“Mmm,” he hums from behind me as I head for the shower to try to regain some sense.
The water cleanses me to some degree, sluicing off what just happened and bringing order back to the frenzy. It doesn’t rid me off the residual effect, though. Love. It still skulks around inside me, making me question everything over and over. We may be able to fuck, we may find that magnificent moment within our coupling, and we might even be able to kiss away hatred for a few minutes, but that doesn’t mean it’s right. He hurt me, and has little respect for who I am or what I believe. He still hasn’t apologised for his behaviour. There has been no offering of regret or guilt. I can’t be with someone who reacts the way he does, and I can’t let him control me.
“Where is your bracelet?” he asks as I walk back out of the bathroom. I turn to see him buttoning his trousers and shrugging his God-like body into the red silk again, a small crease of anger marring his perfection. It’s at Alexander’s apartment, in the plughole, along with the insanity that I left there. I turn away from him again, heading for my bag to find clothes to put on that don’t smell of him.
“In the gutter where it belongs,” I reply quietly, remembering the blood all over the bottom of that shower and the reason it was covering me in the first place. I scowl at the thought of his eyes when he strapped me to that cage as I pull out a blue shirt, then snarl at the image of him spraying come on my face as I yank out black jeans. Nothing’s changed. Nothing. “I want my money.”
There’s more silence as I dress myself, grabbing out at the other clothes dotted around and listening to the occasional snort from behind me. It’s infuriating. I know he’s amused by my irritation. I can feel it coming off him in waves, as if he’s still completely in control of what’s happening between us. He’s not, and he knows that deep down, too. He knows that what we’ve just done has only prolonged the agony. Yet, like me, it’s as if he can’t do anything with the feeling but accept it and then rally against it with hatred. He believes I slept with Alexander behind his back, which is undoubtedly driving him insane with jealousy, but he can’t deny what just happened, can he? Just like me.
Money lands on the floor by my feet and scatters as I pull on the last lace of my boots. There’s a lot of it.
“Fifty thousand dollars. The fuck was worth it, yes?”
“Fuck you.” That’s about all I’ve got as I stare at the bills in annoyance. Hurt courses through me as I pull myself upright to glare at him. He’s paying me my whored earnings? He can shove it, and himself, where the sun doesn’t shine. All he has to do is apologise and I’d relent. I know I would. I can feel it tripling my heart rate as I look at his stunning features, begging me to tell him the truth—that no one fucked behind his back, that he’s a fool for believing we would because he’s the one we both love. But that wouldn’t fix this. He has to know it himself, has to believe it with his very essence and trust me without me begging him to. Then I would forgive him. Only then would I truly know he gave a damn.
“You have earned it, my love. Take it. Run. I will not chase you any longer,” he says, waving his hand at the money and raising a brow. “Such perfection should be rewarded, hmm? And then discarded before it perpetuates more destruction.”
I stare at him for a few more moments, watching the way his smile moves around his face, imprinting the sight of him on my memory and hoping he finds the truth in his mind someday. He’s still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and I can’t help but imagine a time where this might have been different. My prince. He’s so very handsome as his lips twitch at my perusal, so blindly attractive with his sculpted brow and angled cheeks. And those eyes, still pulling me towards them even in this moment, wrenching at the love inside me and promising everything will be whole. Reminding me of the love we just made and the gentleness he’s capable of. He’s everything really, my slice of heaven, and as I watch him reach for his jacket and slip it on, I can’t even find the anger I felt ten minutes ago anymore.
“I’ll always love you,” I eventually say, softly, turning my face from him and dipping to the floor to pick up some of the money. There’s no point in arguing or carrying on with this. I’ll just take the money I need to get on with my plan. That’s all.
Grabbing hold of my bag again, I pull the straps to tighten it and then put my coat on as I hoist it up onto my back, ready to go. There’s nothing to look back at anymore. It’s done. I walk towards the door, clamping hold of the handle and levering it open, wishing like hell it didn’t have to be this way, that maybe he’d rescue us, but nothing happens to stop me moving.
There’s nothing holding me back as I navigate the corridors and aim for the stairs. All the doors are open as I wander through the hotel and find my way to the exit. Elegant, heavily patterned walls remind me of his suite. The ornate detailing of the furniture makes me smile as I think of his desk, and the final door out into the cold reminds me of so many doors where he’s offered his hand. But those hands aren’t grabbing me now. He said he wouldn’t chase me again, and this time I know he means it. I had my chance to fold in that room upstairs. I could have just pretended none of the problems existed and rocked back into his arms, fallen hopelessly in love again and forgotten, but that would only have left the deck in his hands again. He would have been the one with all the power to deal, and I won’t be that girl who hangs beneath her king. He has others for that. I am the queen of my own deck. My own suit. No one’s stopping me unless they understand that, including him.
Brisk morning sun greets me as I pull my hat onto my head and keep looking forward along the pathway. I assume this is the way back towards the airport. I’ll get a cab later, but at the moment, I need the walk to invigorate sense and rationality back into me. Also, my groin needs a little light punishment for enjoying him between my thighs so much. So I let the chafing of my jeans encourage me onwards, scanning the road for sights and sounds I’ve not seen before. I am in Berlin after all, and I’ve never been here before. It’s gorgeous in this area, surrounded by woods and hilltop mansions. People in cars and motorbikes are beginning their daily commutes, no doubt hurrying their way to work so that they can afford the luxury of all these buildings around me. I wonder what they all do. Business of some description, I should think. Lawyers, investment bankers. I’ll have to remember this area when I get back to New York and tell James about it. Perhaps they have a European arm that needs dealing with. Or perhaps they already have contracts with some of these people? Who knows? In all honesty, I don’t care that much at the moment. These two weeks are for me. Two weeks to re-orientate myself and allow some peace to settle, a peace that doesn’t linger in the arms of the man from whom I’m walking away. No matter how much I wish it did.
“Get in the car.” My face swings around at Pascal’s growled demand, and I simply raise a brow at the Ferrari idling by the side of the road. Very surreptitious. I’m sure no one would notice him in that. Certainly not Jon Innsbrucker. Idiot. Why should I get in the car? No. I’ve got my money. I’m going. We’re done.
I keep walking, turning the corner into a side street and wondering where the hell it’ll take me. I’m hoping for a short cut he can’t get the car through.
“Lilah?” he says, as though the very notion of me ignoring him is so ridiculous he’s never heard such a thing. Well, I haven’t got anything left to say. The car suddenly speeds up and flies past me until he dumps it on the side of the road about twenty feet ahead of me. I stop, change direction and carry on over the road to cut through another street instead.
“Will you stop your wandering feet for once in your life?” he calls, as I hear the car door slam. A rally of language I don’t understand hits my ears. Some of it may be Italian, but frankly, it’s too fast for me to hear, and mostly mumbled beneath his breath in irritation. I’m glad he’s irritated. I am, too. I’m irritated with him for being such a bloody fool and ruining all this. Irritated that he just threw money at my feet. And irritated at him for being too fucking attractive for
his own good. “Stop and look at me,” he says from behind me. I shake my head and keep going. Forward, onward, away from all this confusion and pain.
“Did you, or did you not fuck Alexander?” he shouts. My feet half stop in hope, then start moving again as a sigh escapes me. He’ll answer that himself. He needs to answer that himself. And he damn well needs to apologise for doubting me before I can even begin to have a conversation about this. “You will stand still and answer me.”
I will not. In fact, I start moving even quicker through the slushy tarmac to get to wherever I’m going. His hand grabs out at my arm, and I swivel instantly, glaring at him and yanking it from his fingers.
“Don’t ever fucking touch me unless I ask for it,” I bellow. Fucking man.
His eyes widen a little, his brow rising at my tone as he opens his mouth again. I stare at it and wait for whatever is going to come out, hoping it’s what I want to hear. If not, I’ll carry on along the bloody road. Silence ensues as he closes his mouth and just stares at me through narrowed eyes. Unfortunately, I don’t appear to have much in the way of patience lately. My feet spin me away without care. Going. Gone. He’s not going to give me the answer I need. He doesn’t believe me. He only believes his world of lies and dishonesty. That’s his world, a world that I will not allow in a love that should be sound and filled with a truth and hope that sin couldn’t invade.
“Why must you be so obstructive? It is a simple question, Lilah. Answer it,” he says quietly, in a voice that threatens to tear my heart open. He’s right. It’s a very simple question, and it’s one he should already know the answer to.
“You answer it,” I call back, turning my head to glance at him before carrying on.
I have no idea where I’m heading, but as my feet trudge on further, I feel the sense of loss finally settling in. He can’t answer it, can he? Of all the people in the world, I would have expected him to get this feeling inside us. He found me, made me this way, opened up a rally of feelings I wasn’t aware of. You would have thought it would be easy for him to allow it to run its course, for him to settle in whatever this would become and allow it its freedom. But he can’t, can he? He doesn’t trust it. It might not even be that he doesn’t trust me. It might be that he doesn’t trust himself, and he certainly doesn’t trust Alexander. In fact, why doesn’t he trust Alexander? Why would he not accept whatever the man said and believe it? Actually, I don’t even know if Alexander is awake yet. Is he? Maybe they haven’t spoken about all of this.
My feet stop me before I can order them to. Apparently, I have things to say, or at least questions I want answering before I make my own way without him. I turn to look back at him. He hasn’t moved. He’s just standing there staring at me, not chasing, looking as regal as it’s possible to look on a backstreet in Berlin. His long, black, tailed coat is buttoned up, and his tie is perfectly straight against his crimson shirt. He looks like he did the first time I saw him. Like he’s not of this world or era. He’s just missing his cane and then he could be standing in that regency period again, waiting to deflower whatever virginal beauty comes his way. Forcefully. I’m no virginal beauty, not anymore, and his air of mystery is lost on me. I know him. I know his weakness for me. I can feel him grappling with everything he has to not just walk over here and take what he wants. He could cage me again. Strap me up. Keep me in some room all for himself, and use me until he rids himself of whatever he believes to be true. But he won’t, not again, because that’s not what he needs from me. Having me beneath him and hanging around for amusement or revenge isn’t what I am to him. He has a thousand of those types he can play with. I’m not one of them. He needs what I just gave him in that hotel room. He wants my bite, my fire, my ability to take his strength from him and then give it back, just as Alexander said. He knows it as well as I do, and yet he’s confused about how he feels, and is clearly giving me the opportunity to make this better for him, for us. That’s not my job. It’s his.
“Why have you chased me again?” I call out across the street. He immediately frowns and begins taking a step forward. I hold my hand up instantly to stop him. “You look like a lost puppy.” He doesn’t. He looks stunning as he stands there with the morning sun glinting off his shoes. He smirks a little, showing me a glimpse of that happiness we both felt only thirty minutes ago.
“I want the truth.”
“Why do you need the truth?” He looks confused again for a few moments and then starts smiling at me, taking another step as he does and ignoring my warning not to come closer.
“I am not here to play games, Lilah,” he says, coming to a stop two feet in front of me and clasping his hands behind his back. “I would simply like to know.”
I’m sure he would.
“The very fact that you are chasing me should prove your truth, shouldn’t it? I mean, someone with your intellect wouldn’t just jump to conclusions, would they? Because that would be dense. Unbelievably so, don’t you think?” He smiles wider, closing the gap between us as he does, and I swear I can feel him inside me again. I can. I can feel him forging deeper and kissing me. I can even hear whispered promises coming from nowhere but the air. As if he’s talking in my mind and helping me to understand him even more.
“We made love in that room, hmm? It was enlightening to the senses.”
“Was it?”
“It was.” Why? Other than the fact that it was obscenely good sex. “I believed you, my love. For the first time, I truly felt your need. Hmm? He teaches you well.”
I could laugh. In fact, I do start to a little as I watch him thinking this is Alexander’s doing. It might be in some ways, and there’s no doubt the man has shown me things I didn’t know about myself or hadn’t found before, but it’s Pascal who teaches me. The man standing in front of me is the one who shows me the way. He teaches me every time I spend time with him—teaches me how to deal with him, who he is, why he is. Every time we make love, he allows me in a bit further, lets me connect with him in a way that no one else ever has. No one has ever been inside my head like he has. Alexander helps, no doubt, but it’s the man I love who pulls me forward into him. It’s him that makes me complete. Alexander doesn’t need to teach me about that. He’s done all he needs to do just pointing me in the right direction.
“You teach me well,” I reply eventually, my chin held high, thinking of the times he’s not allowed me to be scared of my reactions to him. He’s the one who lets me choose my own directions, make my own way. And he’s the one who refuses to allow my weaknesses to become insecurities. “But you won’t ever fucking chain me again.”
He smirks and lifts his hand to my scarf, then takes it away before he touches it.
“You presume there will be another again, my love, hmm? We need to be truthful first, yes?” We do? He does. Not me. I’m done saying my truths. He needs the end result to come from within. No amount of me telling him will settle as truth. He suddenly spins on his foot, hands clasped behind his back again, and wanders over to the car. “You will come, yes?” he says, offering his hand towards the door he’s just opened. “Claire will need another familiar face when I take her.”
Why I’m even thinking about going with him again is beyond all rational thought. I root my feet to the spot, not daring to believe that this will be okay again, because he still hasn’t apologised or told me he realises nothing happened. So, instead of following him, I narrow my eyes and twist me head to look back along the street in the other direction. He doesn’t need me, not to get Claire anyway, and unless he apologises and somehow makes all of this better, I’m not going anywhere with him. “Lilah, please. I will find time for our discussions. However, I must deal with Claire first, yes? She could be in danger.”
I suppose I did follow her halfway around the world for him. Actually, he hasn’t even said thank you for that. I huff at my own reaction to the preposterous situation I’ve found myself in.
“Firstly, you haven’t said thank you. Secondly, you throw money at m
e like I’m a whore. Thirdly, why? To any of it, frankly. And fourthly, just… fuck off.” He just keeps standing there, inching his way into some sort of regency bow and smiling devilishly.
“Indeed, and yes, all of the above have merit, none of which I am prepared to answer at this precise moment, my love. I have already given you more time than I should have given Claire’s predicament, hmm? Perhaps we could continue when I am less concerned for her safety?”
Condescending arsehole. I fold my arms and stare him down as he chuckles and waggles his fingers at me.
“Please do not pretend you are not intrigued, my love, hmm? You and I both know this is far from complete. We should be given the chance to finish this intentionally, should we choose, yes?”
I feel my lip curling at his calmness in response to my irritation. It was very intentional that I started on this road back to the airport. Why I’m suddenly considering going backwards is unknown.
“Or I could simply not give you the chance to run again, hmm? I could hoist you, a thought that is becoming more fascinating by the moment.”
“Don’t you dare,” I bark as I check my running route behind me then turn back. He waggles his hand again, indicating that the choice will only be mine for a few seconds more before he does what he needs to do to get his way.
It only takes another few of those seconds for me to move one foot in front of the other, not entirely sure if I’m heading in the right direction or not. I wish I knew. I wish I understood the correct thing to do, but all of my logical reasoning just flies out of the window when he smiles and shows me his heart. So, I take his hand and slip into the car without any fucking idea what I’m doing other than blindly following the man I love.
Chapter 4
He breathed her in again and watched as she settled herself angrily into the seat. Life was still calmer with Lilah beside him, even in her fury. It was warmer somehow, regardless of her treachery, which he was no longer sure had even happened. Damn both of them for not telling him the truth, because he’d felt the love again in their moment together, sensed it in the way she traced his scars and left more of her own marks embedded beside them.
Serenity's Key: VDB 3 (The VDB Trilogy) Page 5