by Rina Kent
His process is: Calculation. Manipulation. Result.
Most of the time, only the result part is visible to the outside world. He works so damn fast, burning through steps to get what he wants.
But lately, he’s been flashing me the calculation look the entire time. I’m not sure if he’s letting his guard down or if he couldn’t be bothered to mask himself around me.
A stupid place in my heart is hoping for the last.
Another option is: he can’t get past the calculation step when with me. I mentally shake my head to not get my hopes high.
All this could be a part of his plan, so I would let my guard down and he’d devour me.
More than he already is.
“What are you thinking about?” I ask, still clutching the sheet around my chest. If he looks at me with those heated eyes, or worse, touches me, our mouths will be busy doing other things than talk, and I desperately need to talk to him. I’m confused out of my mind and I need to figure out why the hell I’m not stopping whatever relationship we have.
College resumes in a month, and I have to grovel to my parents for running away without their approval.
He doesn’t move, watching me intently as if I were still asleep. Then, his slightly husky voice drifts around me. The cool British accent always had me on my toes. “What were you thinking about?”
He figured I wasn’t asleep. Did he know all the other nights, too?
“Many things.”
“Such as?”
“Such as…” I trail off, not sure if I want to tread in this territory. It’s not like I have anything to lose – except being kicked out of the flat.
Perhaps that’s why my tongue is in knots. My heart plummets to the dark pits of my stomach at the thought.
I don’t want to leave.
“Since when are you afraid of telling me whatever is on your mind, Cam?”
Since he’s using my nickname, it means he wants me close. Fils de pute. I can’t believe I’m mentally recording all these details about him. Might as well write a book about him.
“I’m not afraid. It’s…”
“Why are you trailing off?” He drops the steeple, his thick brows furrowing. “You don’t do hesitation. What happened, baby girl?”
“You happened, Dom. You’re not easy to figure out in case you haven’t noticed.”
He raises an eyebrow. “You didn’t seem to have a problem when you were figuring me all out in that coffee shop.”
“I wasn’t figuring you out. I was only watching.” I release a humourless laugh. “Even when I came closer, reading you is still hard as hell.”
He pauses, and if I weren’t imagining things, his shoulders tense. “Do you regret it?”
I smile genuinely this time and point at the tattoo across his side. “No regrets.”
I still think Dominic is my greatest adventure. It’s a story I would tell my grandchildren. ‘Listen, kids. Your grandmother ran away to England and threw herself in the embrace of a sociopath. She had so much fun with him that she ignored his nature and only focused on the good bits. Perhaps your granny at the time was so wrapped up around his finger that she didn’t realise she was being played.’
Way to tell the most disturbing story to non-existent grandchildren.
“I can safely say it would take me years on end to actually figure you out.”
His lips twitch in a little smile. “Good.”
“Why is it good?”
“I like being your subject test. You have as many years as you wish to dig your curious nose in me.”
I don’t have years. A month is all I get.
A stupid, suicidal part, that won’t be able to live long enough to see her grandchildren, wants to stay. I can study him. Maybe even –
No. I shut the thought as fast as it came. Once I go that route – the settling down and normal life that Dom doesn’t even believe in – I’ll be the sorest loser in this game.
Not sure when I started to consider it a game. Perhaps since that day he challenged me to let go of my dark side.
Dominic isn’t the losing type. Ever. But neither am I. He might be ten years or so older than me and his brain fascinates me, but I never thought of myself as his inferior.
“Where did you go again, Camille?” He’s irritated. Something about Dom? He likes to own all my attention just like he owns every inch of my skin.
“Tell me something, Dom.” I sit up, clutching the sheet to my chest. Blonde strands fall on my forehead and I push them back. “Why did you ask me out that day?”
“I kind of like you.”
My stupid heart somersaults. No idea if he’s joking or for real, but since he’s Dominic, I go for the first option and shake my head. “I’m serious.”
“I’m also serious.”
A balloon forms behind my ribcage, and I swear it’s about to burst my heart open.
Whoa. Easy there, heart. Are we attempting suicide because Dominic might like us? That’s so unambitious.
I swallow and keep my head in the game. This could be one of Dominic’s deflation methods. “There was an ulterior motive behind why you asked me out. What is it?”
“Why did you say yes?” he counters.
I shrug. “I’m too curious for my own good. You’re intriguing.”
“Hmmm.”
“So?” I push.
“So what?”
“I told you my reasons. Now give me yours.”
“You shouldn’t expect to be treated the same way you treat others, baby girl.”
“Stop twisting words and tell me.” I use my bossy voice.
“I will spank you for that tone.” His eyes gleam. “You’re doing it on purpose, aren’t you?”
I clear my throat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” My tongue darts to lick my lower lip and he follows the motion. “Tell me and I will let you do whatever you want.”
He chuckles, but it’s dark more than amused. “I do whatever I want with you anyway.”
Yeah. He does. That was a weak bargaining chip. I go for the killer. “Dom...please?”
His calm gaze darts to my face. “You were watching me.”
“You kind of draw attention. Many people watch you. Why me?”
He appears thoughtful for a while. “You snorted.”
“What?”
“When I was talking to my friend Jake, you snorted while passing by.”
I stare, baffled. My jaw is probably dropping to the floor. “My snorting sealed the deal?”
“You knew I was lying.” His dark eyes plunge in mine. It’s like they’re stripping me bare and putting me back together again. “I noticed that there’s a challenging woman underneath that baggy apron.”
The balloon from earlier shrinks with sheer disappointment. It’s all too clear now. I’m a challenge for Dominic. Someone who’s not eating off his hand like his snobbish friends or the rest of society.
My heart tugs. Oh well, he’s my adventure and I’m his challenge. I guess we can call it even.
Then why are tears threatening to spill down my cheeks?
But I appreciate his honesty. What I love the most about Dominic is that he never pretends around me. He leaves that to his fake friends’ circle.
Since I’m only a challenge, it won’t be long before he tires of me. The balloon explodes.
Well, who cares? I’m leaving in a month, anyway.
“Glad to be a stop in your challenges’ journey.” There’s more bite in my words than I intended to. La vache. That’s showing emotions, and predators like Dominic latch on that.
I brace myself for the blow.
Dominic says in a dark sinister voice, “I told you. I destroy my challenges. You’re more than a challenge, Cam.”
“Will I be thrown off Mars?” My tone is teasing. “Do you have Devil’s minions there to help in my utter destruction?”
He laughs, the sound is deep and heartfelt. “I said I like you, didn’t I? I don’t destroy who I like.�
��
The balloon resurrects. Stupid heart.
“But I had to know who I’m up against and asked around about you,” Dominic adds with a sinful smirk.
“That’s called stalking.”
He shrugs as if he couldn’t care less. Actually, I’m certain he doesn’t. Dominic lives on the edge of morality. I’m not even sure he has a moral line. He’s shameless, and that’s part of his charm.
“I didn’t accuse you of stalking when you were watching me the entire time, baby girl.”
I cross my arms. “I didn’t follow you around.”
“Neither did I. We need to re-define stalking all over again. I object to your earlier accusation, Miss Future Lawyer.”
Ugh. He’s so good at twisting words to his liking. I sulk. “You’re such a sociopath, Dom.”
“I’m not a sociopath.”
“Says every sociopath ever.”
“I’m really not pathological.” He straightens further. “I just know what I want and go for it.”
Which is the exact definition of a sociopath, but I don’t say that. It’s not the time to argue. Dominic seems comfortable and in the mood to talk.
It’s my chance to dig deeper into the man I’ve been giving my body and other things I don’t want to think about.
“How do you know you’re not a sociopath?” I ask.
“I wasn’t born this way. It’s not in my genes. It’s true that I don’t feel people’s pain, but I don’t take pleasure from their misfortune either.” He smirks. “Except with you. I love torturing your body until it’s begging for release. I love it when you’re sobbing my name while my marks are all over that porcelain skin.”
A flash of pleasure pools between my legs. It takes me a bit of time to catch my bearings. “Would you enjoy it if I were actually hurting?”
He shakes his head. “The greatest part of my pleasure is because I know you love it. The needy voices you make drive me fucking crazy, baby girl.”
I’m a masochist to his sadism. We’re completely compatible in that regard. I bite my lower lip to suppress a smile. Then I cross my arms, realising that Dominic could be using this to scatter my focus from questioning him.
Unlike psychopaths, sociopaths aren’t born. They’re made by certain harsh circumstances they lived while young.
Dominic speaks about his profession a lot, but never about his family. No matter how much I poke him. He has zero family pictures in his flat.
I choose a safe questioning. “But you manipulate a lot. Why do you do that?”
He remains silent for long heavy seconds.
I count my options to urge him without pushing him. One thing about Dominic is that when he feels attacked or pushed, he completely withdraws into himself and cuts any type of communication.
I soften my voice and go with the truth. “I just want to understand you better.”
His eyes flash my way with dark amusement. “Why?”
Because I’m knee-deep in you, freaking bastard.
“Consider it my contribution to humanity,” I say in a light tone instead. “I’m planning to write a book about dissecting a sociopath’s mind. The idea is strangely growing on me”
He smiles a little. “The sociopath label doesn’t apply on me. I’m not impulsive or irrational or without a life plan. I just learnt to adapt.” He pauses some more. He uses a lot of pauses in his speech. Another way to intimidate. To manipulate. People are bothered by silence and usually fill it. Either they fidget or just forget about the subject.
I don’t. I stare at him straight in the eyeball.
Dominic grins so wide until his perfect smile is on display. His dimple appears only when he’s honestly smiling. It’s like he’s happy I always pass his silence test. After another few seconds of complete blankness, just to screw with me, his grin disappears. “I was abandoned as a child. I lived in the streets as a nobody, so I had to change to survive. If I didn’t, I would’ve died.”
“Oh.”
I bite my lower lip as a clog constricts my throat. I figured he had some sort of a dark past, but I never thought it was this grim. I don’t know why I always believed he was one of the rich snobs he hangs out with. It never crossed my mind that he climbed from being a nobody to be the king of their circle.
The way Dominic is wired makes more sense now. Humans can become scary when they have to survive. He probably took the smartest form — manipulation.
“I bounced from one foster home to another.” His tone drifts with complete detachment as if he’s talking about a third party. “Then, I was adopted by a rich family. The only reason they took me in was because it reflected well on their ‘charity image’. I was treated every bit the charity case I was. That house was always cold and filled with scheming and cheating and lies. Years later, my adoptive father’s second wife cheated on him with his accountant, they robbed him of his money and eloped. He died of a heart attack when I was in med school. His legacy meant shit to me. The only good thing I got out of that family was the privileged education. When I was a child, all I wanted was to teach those fuckers who left me to starve a lesson. I wanted them to regret abandoning me when they see me successful. Now, I couldn’t give two fucks about them.”
I want to swallow, but I don’t, afraid that will make a sound. I can’t begin to imagine his upbringing. He was unwanted by his real parents and used by his adoptive parents. No wonder he’s become a man of steel. He never knew love, of course he can’t reflect it.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I croak.
“That’s so sappy.” His voice and face are closed. “I thought we don’t do that.”
“No, I do that, Dom.” I itch to hug him. “When people are in pain, normal humans show empathy.”
“You mean pity.”
“Would you stop twisting words for once?”
He smiles, only this time, it’s the his-full-of-shit grin. He’s trying to shut me off.
Well, not today.
“That research about helping kids like you…?” I trail off. He mentioned it once, but I paid no attention because I thought it was about snobs. I never thought it had to do with abandoned children.
His eyes spark with something mysterious. Accomplishment. He feels accomplished. That warms my chest. “It’s in its final phase and will start soon.”
Just thinking about the amount of hell he endured as a kid causes my heart to strain against my ribcage. Maman and Papa are my world. I might need my rebel phase, but I can’t imagine a life without them.
“I’m sorry you had to go through that, Dom.”
He throws me an irritated look. “Why are you saying sorry? The parents who abandoned me are the only ones who should apologise.”
“Would you accept it?”
“I would tell them to go fuck themselves.”
“Figured.”
He cocks his head to the side. “If you’re figuring me all out, it’s going to be a problem.”
“Why is that?”
“Because you wouldn’t be curious about me anymore.”
This time, I can’t resist it and jump straight to his lap. The sheet falls on each side of me so my bare chest is glued to his. He releases a surprised sound, but his hands wrap around my back. My own arms surround his neck and my legs tuck on his lap. I nuzzle my nose against his collarbone, then look up at him and whisper, “I will always be curious about you.”
He arches an eyebrow. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. I kind of like you. Like maybe a little bit.”
A playful gleam coats his features. “Let me see what I can do to make that a lot.”
“Are you trying to make me fall in love with you or something?” I tease.
“You should.” He teases back. “I recommend it.”
My fingers thread in his thick strands. “Try persuading me, then.”
He grins. “Persuasion is my skill.”
Dominic dips his head and seals his lips to mine. It starts as sweet savouring, but then, Dominic�
��s tongue finds mine and I’m a goner. The kiss is deep and rough and passionate all at the same time.
I sleep tucked in his arms. My ear rests against his soothing heartbeat.
As I fall asleep, I feel eyes on me.
And they’re not Dominic’s.
20
Camille
I wake up to an empty bed and the lingering scent of Dominic’s aftershave.
Sleeping curled into him has become a habit since I jumped him in his chair that night two weeks ago. He still leaves before I wake up, though. If only I weren’t such a heavy sleeper.
I release a frustrated sigh and sit up while checking my phone. Maman sent me a good morning text. She’s busy with house chores at this time or I would’ve called her.
Papa is still not talking to me. Maman says I’m as stubborn as him. We were always a team and it hurts that we’re not on speaking terms. I’ll go back in about a week and mend things with him.
Hopefully.
At the thought of leaving, a gloomy sensation caves my chest.
I push the sheets away.
Today is my day off from the coffee shop, so I’ll just snuggle in bed and read some of my law school assignments.
I might have flown here and glued myself to a sociopath – who still insists he isn’t – but I have a dream I’ll never give up.
Defending helpless people who get scammed is what I’m aiming for. I’m going to haul their offenders to the ground.
I’m such a hypocrite. My dream is to fight off scammers, but I’m all tangled up with a manipulator. Not only in his sheets, but in his body, in his evasive mind, and in that person lurking inside.
Why did he have to tell me about his rough childhood? Now, I’m going to be so open about seeing the best in him.
Which could’ve been his plan all along.
Freaking bastard.
I take the quickest shower because my body is demanding coffee. I don’t bother with wearing clothes. I just wrap a towel around my torso, let locks of wet blonde hair fall to my shoulders, and saunter down the hall.
Not to be dramatic, but morning coffee is like air.
Dominic’s flat is huge but not huge enough to rival the mansion Papa built. After all, we’re talking about a flat, not a mansion.