For once, avoidance isn’t fun.
I just want a chance to apologize. I was hoping he would see my ulterior motives, but he left and he didn’t look back, so I know he’s not going to forgive me easily and I don’t know if I can fight this time around. My bid at protecting him only landed me in hotter water than before, and the way I’m feeling, I’m not sure I can be the one who fights for us. Not if it’ll end with me flat on my ass watching him walk away from the small progress we had made.
A part of me wants to believe it’s because he’s playing his role in this shoddy plan I threw together on the spot, but how can that be when he doesn’t even know the plan? I can only pray my misery is one that is short-lived because I want to go back to that afterglow we created; the one where it was just blissful and calm and there were no weights on my shoulders. However, since he left the grand room after that confrontation with my father, the dread in me has only been blackening as every minute passes. The longer I remain silent with him on the matter, the worse the trepidation becomes.
I shift on my towel, positioning my body so it looks most appealing. The black bikini itself is lacking in material, held together with delicate string details and the only covering is to keep some modesty but doesn’t leave much to the imagination. The color really draws out the tan that Italy gifted me with, and I feel as if the sensuality could actually be pouring from me. I just hope that it’s enough to make him look at me, but Zane is so involved, he barely breaks a stride as he moves agilely through the water, let alone looks at me.
Falling back, I watch from my sun lounger, sunglasses hiding the fact that my sole attention is on him, and watch as he glides through the water like a majestic animal. The water glides over his fit, tanned body in beautiful rivers of blue waves. He moves so elegantly through the water, it's truly mesmerizing and as I feel the wetness pool in my bikini bottoms, I find myself itching to feel his touch. I want that full consumption he made me feel. I want him to devour me like he used to. But I can't have any of it. I signed that horrible deal myself.
"Stop staring, sweetheart," Zane shouts as he stops at the far end, holding onto the edge. He clears water from his face as he turns to looks over at me. He pulls himself up, lounging against the wall of the pool, arms spread out along the marbled flooring that surrounds the water. "As you said yourself, we aren’t anything.”
“I didn’t say that.” I’m quick to defend.
“So I paraphrased,” he comments turning his back to me and pulling himself from the water. The water rushes off him, leaving him a glistening beauty in the midday sun. “Sue me.”
“Look, I know it looked bad, but you have to see this all from my point of view.” I struggle not to get irate with him because I know shouting at him will do nothing but cause him to throw up all defenses. “I have to lie,” I say, and he scoffs. “I have to say and do things I’m not proud of, nor do I mean, to appease men like my father. Because, had you not noticed, Zane, I live in a world where they don’t care much. My failure to kill you is something that has caused a lot of doubt in me, and yes, I will admit I am not the person I put on show, but you’ve proven that clearly I’m better at my disguise than I thought.”
“I don’t know what to believe around you, Amelia,” Zane states. The tension he emits shows as the muscles of his throat begin to tighten, his jaw clenches, and he looks fit to burst with inner frustration. “One minute you want me to take you, the next we’re just lying together as if nothing in the world matters and the next it’s all got to be kept secret. Top that with the fact you told a room full of your family and Lorenzo, might I add, that you’re just in it for the sex and you want me to feel pain like you did because of me.” His face begins to redden; those beautiful eyes of his twist and watch with such anger. “Well, guess what, Amelia? You managed it. I have never been more humiliated or hurt than I was last night after having bled myself dry to you.” All of a sudden, his posture falls with defeat. “I might have broken your heart twice, but you’re just showing to me that maybe this isn’t ever going to work.”
“No,” I whisper, my heartbreak exploding. I can’t allow him to think that. “Zane,” I say, standing. I toss my sunglasses aside and rush to be by his side. “Please, hear me out.”
“I heard you out,” he grunts, picking up his towel to dry himself. “If this is all some game to you, I won’t be a part of it. I won’t fight for someone who seemingly has other intentions. I won’t put my heart out for you to destroy it. I guess it’s what I deserve, but I thought we were past that.”
“We are,” I tell him. I want nothing more than to reach out and shake him.
“We aren’t,” Zane states, putting a hand up to stop me. “If we were, Amelia, you wouldn’t have chosen to keep Daddy sweet. You proved again that it will always be your family over me, and I won’t be some pawn for you to get your own way.”
“It’s not like that,” I argue, but I can see this is going to be a terrible fight to win. Zane seems set on the betrayal I presented him with and that’s on me.
“Then what is it?” Zane barks his questions. “From where I’m looking at, it seems that everyone is just some step into you finding that fucking absolution you always wanted. Well, guess what, Amelia? I won’t be the one offering you it anymore.” He throws the towel aside to put his hands into his hair, tearing at it with the frustration I’ve caused. “And the worst part is that I really thought I had gotten through to you, really made you see why I am here. I should have known that crap about wanting me to dominate you and claim you were all part of some bigger, elaborate plan.”
“It’s not some plan!” I bellow so harshly my eyes water. I see the delicate tapestry of our story becoming a chaotic mess. It’s gone from this beautifully woven tale with heart wrenching moments to utter destruction. It’s as if mine and Zane’s love story is forever set to repeat itself and I’m not sure I’ll be able to survive the repetition of loving him and losing him because of my buried and deep loyalties. “It’s not,” I say, my voice shrinking because that performance last night was part of a plan, one I never gave him insight to.
“Bella!” Lorenzo’s voice bursts into the tension and immediately, the thunderous look on Zane’s face darkens furthermore.
“Just fucking great. Lover boy number one’s on his way down for some attention,” Zane mutters and goes over to the sun lounger where he threw his towel and throws himself down on it. He relaxes, putting his hands behind his head. “Go pet him, Amelia. Wouldn’t want him to feel fucking neglected. Maybe you can have a do-over of what I did to you yesterday. See if he fills the gap better than me.”
“Zane,” I try, ignoring Lorenzo advancing closer and closer.
“Don’t,” he stops me with a cold tone. “You do what you need to. I’d hate to see you disappoint any other people now.”
Giving up, I retreat to my bed across the pool from Zane and as I sit on it, my sunlight – and view of Zane – disappears from sight as Lorenzo stands before me. I look up only to find him smiling brightly at me. I don’t say a word, push myself onto the bed more and lounge out. Lorenzo takes this as an invite and sits on the bed with me, grabbing my hand in his. He goes to speak only to be disrupted by a horde of annoying giggles. When I look, Giovanni’s coming down to the pool surrounded by three giggling girls. I roll my eyes, especially as Zane’s interest piques and his angry demeanor disperses.
I now know I have to do some damage control and that starts with Lorenzo.
But when I look back, he’s teetering forward, his pupils swollen with pleasure and his lips beginning to purse. I’m invariably trapped beneath him as he towers over me, and I can see Zane now looking over at us. I can feel his gaze burn into me, and I know how it must seem to him – me wanting Lorenzo, not pushing away on his advances, but if only he could hear what I am about to say. Maybe it would save us all a lot of heartbreak.
“I think it’s best you went back to Italy,” I begin to tell Lorenzo, and I feel bad as his happy expre
ssion shatters. “This, what we had, wasn’t meant to last. I don’t want you, Lorenzo.”
“Is this because of last night?” he asks, his voice dropping lower than it was when he called out for me. “It doesn’t bother me. I’m good at sex. I can do that until you love me.” He runs a hand up my leg, leaning forward more, creating some sort of intimate moment, but my discomfort is exceeding normal levels.
“No,” I say, pushing him away enough to break the intimacy. “This has nothing to do with that, and everything to do with me. You aren’t who I want. You came here believing I could love you, but I won’t ever feel what you do.”
Lorenzo gives a small chuckle before replying to me, “You don’t want me to leave really.”
As if to prove me wrong, he moves forward more, really coming to land a fucking kiss on me. I can feel my anger boiling and so I push him off completely before it can erupt, but as soon as I move him to clear my view, Zane’s stare is no longer on me and he’s now got a skinny redhead on his lap. He’s laughing joyfully, and I can see he really likes the newfound attention.
“If that’s what you want,” Lorenzo begins to mutter and looks back at Zane. “He brought her back last night so he must really like her.”
With his piece said, Lorenzo gets up and leaves, and I’m left staring aghast at Zane, who’s now framing the stranger’s face and before I have time to look away, he’s drawing her down so he can kiss her. I’m surprised the crack that ran through my heart wasn’t so audible he stopped, but instead he carries on. The more I watch, the more heartache and anger meet. I’m sieving and striving to watch anything but the sight before me. However, the more I watch, the more I’m pretty convinced he's trying to clean her teeth for her. He’s really working her to enjoy the time she has with him and I sit here like an envious little fool. Why am I jealous of that?! Why am I jealous of Zane playing tonsil tennis with a complete fucking bimbo? That’s right, because I made it so convincing that I was just in it for the sex that he no longer cares for my emotional welfare. Nor will he care at the ache that’s consuming me so painfully that I fear I’m about dissolve into tears.
I see movement and watch his hand come up her back, toying with the string to her skimpy bikini. I'm suddenly confused, overwhelmed with bafflement. Last night he was confessing the undying love he held for me and now he's here, allowing women to drape all over him and he’s clearly offering the advances. My tortuous memory throws forward my own mistakes from just last night, hissing at me the reasons he’s now being brutal. But as I feel this gauntlet of emotion rip through me, it’s all I can do not to allow it all to show on my face. As my eyes water, I know I’m soon going to fail on that aspect.
The final cut comes when Zane – continuing to kiss the stranger – looks directly at me. Our eyes meet and I try my hardest not to let him see my hurt, but I’m sure he can see he’s won. If this is the payback he wanted to hit me with, he’s winning. Anytime I see another woman threatening what fragile foundations Zane and I are forever building upon, I lose total control and only ever feel deep hurt. The worse thing is that I deserve all of this.
I have no right to go over there, drag that woman from my man’s lap by her shoddy extensions, and claim him as mine. I had that chance last night and I blew it beautifully. So convincingly that Giovanni is finally bonding with Zane over something – women.
With his eyes still on me, Zane deepens the kiss. The part that finishes me most is when he pulls her more onto his lap, both hands cupping ravenously at her ass as she now straddles him. I realize I can’t take any more of this torture and as the tears weave themselves along my lashes, I know I have to go. I stand up slowly, leaving all my things and begin to strut across the poolside until I’m passing Zane and Giovanni and heading up toward the house.
I’m grateful that I make it past them all before the tears start their onslaught. It’s far from pretty once they start, and I must look like a hot mess as I flee in nothing but a tiny bikini, my face screwed up as I allow every ounce of my heartache begin to reach the surface.
Going toward the patio doors that lead into the kitchen, I slam my flat palms against them, throwing both doors open. I need to find a sanctum; somewhere I can lick my wounds and rediscover the girl who came back to Manhattan – the tough, heartless one. I panic about where to really go to find such a damaging relief. If I go to my room, there’s a chance I’ll be found. If I stay in the kitchen, I’ll be caught. So I start to descend into the gym, knowing that I can work off my frustration against one of the punching bags then I can go on like normal. I can cover my tears with heavy grunts as I smack fist after fist into that red bag. The way I’m feeling right now I’d happily punch until I do damage.
When I hit that bottom step into the gym, I propel myself toward the punching bag, my bare feet pounding on the flooring of the gym, even though the tears still fall, I’m very much encompassed by a wrath of fury so hell-bent on pain that I know I need to work out all my emotions. I waste no time to stake my attack, and I feel the bright burst of pain flare in my knuckles, the throbbing soars up my arms, awakening every other pain receptor except my heart. Without appropriate strapping around my hands or gloves to protect me, I feel every hit, punch, and attack I offer in a bid to flee my own emotions. My pace hardens and becomes a battery of assaults until I feel the pain in my heart flare up and overtake me. I give up quickly, my emotions all too overwhelming and I slide down the punching bag, crumpling beneath it.
How can I be the dangerous catalyst that ruins it all? I’m the fucking cause of every one of mine and Zane’s issue. I am the one to blame for this misery I condemn myself with all too often.
Strong hands grab me fiercely, forcing him to sit up straight, but I need to get away. I want no one to see me like this. When I see the bleary vision of Zane through my water filled eyes, I fight him all the more.
"No!" I shriek, pushing him away harshly. “Let me go!”
“No, Amelia,” he defies me, holding on against all my writhing to get free. He’s not willing to let me go, I can feel it just in the way his hands encase my arms. He wants me to realize that I am not getting away from this ruinous moment we are about to cause. He usually likes to confront things, as do I, but right now, what I’m feeling is not something I want to admit. My harsh tongue will not hold back from revealing everything he has made me feel. “I’m sorry, it meant nothing.”
“No, you don’t get to play with me like that. Sure, what I did last night hurt, but actions hurt just as much as words, you bastardo!” I scream at him, and I see he’s not budging. So instead of struggling with this alone, I decide to tell him what I was telling Lorenzo. “I told Lorenzo to go home, to leave because I don’t love him, and when I push him off you’re all over a girl.” I close my eyes as the images resurface. “You were touching her and kissing her and, God, you watched me while you did it!”
“I was hurting,” he speaks, and I shake him off all the more. “I was lashing out.”
“Well, it fucking worked!” I decide not to hold back anymore. I just need to tell him all the truths. “Everything I said to my father last night was a lie, but you didn’t give me a chance to prove that to you. I would’ve spent my life apologizing for every single word I told him last night, but you just had to go one better and hurt me back.”
“I just wanted you to feel how I did,” he replies, almost solemnly. He looks away from me, ashamed of himself. “I was so angry and I still was, still am! You weren’t telling me straight out that you lied, you didn’t force me to think otherwise. I was just angry and I wanted you to feel what I was feeling.”
“And it worked,” I remark coldly. “Now let me go!” I fight until I finally slip away and he tries to grab at me again, his apology marring his beautiful face. "When you broke up with me last time I felt like I was drowning. Suddenly this huge wave crashed into me and it took me by surprise. One moment I was living on cloud fucking nine with the man I loved with my entire heart and the next I was being condemn
ed by him and cast into the only fiery hell he believed I deserved! You made me feel like that again and all because I’m a convincing fucking liar." As my anger mounts, so do my tears. Each one attaches to a lash, preparing for a watery onslaught. "I thought years of abuse at my father's hands would kill me, but it was you. You were always going to destroy me and I was the blind fool who allowed you to come in and take the opportunity time and time again." I begin to laugh, hysterically might I add! “And I really don’t know why I allow you to do it.”
Apparently, that admittance is enough for Zane to let me go. In our most intimate moments, I stole tiny pieces of Zane, as I had allowed him to do to me, and now they bleed with dishonesty and begin to shatter as we argue. We were always meant to be explosive – I felt it in my blood every time we kissed – but I never wanted it to be catastrophic. We were never meant to tear one another apart. We were never meant to destroy one another with callous words and malicious actions. We were never meant to kill the hope we both gave one another. Not when I had only ever loved him to death with the faith that our reincarnation would be invincible.
“I thought we were destined for something beautiful,” I begin to say and although my eyes water, I remain strong. “But all we keep doing is devastating one another. I’m not sure I can do it anymore. You believe the words I tell my father, and I believe what I see you do. It’s just never going to work. You were right, though, I’m always looking for absolution.”
“I didn’t mean that,” he tells me, his apparent anger quickly sobering up.
“It doesn’t matter,” I tell him with a tiny shrug of my shoulder. “I was bleeding out long before you twisted that knife.”
Wiping my face, I force myself away from him and stand up. There are so many things I want to say, but I’m unsure if I want to fight a battle that always ends up lost. I’m tired of everything, and it’s not until now I truly feel how much my life has drained me. I have to live with a man I love, but it doesn’t mean I have to love him and maybe that’s my safest bet. Family is a business in this household and business doesn’t mean pleasure.
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