Chapter 5

I gawp at the angry, definitely Alexi Carrero devil tone that threw those words in my face. It’s almost laughable.

“Charming. Haven’t completely changed then, have you?” I cross my arms over my chest and scowl at him with a shake of my head. Simmering with a temper on the verge of breaking loose once again. “From love to whatever that was.” I point out blatantly, waving a finger at his face and nodding as though to point out his tone.

Alexi looks like he might strangle me. There is no other way to describe his erratic expression and heavy exhale.

“Frustration! Because you are one of the hardest women to communicate with, I have ever met. Camilla, I… Love… You. No games, no motives, no fucking anything. No manipulation or underhanded ulterior motives. I love you. And that’s it. Now stop storming around and listen to me. Believe me when I say I want you in my life. Not for money, nor sex, nor this club, but because I want you and want to be with you!”

It’s semi-yelled at me in a harsh tone that is more befitting of him telling off one of his minions than any remorseful sweet nothing, but in that, I can tell it’s not a practised play or a mouthful of horse shit. He isn’t acting. He’s pissed that his confessions are being treated as lies, and he is trying like crazy to keep his cool while that hot Italian temper kicks off.

This is probably the most honest response I have seen in him yet. One I actually believe in.

Maybe.

I don’t know how that makes me feel. Faced with what might be the truth.

My head and heart are in chaos, and I’m so consumed with anger and pain right now as a flood of conflicting thoughts and feelings fight with one another. When it comes to this man, it’s no wonder I’m in a hell of a mess. Nothing with him is straightforward or ever has been. Staring at his face in a suspended sort of mood. Unsure what to say to that. I sigh and let my mouth run loose. It’s always been its biggest flaw.

“You had me. I stood right there… and you let me believe I was nothing.” I croak as tears return at my words, raking up memories I should leave in the past where they belong. I point to the blank part of the wall by the kitchen, with a backwards glance over my shoulder, to where I stood on that drunken fateful night. The wall is marked with a tiny slight indent to where my skull met it, and I shudder at seeing it, even though I have passed it for weeks on end without a second thought.

He is under my skin tonight.

The night I held a gun to my head and pulled the trigger. I wanted to die because of this man right here, trying to play off all that as nothing because he now wants what I offered him back then.

My heart lets loose, pent-up tears and wracking agony as the memory of his rejection and my failed attempt to end it all floods through me, sobbing returning with a vengeance as it hits home that he isn’t lying. Alexi is telling the truth.

I can’t forgive what he did to me to get to this point.

He cares about me?

Why couldn’t he have cared before he destroyed me?

“I know.” He at least sounds remorseful, eyes on mine and voice low. Once again, losing all that hostility, guilt seeping through so that even I can recognise it, as weird as it is to see in his expression. Sombre expression, a slight frown over soft eyes, stormy and dark in colour for a change.

Alexi has regrets. It’s there, on show and seems very real. After all, the king of cruelness has a conscience, but all it does is twist the knife deeper into my already bleeding heart.

This is all too sad for words.

“I told you… I said those three little words to you.” I can barely get my voice out coherently amid the gulping tears and emotional blubbering pulling me apart so quickly. The hopelessness of all of this when so much hurt has come first.

It all feels so empty. After all, this, to finally see something genuine from him when we are at a place where I will never be able to forgive him.

“I know.” Alexi no longer looks controlled or cocky. He seems hurt, sorrowful and intent on gazing into my tear-filled eyes. A softness to him I have seen in short moments these past few weeks and only now realise maybe they were real.

“Why now… after all that? Why, when I’m too afraid to let you close, do you decide I’m worthy of something more?” It’s desperation for answers and a broken heart torn in two. The despair of a confession coming too late.

You can’t fix our kind of tragedy, even for love.

Alexi steps towards me, and I step back. A clear signal I don’t want him near me, and he relents. Stopping himself and moving away instead to give me space, the flicker of pain evident as his eyes dip to avoid me for a second. A show of genuine emotion.

Who knew he was capable of such things? Capable of showing me he is human, after all.

It makes the ache grow, spreading from my stomach to every limb, and even my face trembles with my agony.

“You were always worthy. I screwed everything up. I was scared; I was torn. I was lost in my mistrust of you, blinded by what I believed. I was protecting myself.”

He sounds how I feel. Like he knows that this is pointless and the past is more than can be overcome.

“So, what changed?” My voice cracks, my face wet with my sadness, and I curl my arms around myself and try to give self-comfort from the internal pangs running through me. Clawing for answers to the mountain of doubts and questions within me.