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I get to see Camille again. I wasn’t lying when I told the man I had a fun date. Messing with her has become my favorite pastime. Even better than the torture session I just left.
I haven’t gone near Camille in the past five days. It took all of my willpower to stay away, but I’ve been waiting for my revenge for a decade, so I’m not going to rush things. I also realize I need to get my head centered. Gather my strength so I can deal with her properly.
Camille has an odd effect on me. I had planned to be crueler to her when I forced myself on her. I wanted to make the sex painful, wanted her bleeding and puking, crawling because she was in such agony she couldn’t walk. But something stopped me, some treacherous little voice in my head whispered to me that I should humiliate her by forcing her to love it instead.
I can’t deny I enjoyed making her want me. I loved how mortified she was when I dragged her out on the balcony, her body clenched and quivering, crystalline tears leaking from her eyes. I’m thrilled she orgasmed for me, no matter how desperately she fought it.
Forcing her to expose her naked body to the crowd and making her come in front of them—just thinking about it makes me angry. Why the fuck do I care that others saw her naked? I don’t love her. I hate her. What do I care if she was exposed to the world?
Because she’smine.
I’m afraid that she’s weakening me. I think on some level I’m making excuses for myself, going easier on her than I should. This has to stop. I’m stronger than this. I’m stronger than any residual feelings I have for her. I’m a man on a mission, and I will carry that mission out to the end. Then I’ll kill her for what she did to me.
And what will you live for when she’s gone?a traitorous voice whispers in my head as I drive, hurrying toward my sweet little Camille.You’ll win the challenge, you’ll win Eternal Glory, you’ll be the new ruler of the Franklin family, and you’ll have nothing to live for. Nobody you care enough about to punish.
If I could exterminate that voice, I’d strangle it slowly.
I banish the voice. I am about to ruin her night and want to enjoy every second of it. She’s supporting a friend showing her artwork at a gallery, which means a lot to her. It’s something that Camille herself is trying to break into. It’s been her greatest wish, and being as she’s lost her job, if she’s able to network with the right people, who knows what could come of it. Artwork started as a hobby for her, but she hopes to turn it into a good side gig where she can pull in some decent cash. Well, that isn’t happening.
I slip in through a side door and watch her as she warily scans the crowd. She’s still beautiful, but my actions have taken a toll on her. There are faint circles under her eyes. A hunted expression haunts her lovely face.
The crowd is a stuffy old money Philadelphia crowd, and she’s dressed primly in a sparkly green evening gown with a high neckline and low hemline. The artwork is modern but tasteful. Her friend Pandora does pretty abstracts in jewel tones, and her artwork is collages of city skylines made with found objects. Just like Camille. It’s how they bonded.
I take my time, lurking in the corners, watching her, always keeping my head low. She can sense it; she glances around uneasily, searching for the source of the disturbance in the force. She gulps down two glasses of champagne in quick succession, drawing some looks from the prissy observers around her.
If she were smart, she’d stay put. I’m not about to accost her in front of an audience. But Camille is predictable. Those stares and subsequent glares from those who witnessed her less-than-classy consumption of the bubbly surely have her feeling subconscious and needing to flee the scene.
When she goes down the hallway to the ladies’ room, I pounce, dragging her down the hall into the storage room with my hand clamped over her mouth. I leave the door open and force her toward the wall.
“Scream, and your family pays for it,” I snap. I take my hand off her mouth.
She flails wildly and manages to get one lucky punch to the eye. When I’m in a heightened state of excitement like this, I don’t even register pain in a normal way. It’s just an endorphin rush, flushing my body with adrenaline.
I drop my hands and grin.
“Very nice. Want another one?” I throw my hands up and stand there waiting. “Come on. I’m going to use your body for my own pleasure, destroy your life and then kill you. One free shot to the face. You know you want to.”
She shakes her head. Her emerald eyes shimmer with tears. “This isn’t fair. You’re destroying me for one mistake I made when I was practically still a child.”
Cue the violins.
She’s up against the wall, hands pressed behind her. Her ample tits strain against her dress, and I have to force myself to look at her face. I grab her chin and squeeze hard, tipping her head up to look at me. “What we had was ageless. It was timeless. We had the purest, most beautiful connection two human beings could ever feel. And you destroyed it for all eternity.”
“You’re wrong.” She’s crying now. “That can’t be true. If it was real love, it couldn’t die.”
I’m furious at her for saying that—because I believed that too, and the death of that belief chewed me up from the inside out. “It could if you killed it,” I say through clenched teeth.
The fear and misery twisting her face is turning me on. I push her dress up and move my cock between her legs. I’m hard and want her to feel it.
She punches my chest, raining furious blows on my rib cage. Light little love taps that send rushes of blood to my dick. “The hell with you, you psycho bastard. If one mistake could ruin everything, then it was never love.”
It was love. Itwaslove.Only love could make me hate like this. I wouldn’t be feeling consumed by blackness, eaten away by poison if it hadn’t been love.
She manages to knee me between the legs, and instinctively, I double over. Pain radiates from my balls to my shaft. My stomach turns, but I’ve endured worse.
My eyes are watering, but I don’t miss her attempt to run. I take off after her and bring her down to the ground. She lands with a painful thud. I’m on top of her, on the carpeted floor, out in the open where anyone could stumble upon us. I roll her over so she’s looking at me.
“You’ll pay for that.” I grin down at her.
