32. Connor
Chapter 32
Conno r
What the hell was I thinking?
I thought I could be what she wanted.
Her Chris.
But the more time we spent together, the more I wanted her to see me for me.
Connor.
Not a mask or an idea.
So I pushed. Pushed for her to forget Chris. Pushed for her to want me as much as I want her.
And now… now I’ve made a right mess of it all.
Hearing that name on her lips was like a punch to the gut. Because she wasn’t really seeing me at all. Just some fantasy. An illusion I helped create.
I shouldn’t have gotten so angry after she confronted me. Shouldn’t have stormed off like an idiot. But the thought that she might still be hung up on Chris, that she might not really want me at all…
I squeeze my eyes shut, but her words echo in my mind like a torturous refrain ‘I love you, Connor. Not Chris. You’.
Those four words should make me happy. I’ve craved hearing them for so long. Yet her addendum, ‘Not Chris’. Does she really love me, Connor Milton? Or does she only love the fantasy of me being that asshole Chris?
Because let’s be real.
Chris is a goddamn dream for her. The mystery man who swept in, fucked her brains out one incredible night, then vanished like a fucking ghost. The unattainable object of desire who left her yearning for more. I can never compete with the mythology surrounding him.
And that’s the sickest part—I am Chris. I’m the one who blindfolded her and made her come undone with my mouth and hands. I’m the one who left her alone and confused the next morning with nothing but a fucking sticky note. I shattered her trust and abandoned her after taking her virginity.
I’m the piece of shit she should despise, not fantasize about. Yet she clings to that night like it was some magical, romantic encounter instead of the selfish, fucked up violation it truly was.
I want to tell her the truth so badly. To rip off the mask, both literal and metaphorical, and confess that I’m the monster she’s been pining for all along.
But I can’t .
Because once I shatter that illusion, she’ll realize just how twisted and depraved I truly am. She’ll see that Chris wasn’t some idealized lover, but a heartless prick who used and discarded her.
Part of me thinks she’d be better off hating me for who I really am rather than loving the lie of Chris. At least then, she’d be free of the delusion tying her to that night.
To me.
She could move on and find someone worthy of her light, her warmth, her radiant fucking smile.
But I’m too selfish, too greedy. I’d rather she see me as her dream man than the nightmare I’ve become. So I’ll keep playing along, being whatever version of me she wants. Her perfect, loving boyfriend. Her fucktoy. Her soulmate.
Her ‘not Chris’.
I could walk away now. Disappear from her life as easily as I entered it. It would be the smart thing to do. The safe choice.
But when have I ever played it safe where Mary is concerned?
Because as long as she wants me, I’ll give her anything she desires. Even if it means drowning myself in the depths of my own deceit. Even if it means I can never truly have her love, only her infatuation with a dead man walking.
If only she knew the truth. That every touch, every kiss, every night spent tangled in her sheets is a lie. That the man she loves is just a mask concealing the monster who shattered her in the first place.
I’m not her Connor .
I’m not her Chris.
I’m just me.
A fucked up, depraved shell of a man unworthy of her light. And I’ll keep lying to make her stay, even if it means living a lie forever.
I need a drink.
I pull out my phone—
What the…
I do a double take when I see Mary’s location.
What is she doing here? Did something happen?
Accessing the camera feeds, I see Gemma walking into the elevator and Mary and Lil standing in the lobby.
I quickly text Elijah.
Connor: Gemma is on her way to you.
Elijah: I know.
Mary isn’t here for me. I don’t think she knows I live here. How would she? Maybe it’s time? I could throw her over my shoulder and cuff her to my bed. At least until she forgets Chris and I’m everything she can think about.
I shoot another text to Bash.
Connor: Lil is here. Lobby.
Bash: And?
Connor: I know everything.
Bash: Your stalking is getting on my nerves, asshole.
Connor: Love you, too .
Sebastian and Lil have a complicated history, but perhaps he can distract her long enough for me to have a conversation with Mary.
I wait until Sebastian walks down and follow after.
A smirk tugs at my lips as I take in her disheveled appearance in the lobby. Clearly, several drinks past tipsy. This will not be easy. At least I got her alone.
“Hey, Blue.” I walk over to her.
Her head rises in surprise as she spots me. “Connor? What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same thing.”
“I’m here with my friends.” She straightens her posture as if I’ve accused her of something. “Not that it’s any of your business.”
“Feisty when you’re drunk, aren’t you? Although I can’t say I mind. You’re rather adorable like this.”
“Shut up. I’m not adorable.” She blushes.
We’re so close now that I can feel her breath mingling with mine and see the desire darkening her eyes. It takes all my willpower not to close those last few millimeters between us.
I lean in slightly, my hand curving around the back of her neck. Our bodies are nearly touching, the air shimmering with pent-up need. I want nothing more than to kiss her senseless right here.
“No? Then what would you call this pretty blush?” I trail a finger along her cheek .
My touch elicits a sharp intake of breath, her skin blooming with heat under my fingertips. The effect I have on her is intoxicating.
I drop my voice lower, unable to resist teasing her a little more. “Did you come to see me?”
“I—We came to see Elijah.”
“Elijah, huh? What business do you have with him?”
“It’s Gemma’s business, not mine.”
“Pitty. I would have loved you to be here for me.”
“If you ever would have let me in, I might be here for you. Pathetic that I didn’t even know where the man I love lives.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, wishing I could make this all go away. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“Yes, I do. I’m in love with you. And I know you feel the same. You can deny it all you want, but I know and see the way you look at me.”
At that moment, I freeze. Every muscle, nerve, and fiber of my being is taut with the weight of her confession. Love? She said it again like she is so sure of it. But is she? Really?
I surge forward and crush my lips to hers in a searing kiss. I grip her hips, bringing our bodies together as I pour all my anguish and regret into that kiss, wishing it could say what my words cannot. Mary melts into me with a soft whimper.
“Does this mean we’re fine again?” she asks.
My throat tightens.
I want nothing more than for us to be fine. I want to tell her everything. That I am Chris. That she’s the only one who makes me feel this unraveled. That the very thought of losing her makes my chest constrict with panic. But the words stick in my throat, viscous and choking.
So instead, I kiss her again, harder this time.
I back her up against the wall, pinning her there with the weight of my body as my hands roam freely over the lush curves. She arches into me with a soft moan, and I can’t help the desperate groan that escapes me.
This is how I’ll make her understand. With every caress, every ragged breath, I’ll show her the truth I can’t put into words. That she owns every fractured piece of my shattered soul.
When we break apart, chest heaving, she asks again. “So? Are we… fine?”
“Why do you even think I’m Chris? It can’t be solely based on what you saw. There was no problem earlier.”
“Elijah told me you went with him to the masquerade party where I met Chris. That without you, he wouldn’t have met Gem.”
Fucking Elijah. I close my eyes briefly. If I get my hands on him.
So she knows I was there that night, even if she doesn’t fully understand my role in it. Because I’m not the guy who texted her. I just took his place.
And there, in the depths of her searching gaze, I find myself at a crossroads. Do I let the masquerade fall away? Do I let her see the man behind the mask?
“Yes. We are fine. We are always fine. ”
“It doesn’t feel like it. I mean, are we now boyfriend and girlfriend? Do we still keep it a secret? Do we just have fun?”
“We should talk about this when you’re sober.”
“Do you even want to be my boyfriend?”
“I told you. I’m going to be whatever you need me to be. So, yes, if that’s what you want me to be, I’ll be your boyfriend.”
Her eyes are doubtful and confused, like I’m some imposter. Some Chris guy she thinks she knows. They wander over my tattoos like she’s seeing them for the first time. I covered them so she wouldn’t be able to recognize me. I even wore contact lenses. It’s no use trying to compare me to some phantom, Blue.
I’m here, right in front of her, but it feels like she’s miles away. Just like before I got close to her.
No.
It’s worse.
“You should go home, Blue,” I say.
“No. Can I stay with you tonight?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” First, I need to visit a certain someone. Second, I can’t control myself tonight, and third, I don’t want her to regret anything because she was drunk. “Write me when you’re home.”
She doesn’t need to, as I know where she is 24/7, but getting a message from her feels good.
“I will.”
I press a kiss to her forehead and stride off to the elevator.