And those words hit me like a slap to the face.
I hate myself when I feel the bridge of my nose start to tingle. I’m not a weak person. I’m going to find out what’s happening here.
“What’s wrong, babe?”
Walking around his desk, he says frustrated, “Nothing. Nothing at all. I mean it when I say I don’t have time. And you’re pushing the issue when there shouldn’t be one.”
I return, “Something’s not right. I can hear it in your voice. Something’s changed.” Piling up all my courage, I ask, “Are you breaking up with me?”
He smirks cruelly, “In order to break up with you, we’d need to be a thing.”
A small piece of my heart breaks off and falls to the floor, shattering on impact.
Tears sting my eyes. “I don’t understand. I thought we—” Stepping back, I shrug.
Stopping directly in front of me, he booms, “Everything that’s wrong with my life is because of you!”
My body trembles in fear. My heart races.
I’m really very frightened right this second.
“What do you want to hear, Lexi?” He sneers, “That I fucking love you? That you mean…” Gritting his teeth, he pounds on his chest with a closed fist, “…everything to me?”
My head thumps softly. Through quivering lips, I whisper, “I just want to understand you.”
He barks a humorless laugh. “Good luck with that. I can’t even figure myself out.”
He starts pacing. His jaw tics. “You know what I can tell you about me? Honestly?”
Looking up at him through blurry eyes, I nod.
I’d kill to know anything about him.
Looking at me through a scowl, he hisses, “I am not a good guy. I can tell you that for sure.” My heart sinks. He adds, “Wanna know how I know?”
Holding back my sobs, I nod and as I do, and a tear falls down my cheek. He watches that tear closely and mutters, “You choose me, a lot more tears you’ll shed. I guarantee it.”
Lifting his arms, gesturing to everything around us, his office, he explains quietly, “All this, I did for you. And you didn’t even know me.”
Hope beams somewhere deep inside me. Twitch sees it and shakes his head. “This, what I’m telling you, is not good, Lexi. So listen up. I need you to know how fucked up I am. It’s time that you knew about me.”
Moving backwards to the front of his desk, he sits on it with a sigh, “Always knew I had to make something of myself, and I was no good at school, so I had to figure out another way.” His head falls forward a little. “That’s where the drugs came into it. So my plan was to work hard, earn a lot of money, and come back for you.”
I can’t help the stutter my heart gives out.
What he says next makes my chest cave in.
“I was going to trap you,” he whispers.
Taking a step back, I breathe in a shaky breath.
He watches my feet as I move away and says, “Good girl. Finally seeing some sense.”
He’s pushing me away. I don’t know why, but I intend to find out.
I ask shakily, “W-why? And how?”
His hands grip the edge of his desk. He breathes deeply and replies on an exhale, “You were meant to be living in a shitty house, with a shitty family, and have a shitty life. I was counting on that. So when I made my first million and came back for you—” I gasp and place a hand on my chest. His eyes flash and he smirks cruelly, “Oh, yeah. I came back for you. Only, you weren’t there. But your family still was. So when I pounded on the door and asked if Alexa was home, your dad laughed at me.”
His jaw steels. “He fucking laughed at me. Here I was, a fucking self-made millionaire, and a guy with none of his own teeth left fucking laughs at me? No. Not happening.”
“What did you do to my dad?”
He leans forward and curls his lip. “Nothing the fucker didn’t deserve. I should’ve made him beg. Did you even know your brother died, Lexi? Did the asshole even try to find you to tell you?”
Walking backwards, I lose my stepping, stumble back, and fall hard on my ass.
No. No!
And Twitch just stands there. Looking down at me. Like I’m a piece of garbage.
“Who are you?”
He laughs, “Now you ask? You’ve been fucking me for months and you don’t even know my name. Who does that?”
What he says next makes me realize that as much as I tried to understand this man, I don’t know him at all. He looks me in the eyes and announces clinically, “My name is Tony Falcon. I spent my nights dreaming of a girl named Alexa who helped me when I was eight years old. She told me she wouldn’t forget my name.” His face turns harsh. “And I promised myself to make sure she wouldn’t.”
My eyes widen in stunned disbelief and my blood runs cold. The pressure in my ears builds.
No!
This is a bad dream. A fucking nightmare. This isn’t happening to me.