Chapter 24
Camila
Part of me wanted to stay and see how the situation unravels. The other needed to get out. Too many bad memories were resurfacing watching those officers raid DL. Luckily, none of them wanted to question me.
Xander is intense. Intense in a way I’ve never felt before. Waking up and being chained to the bed was an unorthodox feeling.
It made heat burn in my core. But I couldn’t show it to Xander. It’s that broken piece of me that will never fully heal that enjoyed it. And maybe it’s because whenever Xander is near me, I feel safe. Protected. A feeling I’ve never felt with anyone.
Xander isn’t Luke. He’s powerful. And he’s going after something that he clearly already claimed as his.
Me.
And I can’t ignore the undeniable pull towards him. Every thought of Luke I have just disappears when he’s around. Which is scary as much as it is… freeing.
Phone service going down last night was a blessing in disguise. After the final—and as usual, threatening—text he sent me, I was free of him for the rest of the night. It meant I could focus on getting to know Xander—or what little he told me of himself.
I still don’t know if I can put my full trust in him. He’s still a stranger and my boss. He might turn out to be a complete psychopath.
What if next time I’m chained up in the boot of his McLaren?
Shaking my head out of those thoughts, I pull out of the car park, passing the police cars parked outside the club, blocking the exits. Xander’s scent still clings to the interior. No matter where I go, I’m constantly reminded of him.
I round the corner and see the officers filing out, followed by a smug-looking one with the shaved head and a very pissed-off Xander, who’s throwing daggers into the back of his head.
Jacques follows behind them, hands in his trouser pockets and his blazer tucked behind his arms. Perfect image of another powerful man.
Trust me to escape one drug dealer and get involved with another.
They must not have found anything in their search, or they would be led out in handcuffs. I’ve seen that sight one too many times. But none of those times saved me from Luke returning to make my life hell.
Xander’s eyes catch the sight of my car, and he glances over, a soft smile gracing his face as I pass them. I check my rearview mirror to see he’s stopped in the middle of the granite stairs, watching as I fade out of view.
Always watching.
I drag myself up the block stairs to the sixth floor of my flat. Just my luck, the lift is broken, and it’ll probably take them weeks to fix it.
Pushing through the door that separates the stairs from the main hallway, I turn left to my apartment. There’s a white, medium-sized box sitting on the floor.
Right in front of my door.
My heart rate accelerates as I stop in my tracks.
Searching around the hall, I don’t find anyone lurking. I peek through the small window to the staircase—also empty.
I whip my head back to the box as my palms sweat inside Xander’s jumper sleeves.
There’s no way Luke was here. He wouldn’t waste his time with ‘gifts’; he’d be breaking in—and upon realising I wasn’t home, he’d be looking for me and blowing up my phone with phone calls.
“Shit,” I mutter as a faint sensation washes over me, the room tilting on its axis.
Swallowing past the awful dryness in my throat, I take careful steps towards the box, my knees trembling, threatening to throw me off balance.
He’s near. Too close.
I should’ve left when I had the chance.
I don’t even notice I’ve reached my door until my foot kicks the box. It’s wrapped in a silky, deep green ribbon.
I blink my eyes a few times to wash away the dizziness and bring my eyes back into focus. Blowing out a shaky breath, I kneel towards the box.
There’s nothing on it, just the silk ribbon.
With shaky hands, I pick it up. It doesn’t feel light, but it’s not heavy either. I will myself to give it a shake. It makes a shuffling noise.
Bang.
I drop the box and jump away from it, colliding with the wall behind me.
“You okay, Camila?” My neighbour’s soft voice fills the hallway.
Holy shit. Thank fuck.
I exhale. “Yeah, Jake. Thank you,” I reply without looking at him.
“Man, did you hear the storm last night?” he asks, but I can barely hear him.
“Yeah. I did.”
“Danielle was ripping my ear off about being home for once. As if I was going out in that,” he rambles on. Clicking his lighter on, smoke fills my nose as he walks past me down the hall. “Anyway, I better head back in before she rips my dick off,” he laughs goofily.
“Yeah,” I chuckle awkwardly.
His footsteps fade out down the hall as I peel my eyes open and stare at the cardboard.
I unlock my door, and with one last glance at the box, I kick it to the side, stepping into my flat and closing the door behind me.
I pull out my phone to see there are no new text messages or calls.
My heart picks up speed again, and my eyes squeeze.
Flopping back into the door, I slide down it, that dizzy feeling returning to my head.
A lump forms in my throat as I desperately try to hold back tears.
I curse under my breath, folding my hands beneath my bent legs to steady the shaking.
He might be here. I need to get out, but I cannot will myself to get off the floor. I’m glued to the back of the door as if it will keep me safe. Like if I don’t move, then no one can see me.
Sid saunters up to me, weaving through my legs. I sniffle as I bring my hand out to stroke his fur.
“I’m sorry, Siddy. I got stuck in the storm,” I apologise, like he’ll be able to understand me.
He meows, cosying up underneath my arched legs, tail wagging slowly.
I continue smoothing his silky fur as he purrs beneath me.
I don’t know how long I stay on the floor shaking, but my front room is cast in a dim blue hue. The evening is here. I have to be at Diamond Lounge in a few hours.
I haven’t slept.
I haven’t eaten.
I’m tired.
Ding.
My body jolts and my heart kickstarts at the sudden sound of my phone's notification in my pocket. Sid scurries into my bedroom.
I squeeze my eyes shut, not wanting to see who it is. Already knowing who it is.
Another ding.
I brace myself, pulling my hands out. Blood rushes back into them after being squeezed between my legs for so long.
“Okay. You can do this. You’ve been doing it this long,” I pep talk myself.
The thought of him knowing where I am and coming after me now is too much to bear. What if he really was here… and I just froze?
But I’m still here. He wouldn’t have wasted any time getting to me. The freak probably would’ve installed cameras in my flat and known the second I got back home.
I shake my hands, my senses finally returning to me. I catch a hint of a masculine scent with the movement, and all of a sudden, my heart slows.
I take in the scent, breathing it in like it’s a lifeline. Like he’s right here next to me.
I pull my phone out.
Dickhead: Did you get my gifts angel?
Dickhead: Are you okay? I’m sorry about earlier. I don’t wanna drag you into this.
“Oh my fucking god,” I whimper, finally letting my tears fall.
Relief like I’ve never felt washes over me as tears stream down my face. I stare at my phone as if it just gave me the answer to life, laughing through my tears.
Wiping my face on his hoodie sleeves, I push myself off the floor and open the door. I silently pray that the box is still there.
And it is.
All white, emerald ribbon, and a dent from my shoe.
Picking it up, I cradle it in my arms and carry it to my sofa, flicking the main light on in the process.
Sid emerges from the bedroom, climbing up onto the kitchen island, watching me with his golden eyes.
Undoing the ribbon first, I place it on the table, then lift the lid off it. A bit of green peeks through luxury-looking white tissue paper, and a smaller box—which looks big enough for shoes—sits beside it.
My hands tremble as I pull out the soft tissue paper and carefully peel off the small, circular sticker, revealing shiny, silk material.
I hold it up in front of me. It’s a short, shimmering, emerald green dress with spaghetti straps.
It’s corseted at the waist, and it’s probably the most gorgeous dress I’ve ever seen.
Xander bought this?
I hang the dress over the back of the sofa and open the smaller box. It’s a pair of shiny, black heels with red bottoms.
“Holy fucking—” I mutter, taking in the expensive dress and heels.
Ding.
Dickhead: Angel?
I’ve unintentionally kept him hanging for long enough, so I don’t waste time texting him back.
Me: It’s gorgeous
Dickhead: Try it on
Me: Someone’s eager
Dickhead: To see you? Always
I’m not in the mood to flirt. My head hurts, and my body is still trembling from my anxiety attack earlier, but with Xander it feels easy.
I take the garments to my room, closing the blinds and flicking the lights on.
I reluctantly take off Xander’s clothes and neatly fold them on my bed, slipping the dress on, careful not to rip it or catch it on something.
It fits like a glove. It complements perfectly with my eyes, and it’s flattering for my figure.
How did he know what size I am?
I grab the shoes and check the size.
Four.
My exact foot size.
My brows draw in with the confusion of how he could possibly know what size clothing I wear, but the relief of knowing Luke still hasn’t found me makes it easy to look past.
I slip the shoes on and examine myself in the mirror.
I love it. But it’s so expensive. I look out of place in this stuff.
I didn’t grow up rich. Luxury is not something I know. My DL money lets me live comfortably, and every single tip goes towards my dance studio.
I pose and snap a picture of myself in the mirror. The lighting isn’t great, and my face looks tired. I stare at the photo and contemplate sending it to Xander.
Deciding that I want to tease him a little, I send it.
Me: Thank you… but what is it for?
The chat bubble pops up, then disappears. It does that a few times before his message comes through.
Dickhead: Accompany me to an event
Me: Do I get a choice?
I giggle to myself as I send the message.
The chat bubble appears and disappears again.
Dickhead: Not really
Me: I thought as much. The answer is no.
Dickhead: I’ll see you in three days sweetheart