and that’s exactly what I’m giving her.
“I… I shouldn’t have,” she says, her tone faltering slightly. “I should never have… have let you…”
“Let me what?” I demand. “Manipulate you? I did nothing of the sort. You’ve always been attracted to me, Camila. From the first moment you laid eyes on me.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because I saw it in your eyes that night when you looked at me. It’s the reason I approached you—because you looked like you were trapped.”
“I may have been trapped, but I didn’t need you to save me.”
“Maybe not, but I made the decision to. And you didn’t exactly push me away.”
“Would you have listened if I had?” she counters. “You take what you want—isn’t that right, Isaak? You take what you want and you don’t give a damn what anyone else thinks or wants or loves. You just take, and take, and take.”
“You’re many things, Camila. But a coward is not one of them. So stop acting like one.”
She lunges forward and shoves me in my chest. It doesn’t do a thing.
“You think I’m the type of man who’ll force himself on a woman?” I continue. “Look at me now and tell me you honestly believe that.”
She doesn’t say a word.
“I approached you because I knew you wanted me to. I fucked you because I knew you wanted me to. And every other time we fucked, it was because your pussy was soaking wet for me.”
She cringes back, but she can’t deny any of it. I take a step forward. I expect her to retreat, but she’s rooted to the spot, scouring over my words as though she’s still trying to make sense of them.
“You say I’m a monster. If that’s what you believe, Camila, if that’s really what you think, then I’ll make you a promise right now.” I take another step forward until we’re practically nose to nose. “I will never have sex with you again. I will never kiss you, touch you, make you come screaming my name. I will never even look at you… if you can look me in the eyes and tell me that’s what you want.”
Something flashes across Cami’s face. She doesn’t believe me. It probably has something to do with my proximity. This is the peak of the fight, and that has always been the part right before I grab her, kiss her, make her mine.
There’s excitement trembling just beneath the disbelief. She’s expecting us to take the same route we always do.
But she’s underestimating my sense of control.
I can resist anything when I have to.
Including her.
“I’ll leave you now,” I say, turning away.
“You—” She breaks off almost immediately.
I turn to her with raised eyebrows. “Yes?”
“You’re leaving?”
I have to resist the urge to sneer viciously. “I’m leaving,” I confirm. “I meant what I said, Camila. You think I’m manipulating your vulnerability by exploiting your attraction to me? Then I’ll stop.”
She twitches suddenly. A spasm like words are trying to force their way out of her and she won’t let them free.
“That is what you want… isn’t it?”
Her eyes go wide, and then the anger’s back. Quick as a flash. “You want me to prove you right, don’t you?” she hisses. “You want me to beg you to stay? Beg you to fuck me?”
“No one ever said anything about begging.”
“Attraction is not love.”
“I never said it was.”
“Then why do you and everyone else keep implying that I—” She cuts herself off.
“Implying what?”
“Nothing.”
“You think everyone else is trying to manipulate you, too?” I ask, leaning into her anger. “You think this is all some complex conspiracy to make you want to stay with me?”