Текст книги "Return to Grace Street"

Автор книги: Ella Dominguez

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Текущая страница: 2 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

2: Ultimatum

The hands on the clock seemed to be at a standstill as Victor lay in bed, staring at the ceiling and going over everything that had happened in the last two days since barging in on Elsa’s engagement party. Having drawn up a new set of rules, some of which were old rules from before, he felt confident enough to approach her and lay things out for her – plain and simple: play his game and suffer his wrath for having walked out on him or deny him and face his fury. Either way, she was going to play. That he would make undeniably clear.

A wicked smile worked its way onto his mouth. It couldn’t be helped. He had been dreaming of pleasing and torturing her mentally and physically since the day she left, never knowing when it would actually happen. Now, here he was on the eve of getting ready to inform her that he was going to have her again, with or without her permission, and he felt as giddy as he did the night he lost his virginity.

Elsa was robbing him of his virginity in the sense that he had never had the same chapter twice. There had never been a need or a desire for it. But then again, no woman had ever quit just when things were getting interesting either.

Interesting.

Rolling onto his side and fluffing his pillow, he contemplated the word. Was what happened between them so easily labeled? No. It wasn’t. What transpired between them was so much more than simply interesting. It had been absorbing, fucked up and life changing; for the both of them. Often during the eighteen months away from her, he wondered if he had to do it all over again, knowing the outcome, would he ask her to play his game? Would he take the same drastic measures as he did before? Would he let her read about his encounter with Chapter One and beat her the way he had?

There were some things he would definitely change – like the way he punished her in the end; he would erase that part and do it differently, but the rest of it? Maybe he would change it. Then again, maybe not. The way things played out had led them to learn so much about each other…

He punched at his pillow again and cut his thought short. There was no point in ruminating on what was done, yet here he was, fucking dwelling. His experience with Elsa had truly been mind altering, just as it had been with Chapter One, though for entirely different reasons and there really was no comparison. Still, neither experience was entirely good and neither of them completely bad, but both were utterly etched in his memory forever.

Even his work had been affected with both encounters – with One, negatively; with Eight, positively. In his effort to put Elsa out of his mind, he had concentrated on his work with such intensity; he had solved two cold cases during their time apart. It was a feat not only he, but his coworkers, were astounded by.

As if having to deal with the news of Elsa’s engagement wasn’t enough to deal with mentally, there was a copycat killer at large and public pressure was building to catch the murderer. This latest case was not only eating up his time, but taking its toll on his psyche, and was one for the criminal annals. The killer was emulating none other than Anthony Bruce, bringing the sociopath back into the spotlight and into his life yet again.

It was as if fate had intervened by giving him a reason to seek Elsa out to give him a distraction from work once more. Strangely, it seemed dark divine providence always had a hand in bringing them together; like their destinies were inexplicably linked. Was it coincidence or truly paranormal? He always knew he would reunite with her someday, but for it to come about right at the time of his greatest need seemed almost too perfect to write off as happenstance.

Although the timing may have been perfect, the reason was anything but.

Nathan’s face flickered behind Victor’s closed eyes and an irritated sigh slipped past his lips. Realizing that sleep was out of his reach, he turned on his beside lamp and reached for his journal.

Going against my own set of rules, I put aside monitoring you for the last forty-eight hours so that I could plan my attack. As it happens, you have me figured out and know my usual mode of operation and would most likely have been expecting to see me outside your window or following you. For this reason, I’m changing things up and I WILL NOT be so predictable this time. This round of the game, I’m going to make you work for my trust the way I had to work for yours. Just because you know more about me than anyone else, don’t, for one second, think that you have the upper hand. Remember, Peach, I also know all of your little perversions and secrets, and I have every intention of using all of that knowledge to my advantage.

As I sit here listening to the sound of the wind outside, I’m reminded of how you blew into my life like a deceptively gentle sea breeze only to wreak havoc on my life, turning it into a violent storm of confusion and self-doubt. Your hurricane-like effect forced me to examine myself and my motives – something that has had lasting repercussions on me to this day.

I am not the same man I was when I first met you and I have no doubt, that you are a different woman, as well. Are we better for the experience we shared together or worse for it? I suspect we’re a little of one and a lot of the other. Which one is which depends on the day.

You thought you could help me, but I didn’t need your help and I still don’t. But don’t count yourself a complete failure because you managed to succeed at one thing: you changed me. Just not into the man you were hoping for. That man you created in your fairytale world doesn’t exist nor will he ever. I have neither the time nor patience for such fantasies. Real life is what you get with me, Elsa. Real pleasure. Real consequences for your actions. Real pain for not following my set of rules. It sounds like a slice of heaven doesn’t it? You – under my roof, abiding by my rules and accepting my will? Why the fuck would I want to live in your make-believe world when my version of intimacy and reality is so much better?

No bad deed goes unpunished and your statement about Mr. Black being no one of importance will be dealt with accordingly. I’ll show you just how essential he really is in both our lives.

Right here, right now, I vow to be more vigilant with you. There will be no sneaking under my radar the way you did before.

I know you, Elsa, inside and out; your thoughts, motivations and true nature. You, on the other hand, only know what you’ve read in my journals. What’s encompassed on those pages is only a glimpse into the darkest parts of my soul. Perhaps this time I’ll allow you to delve further than merely skin deep.

What wicked fun we’ll have as you try to dissect me (undoubtedly you will try) while I in turn claim you, corrupt you, and make it so that no other man can fulfill your needs. That man you’ve said you’ll marry may have put a ring on your finger, but your heart and mind will always bear my mark of true ownership.

Our continuation begins now .

***

Another sleepless night had Elsa awake at 3:00 a.m. After having attempted to wake Nate for some one-on-one time and being rebuffed, she decided to put the dirty dishes in the dishwasher. Standing in front of her kitchen window, she flicked the overhead light off to get a better view of the street, still expecting to see Victor skulking around. Surprisingly, the past two days had been uneventful, other than her constant inner monologue and replaying of their meeting over and over in her head. After their face-to-face exchange, she had hid in the coat closet at the restaurant that night for nearly twenty minutes trying to contain the floodtide of emotions that had nearly threatened to make her lose her shit. Again.

Scanning the road for nearly a minute, she came to the conclusion that he was nowhere in the vicinity. Maybe he took the hint and beat a path back to wherever it was he was living now.

She lied to herself that she didn’t know what happened to him or where he was living, but of course, she did. A thing or two had been learned about stalking from the expert himself and she had kept tabs on him, off and on, during his absence. It was pathetic, but there was nothing else in her life to keep her thoughts occupied.

Nate was her partner, sure, but he lived his own life; had his own friends; kept himself busy with all sorts of work-related tasks and rarely stayed over. Their relationship was one of convenience; sex and companionship; and they had made no qualms about that. What else was she supposed to do? Sit around and wait like some love-sick puppy for whenever he decided to show up? That wasn’t her style. It made her wonder, though, if this is what their married life would be like. Most likely. And was that such a bad thing? Elsa liked her independence, after all.

Once more, she was lying to herself. She had become good at it. Lie or not, she knew what she needed in a relationship – what she truly wanted. But if Mr. Black had taught her anything, besides how to stalk someone, it was that there was no Prince Charming waiting to rescue her from her mundane life and fairy-tales were for the weak-minded.

What she really wanted was a strong man to take control the way Vic… Elsa slammed her palm onto the counter loudly in an attempt to rein in her thoughts. This was such bullshit. That man had ruined her life. She was over him. She had moved on. It had been hard, but she did it and now this was her life. THIS. Nate. Marriage. Possibly a family.

Victor had allowed Mr. Black to take over. He was broken and nothing would ever change that. She had tried. Gave it her all. Jesus, the scars proved that, and still, in the end, nothing had changed and he would never love her.

As she stood staring out the window, wishing on some fucked up level that he was out there, watching her, she found herself romanticizing about Victor the same way she had after her break up with Patrick and all the others. She had a good man sleeping in her bed – one that wanted to marry her. So what if he couldn’t say the words she so desperately yearned to hear? Eventually he would say them… right? And so what if he didn’t or never could? Who the hell was she to put such pressure on someone when she couldn’t even say them herself? They would learn to love each other, she repeated silently to herself.

Feeling a sob welling up in her throat, she forced it back down, closed her eyes and began slowly counting down from ten. When she got to four, she let out a lunatic laugh that sounded odd in her own ears. Apparently stalking wasn’t the only thing she picked up from Mr. Black.

*

A cancelled department meeting at work gave Elsa some unexpected down time. Finding her way to her favorite café on Grace Street; the very one where she was first accosted by the one and only Victor Laurenzo. She didn’t go there as often as she used to, finding it more difficult to see the familiar places that only brought back unhappy memories.

This day was different. She was healthy and alive, and after the blow she had struck to Mr. Black’s ego, she was feeling particularly vivacious. Her usual seat was taken so she grabbed the only one available that faced away from the door. The smell of coffee and baked goods made her belly rumble. She peered over her shoulder and out the window at the faint beams of sunlight flickering through the canopy of dark clouds overhead. Snow was predicted for that evening and she looked forward to the serene beauty of winter to take over and, hopefully, to spending an evening in Nate’s arms.

A quick dig into her messenger bag and she pulled out a magazine. The smell of citrus and bergamot sent a trickle of alarm slithering over her nerve endings. Apprehension tightened her throat when she felt a man’s presence behind her. There was no need to turn around. She knew in an instant who it was.

The movement of air around her and crackling electricity made the fine hairs on her arms stand up when he seated himself across from her. The penetrating look in his eyes sent panic worming its way up her spine. Victor’s muscular body leaned back into the vinyl as his index finger made lazy circles on the tabletop, and Elsa was suddenly hit with déjà vu. While his hard gaze sent her a silent message, she felt the same damned attraction for him she felt over a year ago.

Holy hell. She was just as fucked up as he was.

He had hurt her beyond repair, yet she was still captivated by him. Disgusted and angry, too, but undeniably fascinated. He was still harboring his secrets and despite having forced herself to move past him, those untold secrets haunted her to this day.

A silent stare passed between them as she fought to suppress the shudder of fear mingled with infuriation that was coursing through her. Of course he would show up. How stupid of her to think that she could get away from him so easily. Of course he had been watching her. He had simply gotten better at it.

“They’re predicting snow.”

The blasé statement out of Victor’s mouth caught her off guard.

Her response came just as nonchalant. “Yeah.”

“Are you ready for winter?”

The ridiculousness of his question staggered her. This is what he had shown up for, to discuss the weather? “Sure,” she shrugged her shoulders.

“You haven’t said two words to me since I sat down.”

Elsa sat straight up to give him what he asked for. “Fuck off. That’s two words. Or how about a few more? You ruined my fucking life. How many words is that?”

He winced, his eyes settling on the pout of her lips. “I’m sorry I brought it up.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “You should be sorry for more than that.”

Frown lines marred his brow and his broad shoulders sagged. “Whether or not you believe me, I am.”

Her heart slammed against her ribs and her mouth dropped open, but she promptly shut it. It was just another one of his damned lies and she wasn’t falling for it this time – no matter how sincere he looked or how beautiful he was.

With his eyes closed, his fingertips rubbed the area above his right eye before pausing to pull himself together. "We can save that conversation for another time.”

She quickly organized her scattered thoughts and felt her mouth twist in revulsion at his presumptuousness. “There won’t be any more conversations between the two of us after this, so whatever is on your mind, say it now.”

“You’re wrong about that,” his voice lowered. “There will be more.”

Her body stiffened at the staunch look in his eyes and she began to rise from the booth when his voice halted her movement. “It’s hard to believe that the Elsa I know is marrying a man she clearly doesn’t have an investment in.”

Investment. There it was again. That dreaded word that inundated her with unwanted memories of their jacked-up, brief time together. Her brown eyes narrowed down to slits. He had a helluva lot of nerve telling her what she did and did not have an investment in. And she sure as fuck wasn’t the same woman he thought he knew.

"Why don't you direct those keen observation skills onto yourself and get your own shit together before you tell me how to live my life, Mr. Black," she emphasized his preferred title as her body began to shake with anger.

With staid calmness, his sparkling irises focused on her mouth. "I know you think what I did to you was harsh. And I'll admit that many of my methods were severe. But you can't deny that what I put you through didn’t make you stronger."

Elsa’s mouth parted with shock. The fucking nerve. "Harsh?” she hissed. “It was more than that and you damn well know it. Here’s a news flash: you didn't make me stronger; you made me bitter and afraid to love again,” she whispered contemptuously as she leaned across the table, ready to lunge at him and slap his perfectly chiseled and stubbled jawline.

Some indecipherable emotion flashed across his face. Regret? Shame? Hurt? No… she reminded herself that it was more likely satisfaction that he was feeling, especially after he put her through everything he did.

"You fell in love easily enough with Mr. Duncan. So much so that you're willing to take his name,” he casually pointed out.

Gathering her wits, she crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. "I care deeply for Nate, but what I feel for him isn't love. I doubt I'll ever be able to feel that emotion again."

His left brow shot up. "Then I was right. You are settling.”

She had promised herself that if she ever came face-to-face with Mr. Black again, she wouldn’t admit to him how bad he messed her up. But now, in the situation and his accusation lingering and stabbing at her, there was no holding back. "No, I'm accepting that this is as good as it’s ever going to get for me."

Black half-circles lined his eyes as he stared at her unyieldingly. "You deserve better."

"You're in no position to determine what’s best for me." Nearly a year and a half had passed and he had the gall to tell her that she deserved better? Why did he show up anyway? To remind her of how stupid she’d been to trust him? How ignorant she’d been to profess her love for him? She had reminded herself plenty and she didn’t need any help from him. Furious, she stood to leave but felt his warm fingers wrap around her wrist.

"Sit."

God, his touch… so controlling… so devastating. Her knees threatened to buckle beneath her. She didn’t want this. Not again. What little shards were left of her heart couldn’t withstand Victor’s tenderness and Mr. Black’s wrath.

Snatching her wrist away, she moved out of his reach. "This is all a little too familiar, only this time I know the outcome."

"Elsa... please." The gritty, desperate quality of Victor’s voice and his mossy-colored eyes, pleaded with her and sent her brain spiraling.

Quickly, his face emptied of all emotion with only his stone cold mask staring back at her. With his composure back in check, the heat of anger darkened his eyes to ebony and his voice changed. Mr. Black was back. Unconsciously she cringed as she recalled the sting of leather on her back. Mr. Black’s actions of that last horrible day with him would forever be emblazoned on the skin over her shoulder blades and seared into her psyche.

“I want you to play my game again and if you don’t say yes, I can and will make you play.”

A dull ache beating a rhythm inside her skull that had been present since the night of her engagement party suddenly punched through her frontal lobe.

The game. That’s what all this was about. The moment he heard she was moving on, he made his plans to put a stop to allowing her to live her life without him.

Gritting her teeth, her question came out shrill. “Are you threatening me?’

Her vision blurred for a moment as adrenaline surged through her but when it came back into sharp focus on his face, his eyes stirred with irritation.

“No, merely stating my intent.”

Her chest tightened so hard she swore she heard her ribs crack. Fear whipped through her like a violent storm and she backed away. As his eyes moved over her face and body, it was obvious that he was trying to gauge the emotions emitting from her. She screamed at herself in silence to keep her cool and not give him the pleasure of seeing her anxiety. She fixed him with a stubborn stare and pushed her chest out. She wouldn’t allow him to win again. Never. Fucking. Again.

Slowly his expression softened and the tensing of his jaw muscle subsided. “If you play, I’ll terminate our contract.”

Glaring at him in utter shock, she huffed. “That piece of paper is no contract. It never was. I played because…” she let the unspoken statement hang in the air. He knew exactly why she played; because she thought she could help him; because she needed what he had to offer; and despite everything he had put her through, she had fallen for him.

Without hesitation, he plunged on, “If you play…” but then suddenly hesitated. His mouth opened and closed several times and his voice dropped an octave before finally finishing his statement. “I’ll sever all ties with you and allow you to live your life.”

With rounded eyes, her heart lurched into her throat. “Are you serious?” Her voice was scarcely a whisper.

She didn’t have to worry about seeing him hiding in the shadows anymore? Or dread the click of the phone when he listened in on her conversations? She would never feel his eyes on her again or smell his cologne on the darkened street anymore?

“Do you really mean that?” she asked again in disbelief.

“Yes,” he ground his teeth bitterly.

His voice became softer yet. “Yes.”

She struggled to accept his words and not cry out for joy, but the nagging sense of distrust was ever present. “Then say the words Victor. Say you promise to leave me alone if I agree.”

Clearly exasperated with her, he began to fidget with his tie and averted his gaze. “I don’t make promises.”

And there it was. Mr. Black’s out.

“If you can’t give me a promise, then I won’t play your damned game.” Elsa’s nerve and fortitude returned and her tone became lethal. “And let me be clear on my intent: if you plan on going through with trying to make me play your sick game again, you’ve just signed both our death warrants because I swear to you and God, right here and now, I’ll send us both to hell before I let you…”

He swiftly cut her off as he stared into her eyes. “I promise.”

Her mouth hung open in disbelief. Shifting from foot to foot, she was now faced with another life-changing decision. “I can’t agree to anything right now,” she began to stutter.” I just can’t make that kind of rushed decision.”

“I understand,” he stated uncharacteristically empathetic. “I’ll contact you in three days’ time.”

“No,” she blared unintentionally when panic inundated her. She didn’t need Victor screwing things up between her and Nate. “I need time to clear my head. I’ll contact you when I’m ready.”

Reaching out to her, he slipped something that he had retrieved from his pocket into her hand. As she stared down at the familiar old East Grace Street key, another wave of anxiety gripped her. It was always about ultimatums with Victor. Do this, or else; do that, or else. Why couldn’t he just have left her alone? Why did he have to show up and snatch away the happiness that had been within reach? Could she trust him to keep his promise of letting her live a life uninterrupted? She had no choice.

“Don’t make me wait, Elsa,” his voice lowered to a menacing tone, “…and don’t make me come for you.”