Текст книги "Return to Grace Street"

Автор книги: Ella Dominguez

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Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

20: Killer Instincts

Before heading home, Elsa needed to make a pit stop in the restaurant to use the ladies room. She had just stepped out and slipped her arm into Victor’s when they rounded the corner and ran straight into Nate.

When he saw her intimacy with Victor, his face turned a deep scarlet. Dark and hot, his eyes narrowed, and his gaze locked onto her face. She had never seen his temper rise so quickly or seen him work so hard to keep it in check. Her eyes darted between Nate’s and Victor’s as dread and shame swirled all around her. While Nate appeared livid, Victor appeared smug. When Nate took a step toward her, Victor’s stance widened and he pushed her behind him in a protective manner, silently challenging Nate to take action.

Before that happened, she pressed past Victor and grabbed Nate by the wrist.

He swiftly yanked out of her grip and pointed at Victor. “Is he the reason you broke off the engagement?”

Her stomach dropped when she saw Victor’s body jerk as if he had been slapped. Her winning hand had just been exposed.

She stared up at Nate, speechless. She wanted to walk out, run out, but she couldn’t bring herself to turn away from him again. If she had just been honest with him the night she found out about his connection to Victor, she could have spared him all those long weeks of suffering and not knowing why she had abruptly broken things off.

Facing him, she still didn’t know how to explain her and Victor’s bizarre relationship. There wouldn’t even be any point in trying. He would never understand. No one would. Things had been over for weeks with Nate. He was already seeing other women. What did it matter what the reason was?

It mattered. She knew it did. And Nate deserved answers.

Gently taking his hand, she pulled him to a corner of the restaurant so they could speak privately.

Guilt rolled through her like hot lava as the silence stretched between them. It hurt too much to look at him, but she forced her eyes to remain on him and to face what she had done.

"Do you love me?" It was a question she had never had the courage to ask him before. Her heartfelt words elicited nothing from Nate. Not a shimmer of his eyes, not a sway of his body as if deliberating the question. Nothing. Only silence and sad, liquid, blue eyes stared back at her. "You can't even say it, yet you wanted to marry me?"

"You don't love me either, but we're compatible,” he answered with only the slightest hint of emotion.

And there it was – the thing she had known all along. He had finally owned up to not loving her, even if he hadn’t stated it. He had finally said out loud what the sad reality of their relationship was.

Tears of regret pricked the corners of her eyes. "You're right. I don't love you. But I want more than compatibility, Nate. I deserve more and so do you. I want love. I want that overwhelming feeling of helplessness and hopefulness that comes from being in love. I want passion."

His body stiffened defensively. "So you're saying I'm passionless?"

She shook her head, hating the dejection she saw in his eyes. "I'm saying our passions and desires are different."

In typical Nate fashion, he changed the subject to something, anything, that didn’t involve the word love.

"That man is trouble,” he pointed in Victor’s direction. “Everyone except you, knows that.” She knew. More than anybody. “There's a reason he never has a girlfriend. There’s a reason he’s never been married. Think about that the next time he's fucking you passionately.”

It was the first time she had seen Nate speak about something so full of feeling. It pained her to see him hurting, but this thing between them was over. She had already returned his ring and there was no turning back.

“And when he's done with you, feel free to go fuck yourself full of passion, and don't ever think about calling me again,” he spat out.

He waited for her response, but she gave him none. There was nothing more to say. He was allowed to be angry with her. It had never been her intention to hurt him, though she knew she had. No, she wouldn’t be calling on him again. Someday he would find a woman whom he would fall in love with and one that he didn’t just feel he was compatible with. She hoped he would.

She deserved love too, but somehow it always seemed to slip out of her reach. She could’ve learned to love Nathan… eventually, but now their situation was irreversible and Mr. Black was to blame. However, she knew Mr. Black wasn’t the only one at fault. She made the choice to play the game again, fully aware of the consequences and the fallout that would inevitably happen. Her hand hadn’t been completely forced; just coerced.

***

Elsa belonged to Victor. She always had. From the very first day he heard her voice in the pub. Nathan had only been on borrowed time with her. That man should consider himself lucky that he was allowed the time he had with her.

Victor watched with bitter jealousy as they talked in hushed tones in a secluded corner of the restaurant. Was he begging for her to come back? Was she agreeing?

His stomach churned and his chest tightened. All along she had been lying to him about their engagement. All along she had led him to believe that she was planning a life with another man and that when the game was over, she would fall back into Nathan’s arms.

If only he had paid closer attention. If only he had stalked her. If only he had… He gulped loudly and sighed irritably at himself. She knew not having told him about her broken engagement gave her power over him. How the fuck did she know that? Was he really that easily manipulated? He had shared his secrets with her while the entire time she was hiding the biggest one of all. But for how long had she been lying?

When he saw Nathan exit the building, he strode to her and spun her around to face him.

"Why didn't you tell me you had broken up with him?"

With glassy eyes, she looked past him. "Because it was none of your business."

His angry retort barreled through him. "I've been spilling my fucking heart out to you night after night, and you didn't think I should know that?"

"No, I didn't,” she finally glared at him. “Thinking I'm engaged has kept you at arm’s length, which is exactly where I want you to be."

"Arm’s length?” he laughed sarcastically. “I’ve been buried inside of you for weeks now.” Elsa’s cheeks brightened and she opened her mouth in rebuttal, but he swiftly cut her off. “When did you end things with him?” He needed to know for his own sanity how long she had been deceiving him.

She stared silently at him for several long seconds, then cleared her throat. “The night I found out you had a hand in setting us up.” Bitterness laced her words. “The same day you made a promise to let me live my life uninterrupted if I played your game.”

Since the very, fucking, beginning. Once again, her feminine façade had hidden her killer instincts well.

Disgusted with himself for not having seen through her lies, he felt his face heating in a blush. “Why did you break it off?"

Her hands fisted at her side. "Because I decide who to be with; not you. I may be a lot of things, including stupid for ever having fallen for you, and even more ignorant for agreeing to play your damned game again, but the one thing I am not, is a cheater."

He stared back at her in stunned silence. She was winning. Again. Always one step ahead, always out-fucking-maneuvering him…. He would never win this game with her. Jesus fucking Christ, he'd be lucky if it was a draw.

The game was far from over yet, but still, she had just taken a huge lead.

How had he missed something so important? Had there been clues? He thought long and hard, replaying all their time together as she crossed her arms over her chest and turned away from him. Yes. There had been clues. Like the way she never really spoke about Nathan and changed the subject whenever he brought up the fact that she was engaged. Or how she always looked discomfited whenever he called Nathan her husband. And the way she never wore her ring. And the fact that she was so readily available to him. Like the way Nathan reacted so coldly toward her at her birthday party and how she didn’t bother to call him after her attack. But the most obvious sign of all was the way she didn’t care that he had been with other women or that he had a membership to the Stallion & Knight club. The glaring signs that shined as bright as a spotlight had all been missed because he was so consumed with what he was telling her, he had his blinders on.

He wracked his brain for more hints, but his nerves were too raw to think rationally. All he could recall was the jealousy she had made him feel; the ache in his chest he felt every time she left, and thinking that she was with another man. He wanted to be angry at her and to hate her for stringing him along and making him think that she was unobtainable, but he couldn’t. How could he when she was playing the game the way he designed it to be played? How could he condemn her for being true to herself?

All these weeks she had been alone; just like him. Every day she had been tortured by everything that this game was doing to her; just like him. Every time they faced off, she had put on her mask; just like him.

And he had fallen right into her trap. Again.

Killer. Fucking. Instincts. This Goddamned woman may be a liar of epic proportions when it came to the game, but she was no cheater. He was the only one in her life and his heart felt as if it would implode at the thought.

He was the only one.

He was hit with the sudden realization that this thing with Elsa wasn't just about the game anymore. It wasn't even about the sex. It was about possessing her; owning her; and making her want only him. He was caught up in his obsession with her like an animal caught in a hunter’s snare. His fixation with her had become increasingly demanding and endless and he was helpless to do anything about it.

Then there was the other thing that kept getting in the way… The thing his subconscious was violently trying to reject. He was falling into a deep abyss of the thing he detested more than anything – love. But what did he know about love? He had never experienced it deeply or long enough to know how to give or receive it properly. He sure as hell never received it from his mother, and the only woman he had loved, Chapter One, turned out to be a serial murderer.

No, it wasn’t love that he was feeling. It was something more potent and devastating than mere love. It was something else – something that didn’t have a name and couldn’t be categorized or labeled. Whatever it was, it was intertwined with the power struggle between them and, Christ, how he craved that struggle; yearned for it; lived for it.

It was a struggle he vowed to win at all costs by winning her heart back, even if it meant the death of his co-conspirator – Mr. Black.

21: Uncertainty

Elsa waited for the fallout as she and Victor walked back to his car. He was seething and the tension between them was unbearable. He wouldn’t look at her, which was probably for the best. Having already seen hurt and anger in Nate’s eyes was more than enough for one evening; she didn’t need to see it from Victor, too.

Just as he revved the engine, his phone rang. A man’s voice on the other end sounded excited. Or upset. She couldn’t tell, but by the dismayed look on Victor’s face, what was being said was important. His jaw creaked from clenching his teeth and his eyes darted to her. More rapid mumbling on the phone made Elsa lean in to try and make out what the voice was saying, but Victor threw the car door open and jumped out. The door no sooner shut when she heard his raised voice. The only words she could hear was a name: Anthony Bruce.

Her stomach did a flip flop. The name brought back bad memories of her time before with Victor and how he had almost mailed his journal notes about her to the serial killer. She watched him as he paced in front of the car’s bright headlights in the freezing weather, the wind blowing his hair into his eyes, and his gestures animated. Abruptly he stopped and stared at her through the windshield, his eyes fixing on her and a look of concern washing over his pale face.

He nodded, mouthed something, and then climbed back into the car.

“What’s the matter?” she dared to ask.

A shake of his head let her know that whatever was wrong was better left unsaid. They drove in silence until they arrived at 2500 East Grace Street.

“Don’t leave,” he stated when she climbed out.

She bent down into the open door, stunned. “You’re not coming in.”

“I can’t. I need to deal with something. I expect you to be here when I get back. If I get back. I may be at work all night.”

“I work tomorrow,” she huffed.

“There are clothes for you in my closet, but I want you here tonight. Anyway,” he glared at her. “It’s not like you have someone to go home to, is it?”

She swallowed loudly and blinked several times as she stared at him.

His eyes narrowed down to slits. “We’ll discuss the current state of our affairs later. Now get inside.”

A shiver ran down Elsa’s spine at the staunch look on his face and the stern tone of his voice. She turned and walked to the door with her tail between her legs. A glance over her shoulder revealed his dark eyes watching her. Only when she stepped inside the house and closed the door did she hear his vehicle drive away. She could only imagine what lay in store for her for having led Victor on for so long.

***

Victor’s mind was racing as was his pulse. His thoughts were still on Elsa and her lie, but he needed to focus. There was an unexpected development at work that needed his full attention. That one phone call and his world around him seemed to be spinning off its axis. First, Elsa’s revelation that her engagement was off and now, this. When it rained shit in his life, it poured.

As he parked his vehicle and rushed into the police headquarters, he mentally patted himself on the back for having insisted on fast-tracking Elsa’s attacker’s case. He had been demanding answers all week and pushing the detectives in charge to find out why the man whose name was Daniel Franco had chosen to attack her. They had tried to convince him that it was random, but his instincts were telling him otherwise. It turned out he was right.

Just as he entered the building, a young officer approached him.

“You think we got him?” his bright eyes scanned Victor’s face for some kind of approval.

The detective’s demeanor halted him cold in his tracks. It was as if he was looking at a younger version of himself. He had been that man once – enthusiastic and optimistic. There was still a fragile flame of hope residing within him back then. It seemed like a lifetime ago, but in reality it had been… How long? Victor quickly did the math in his head.

Ten years.

For ten fucking years Mr. Black had been a force in his life. For a decade he had been ruining people’s lives under the guise of helping them. Wordless, he stared at the man as his emotions began to skid out of control.

“Agent Laurenzo? Do you think it’s him?” The detective’s voice sounded a million miles away.

He quickly went into auto-mode. “I don’t know yet. What did you find?”

“It’s a long shot, I know,” he began to question himself. “I could be wrong…”

Victor cut the man off. “Don’t do that to yourself. Never do that. Go with your gut. Always. Now tell me what you found.”

The officer nodded in agreement and appeared to take his words to heart. “I had his house searched again after you called the last time. I went there myself to assist and found several odd items, including some correspondence…”

“Show me.”

The detective led him back to a room filled with boxes, bags and envelopes of evidence. He took one look at the letters laid out on the table and knew it would be a long night.

Glancing over his shoulder at the man who just might have solved one of the biggest cases on the books, he reassured him. “Whatever happens here, whatever I find, I’ll make sure you get the credit you deserve.”

***

Emotionally exhausted, Elsa had immediately fallen asleep after her shower. Her dreams were filled with images of Nate’s sad eyes and Mr. Black’s angry eyes. She knew, even in her dream that he would make sure she would pay for having lied to Victor. His words kept gnawing at her, making her sleep restless. She woke several times and each time, there was an eerie sense of dread prickling under her skin. Something was off though she couldn’t put her finger on what it was. He was still harboring more secrets and she was itching to know what he was hiding from her.

She rose from bed and walked in the dark to his office. To her surprise, the cameras were off. Was it intentional or a mistake on his part? She didn’t care. All it meant was that she had free rein of his house and she planned on taking full advantage of it.

She began sifting through the desk cabinets. Nothing of interest caught her eye until she opened the largest of the drawers and found the dreaded case file. He had kept it. She stared at it as all the words contained within it flooded her memory. All his Chapters and the torment he had put them through. She reached for it but stopped as panic coursed through her veins. Her eyes darted around the room nervously. It was too easy. Maybe this was a test. She heard her own rapidly beating heart in her ears but was unable to stop herself from picking up the manuscript. Just like before, she didn’t care what the consequences would be. With the twine removed, she fingered the cover page. Eyes closed, she held her breath and lifted the page fully expecting to see her name front and center. When she opened them, her heart sank.

Chapter 9 – Samantha, Age 36. Profession: Event Coordinator

She immediately diverted her eyes away from the document and concentrated on a spot on the wall as her eyes welled up with unshed tears. So there had been others after her. Of course there had been. Victor hadn’t changed. He never would. While she was going through the worst time of her life being mentally poked and prodded by psychotherapists, he was on the other end of the country mind fucking someone else.

She forced herself to flip past Chapter Nine. It would do her no good to know the details of his sexcapades with her. When she came to the end of the short chapter, she prepared herself for what came next – her chapter.

On the page that should’ve been her claim to fame in his fucked up game, read five simple words.

Chapter 8 – To be continued.

 

She heard herself curse under her breath. She would always be in the dark about how he felt about her. She would never get to read what it was he thought he had accomplished with her. He would never finish her damned chapter because he would never let it end. She tossed the document back in the bottom drawer, furious with herself for thinking that she would ever get to the bottom of things. It was his journal that she needed to get her hands on. That’s where all his secrets lay.

She glanced down underneath his desk at his messenger bag knowing he kept his most prized possession there. Promptly, she reached for it and began digging through it. When her fingers touched the thing she was looking for, her body stiffened.

Gently pulling it out, she ran the tip of her index finger over the worn leather. Did she really want to go down this path again? No, but the temptation was too much. As she sat it down on the desk, it fell open to a random entry.

What was written in black ink made her pulse skitter. These weren’t her notes, this was his personal diary.

Elsa had it backwards when she said Mr. Black was no one of importance when it’s me, Victor Laurenzo, that is no one of importance. Alone, I’m nothing. Just another man who’s had his heart broken like a million others. Just another asshole with an abusive past, taking out his hardships on innocent people. It’s a shitty fact and one I’m not proud of, but that’s the reality of my life. But with Mr. Black backing me up, I’m so much more than that. I’m stronger. Smarter. My senses sharper. Better equipped to deal with the never ending flow of bullshit that always seems to come my way. I can do anything without fear of consequences when he’s in my head. My past stays where it belongs when he’s in control. My emotions stay out of my decision making process.

She wants me to control him and to keep him leashed, but Mr. Black isn’t the kind of man who can be restrained. Not for long, anyway.

 

His words were like dagger blows straight through her heart. A dry sob burned in her throat, but she refused to allow it out. Why couldn’t he see past Mr. Black? How could he believe that he was nothing without him? Why couldn’t he see the real man that he was? A sudden awareness of being watched tingled in her body and her eyes flicked upward to find Victor standing at the threshold of the office door with a haunted look on his face.

“Nothing is ever enough for you, is it?” his jaw clenched. “You always want more.”

The betrayal he was feeling was written in his beautiful, pain-stricken eyes, and she felt the blood drain from her face at being caught red-handed.

“This is bullshit. All of this,” she pointed at the words in his journal. “You don’t need Mr. Black. You are important.”

“What the hell do you know?” he whispered.

“I know he doesn’t make you stronger, Victor; he makes you cruel and unreasonable.”

A wave of irritation suffused her senses when he strode toward her and tried to snatch his journal from her hands.

“Do you really believe this?” she held on tightly to the leather-bound notebook.

“I wrote it, didn’t I?” he tore it away from her angrily.

“The parts of your personality that you think are strong and smart are you, not Mr. Black,” she reached for it again, wanting to read more. He was quick and backed away from her, keeping a stronghold on his private thoughts.

“That’s right. I forgot. You’re a fucking psychologist now, aren’t you?” he growled.

“No, I’m not, and I never claimed to be, but Jesus Christ, Victor, anyone can see that you don’t’ suffer from split personality disorder. You are Victor. Only Victor. There is no Mr. Black. He’s nothing but a pawn you made up in your head so that you can exact revenge on innocent people to make up for what happened to you!” she stood and bellowed in his face. “Don’t blame your actions on Mr. Black. You are 100 percent liable no matter what’s happened in your life!”

Rage flashed in his eyes. “I know damned well I’m liable for my actions. And wasn’t it me who said all along that we were one and the same? Make up your fucking mind, Woman! Are we or aren’t we the same person!”

She froze in her spot as her mind raced with uncertainty. Yes, she had been the one to say that. She had believed it, too. But now… She shook her head. She didn’t know. It seemed when it came to Victor and Mr. Black, she didn’t know a Goddamn thing. “I’m confused,” she whispered.

He tossed his journal onto the desk and out of her reach before his hands plunged into her hair, pulling her head closer. “That’s the truest statement you’ve said since we started playing this game,” he hissed as he yanked her head back to meet his gaze.

“Where are my notes?” she blurted as she thrashed against his grip. “Why isn’t my chapter in your manuscript, Victor?”

He glared at her as tension settled thick and suffocating all around them. A tiny spark whispered in her brain that she was being irrational to insist on reading about herself, but she continued, undaunted.

“I want to know what you’ve written about me. I want to know all of it. Everything. I want to know all your secrets…” She swallowed an upsurge of sobs.

His narrowed gaze sharpened and his voice lowered. “You don’t deserve to know my secrets after you lied to me about Nate and read my personal journal…”

“But I want them,” she clamped onto the lapels of his jacket, shocked at the desperation in her own voice. Perhaps she didn’t deserve to know them, but then again he had put her through hell and it only seemed fair. Tugging him close, she stared up at him. “After what we’ve put each other through this round, I think we both deserve what’s coming to us.”

His prolonged stare sent a rush of emotion roiling through her. Would the part of himself he had disguised as Mr. Black prevail or would Victor keep him at bay?

“Fine. You want what’s coming to you? You’ll get it.”

The hungry, predatory look in his eyes made her question her own sanity for having pushed him. He gripped her upper arm and pulled her out of the room as he led her down the stairs and to the living room.

When he reached for the treasure box on the mantle, a bizarre sense of peace overcame her. Unseeing, she could pretend that his eyes were caring. Unable to speak, she wouldn’t be tempted to ask things that she had no business asking. Unmoving, she couldn’t resist his manipulations. So long as he didn’t hurt her… She had no choice but to believe that he wouldn’t.

Lowering herself to her knees in front of him, his eyes grew languid, though she didn’t know why. As he began to remove her clothes and bind her, she let herself go. This role was one she had grown into, even if it was one she hadn’t initially wanted.

There would be no more sleep this night and most likely, no work later on.

***

With Elsa undressed and bound, Victor guided her to the chaise. He was mentally worn out and too tired to be angry with her, both from work and from dealing with her constant insubordination. Even though he had trusted her enough to leave the cameras off and she had, once again, pounced on the opportunity to stick her nose into things she shouldn’t, he wasn’t surprised. She was simply being Elsa – curious, demanding, and infuriating. As usual.

As he circled around her and listened to the sound of her strangely calm and slow breathing, a sense of calm overtook him. With her at his feet, he felt like nothing in the world could possibly go wrong. Standing in front of her, he was ready to give her what she wanted and to get in return, what he was drawn to – total power.

Tonight he would demand that she submit completely to him. Tonight – he would own her.