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.