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“Thank you,” I say turning on my heel and walking down the stairs.
27
Casimira
Present-day
Manhattan, New York City
I feel like I’ve been punched in the chest. Every time I think the pain starts to fade, I remember everything I’ve told this man. I remember every touch and every smile and the pain hits me ten times harder. I hate liars and this man has strung me along, feeding me a false vision of our future together just to rip it away. My heart and my head are in an all-out war with each other. My brain can't forgive it but my heart, it bleeds for him.
It's been three days since he told me. I spent the next day in bed pathetically crying for the majority of it. I got my sorry self up yesterday and dragged myself to the gym, determined to cheer myself up. It didn’t work. I’ve had to start turning my phone off, he doesn’t stop calling or texting. I don’t answer because I know if I do and I hear his voice I will probably forgive him and I don’t want to. Call it stubbornness, call it pride, I don’t care. He’s hurt me, more than I’ve ever been hurt before.
The gifts started arriving two days ago. Pretty much every piece of jewellery I ever mentioned in passing to him. He even got me the zodiac pendant from Van Cleef with the Pisces fish on it. I never told him my star sign, so he's either secretly into astrology or he searched it up. Either way, I hate him.
Some of these pieces I’ve dreamt about for years, wanted to buy for myself and now it’s all just tainted because it’s a ‘sorry I fucked up’ gift. I’ve done the maths and honestly, I could buy a small island with it all. It means nothing. It’s not softened me towards him. If anything it’s made me angrier. He can’t buy me. He can’t just rip my heart out, stomp on it, shove it back in my chest, buy me some gold and think it will solve everything. It solves nothing.
I don’t have a price, no matter what people think. My worth can’t be brought in cash.
I've been at work for an hour and I'm not in the right mindset to be here. I need to snap myself out of it. I’m in the changing rooms, fixing my hair or just avoiding the floor altogether when Alexis comes in. Her dark hair in two space buns on top of her head and a bead of sweat running down her bronze chest. “Cas, someone’s just booked a private room with you.”
I spin around to face her frowning. “Who? I haven’t even spoken to anyone that much tonight.” I know it's none of my regulars, there’s only two who come in on a Thursday night and not until much later.
“I’m not sure, Sophie just told me to come get you. Room two.”
I let out a lengthy exhale as I internally gather the energy to get off my seat. Alexis pauses at the door before coming behind me and putting a hand on my shoulder. “You holding up alright, Hun?”
I rest my head against her hand and sigh. “It's just a lot.”
She smiles, understanding in her eyes. “I know. Do you wanna grab an early breakfast when we finish? On me. You can vent to your heart's content.”
I nod. “Yeah. That sounds good actually.”
She gives my shoulder a squeeze and heads back for the door. After a few minutes of trying to put myself back in the right headspace, I follow her down to the back of the club that holds all the private rooms. It's strange someone has requested me specifically. It usually takes me at least ten minutes on the main floor to persuade someone to book a private room as they cost $1000 for 20 minutes. I stop outside the door and take a breath getting myself back into character.
As soon as I open the door my face drops, along with my heart. Enzo stands facing me. His stubble is way longer than I’ve ever seen it and he looks shattered. Not nearly as put together as normal but still so handsome, it hits me in the stomach like a sucker punch.
“No.” I turn around to walk out but he puts a hand on the door slamming it before I can leave. I take a deep breath, steeling myself to turn around.
“I told you I wanted space, this.” I say gesturing between us, “is not space.”
He looks like he’s in genuine pain when he says. “It's been three days, you have to let me explain.”
My lip curls up. “I don’t have to do anything. If I say I’m not ready to talk, I’m not ready to talk.” I fold my arms over my chest trying to stay as strong as possible. “And stop with the bloody gifts! I’m not your mistress who you buy nice things and fuck whenever you’re not with your wife. I’m a first choice or I’m not a choice at all.” I jab a finger at his chest. “And no I don’t want you to pick me over your Fiancée!” I really desperately do and it makes me feel so awful.
He takes a step towards me, I recede a step, putting my back against the door. I let out a shaky breath, my resolve is starting to break. Tears start to sting my eyes, threatening to spill over.
His jaw clenches and he lowers his face to mine, eyes dark and wild. “I told you, I’m not going through with it. I am yours.” He growls at me and my breath lodges in my throat.
Yours. Mine.
His hand comes up the other side of my head. “I’ll get on my knees, I’ll tell the whole fucking world. I don’t care. Drag me over glass, string me up and peel my skin off. My answer will be the same. Anything that’s still of use inside my chest is yours. I belong to you and only you.”
I try to find an ounce of anything but truth in his eyes, in his posture, in his face. He means it all.
“Enzo you lied to me, this whole time.” My voice breaks and I turn my head to the side so I don't have to look at his face.
He runs his hands over his face. “I know, I fucked up.” I meet his eyes just for a second and they go round and hurt at whatever he sees. “I should have been honest with you but I can't take it back, I can only change what happens now.” I want to forgive him so bad. I want to tell him everything’s fine and I don’t care but I shouldn’t.
