Chapter 42
Camila
Morning autumn sunlight warms my face. I squint my eyes, untangling myself from Xander.
“Where are you going?” he grumbles, pulling my waist back into him. I giggle as my back hits his chest, and his arm snakes around my waist. “What’s the rush?”
Xander stiffens, his arm slowly unwinding itself from me.
“What?” I ask at the sudden reaction.
“Camila…” he starts, voice low. “Please, get your cat off my back.”
Xander lets out the most girly squeal as he rips away from me, jumping off the bed and knocking Sid off in the process, where he was cuddled into Xander’s back. I laugh as Sid panic-sprints around the room, and Xander jumps onto an empty chair to get away from him.
“Sid,” I laugh. “You’re scaring him again.”
Sid jumps back up on the bed and settles in between my crossed legs. He flicks his paws at Xander.
“See! He’s trying to fight me!” he accuses.
“You know,” I start, wiping dampness from beneath my eye. “I wonder how you got him here in the first place.”
“I didn’t,” he grumbles, slowly climbing off the chair. “Ezra put him in the car for me.”
I use this as an opportunity to slide out of bed and pad over to the ensuite bathroom.
Sid prances out of the bedroom, probably going to wait for his food.
I study my delicate features in the mirror.
I look lighter today. The bags under my eyes aren’t so prominent, and there’s a ghost of a permanent smile on my face. One that I haven’t seen in a long time.
I shower and wrap myself in a towel since I forgot to bring in a change of clothes, the steam billows out after me when I emerge from the bathroom.
Xander is laid out on the bed, all muscle and tattooed skin, looking like something out of a magazine.
But the scowl on his face looking at my old phone is unmissable.
“Another text from Luke?” I ask, placing my used clothes in the small suitcase.
He nods, but I don’t bother with questions about what the text says. I know very well it’ll be the same old threat. And judging by Xander’s face, he’s currently plotting Luke’s death.
He jumps out of bed and strides over to me, placing a gentle kiss on my lips and discarding my phone onto the bed.
“I’m going for a shower,” he says, and I nod back at him.
The door clicks shut behind him, and I rummage through my case.
Realising I don’t have a clean top, I spot a wardrobe in the corner of the room.
Xander has to have some spare clothes in here.
Otherwise I’m stuck wearing the same shirt I changed into after mine and Xander’s forest sex, which I’m still reeling from.
Padding over to the wardrobe, I open it and start rummaging through the multiple white shirts hanging neatly inside. There are a few normal t-shirts folded at the bottom of the wardrobe, but one pile looks a lot higher than the other.
The shower starts, filling the room with gentle rain sounds.
Crouching, I pick up several t-shirts in one hand, revealing a small box tucked beneath them.
It’s an old shoebox; it has dents everywhere, and the orange colour on it has faded.
Checking behind me, I make sure Xander hasn’t come out of the bathroom yet.
Especially because this specific box looks like it might hold some old memories inside.
And I’m nothing if not curious about him.
So, I pull a t-shirt over my head, slide on a pair of jeans and socks, and bring the box over to the bed.
Sitting down cross-legged, I place it in front of me and lift the top.
The first thing inside it is a very old piece of green material.
It has some years to it, there’s obvious dirt on it, and it’s threadbare.
I pick it up with two fingers, careful not to disturb the barely hanging-on material.
It has a few bits of fluff on it, like the one that might’ve been made into a teddy bear once. I place it carefully on the bed.
The next item is a pile of photos, all turned upside down and held together in an elastic band.
I turn them, unravelling the band. The first picture is the same one of Jacques and Xander downstairs.
I huff out a laugh at Jacques’ bald head again.
The next picture is of him and his dad, both holding ice cream with a beach in the background.
Xander’s face is covered in chocolate ice cream, and he has a shit-eating grin similar to his dad’s, but his dad’s focus is on Xander.
Smiling at him, watching his little boy enjoying his ice cream.
My throat tightens. It reminds me of me and my mum.
I was her world, and she was mine. I never knew my dad, but I never felt like I missed anything in my life until now.
Looking at this photo of Xander and his dad.
I shake off the feeling, sliding the photo behind the rest. The next one is of Xander again, at some form of birthday party. There are a lot of people around, but one person in particular catches my eye. There’s a woman sitting in a chair, watching Xander.
The flash of the camera makes her eyes glow red, but you can almost feel the hatred for Xander coming through the photo. That must be his mother.
I scowl, heat streaming through my blood.
I will never understand how she could’ve mistreated Xander.
Growling, I throw the photo on the bed and double-check that Xander is still in the bathroom. I probably shouldn’t be snooping, but there doesn’t seem to be anything that I shouldn’t be seeing in here.
The next photo is one taken of a drawing. It looks like a landscape. You can tell a child drew it, but it’s pretty impressive. It's a green landscape. Trees, hills, with a small lake in the middle.
I wonder who drew that.
The next lot of photos are all similar. All drawings of various things. All using the same green colour, even if the picture doesn’t warrant the use of green.
I assume these are Xander’s. I can see a running theme with green here. He must’ve been a fan of the colour when he was younger.
I giggle at the thought of him fixating on something trivial.
There’s one photo of three stickmen, one with long hair and one much shorter than the other two. But the stickman with long hair is scribbled over quite aggressively. I squint my eyes to see what’s written in the corner of the drawing.
‘She hit me again today’.
My stomach drops, that tightness returning to my throat. I discard the picture to the one with his mother in it.
The second to last photo is of Xander again, cuddling a green teddy.
That wide smile is on his face still, and he’s looking right at the camera.
The last photo is similar, but he’s in bed, cuddling the teddy.
I scrunch my eyebrows in confusion. I place the set of photos next to the box and pick up the flimsy piece of fabric, the sound of the shower still streaming in through the bathroom door.
That must’ve been the teddy. He must’ve really loved the shit out of it.
But nothing could prepare me for what I see in the box next.
It’s a drawing.
A real drawing. Using what looks like charcoal.
It’s a body. It looks like mine… But I don’t know if my eyes deceive me. There’s no face, just a body wearing an awfully similar outfit to the one I wore at Diamond Lounge.
But it doesn’t stop there. There are multiple. All of that same body. That’s when I reach a drawing of a face.
Then different pages with all different parts of a face.
My face.
A close-up, with my eyes coloured in green.
Then another one. Me, chained to his bed, sleeping.
I swallow. I had no idea he had these. I didn’t even know he drew until now.
Did he draw these? He must have.
My breathing starts picking up as I place the drawings down onto the bed.
There’s a car key. One that looks an awful lot like my old car key.
A document with an attached picture of a busted-up engine. It looks like someone hit it repeatedly with a hammer. I slide the photo out of the clip.
‘Engine damaged beyond fixing. Engine replacement required. Oil leak. Engine damage caused by own fault.
Owner requests to scrap the car.
Signed by Camila Wilder.’
My stomach plummets, and my hands begin to shake as I take the next object out of the box. It’s another contract.
‘Termination of contract.
This contract is to state that Camila Wilder will no longer be employed at Diamond Lounge. All remaining payments shall be made in full, and the former employee shall be granted a lifetime salary of five thousand pounds per month.
Signed by Xander Warren.
Signed by…’
My breaths come hollow. All noises around me muffle out.
I take in all the objects spread out around me. My vision is hazy, but I can still see them clearly. There’s no mistaking what I just found.
The pictures. My car. Termination of contract.
The green.
It all makes so much fucking sense now.
My stomach churns with nausea. It feels like my entire world has just come crashing around me.
Xander was never interested in me.
He was interested in controlling me. I should’ve seen the fucking signs from a mile away. I did. But my fragile mind wanted to believe he was different.
I catch a glimpse of my eyes in the window behind the bed.
Green.
The dress he brought me.
Fucking green.
A swirl of emotions muddles in my brain.
Confusion takes hold of me.
How could I have been so blind to it all? Why did I believe for one second that someone finally might be on my team? Love me, right?
“Angel?”
Everything turns to ice.
My heart, my body, my soul.
“Do not call me that.”
“What is it?”
I stand from the bed, immediately whirling towards him.
His body still glistens from the shower; a towel is wrapped around his waist. He throws his hands up to the sides, carefully watching me.
He glances towards the bed, and his entire face morphs into what can only be described as ‘oh, shit’.
“Angel, let me—”
“No,” I growl, slowly inching my way around him to get to the door. My heart is pounding out of my chest, and I can barely feel my body.
“You don’t get to explain anything.” I point to the bed. “That tells me everything.”
“Angel, you don’t understand—”
“Oh, I understand very fucking well, Xander. This was never about us. This was only ever about you.” I reach the door and pause. Xander takes a step towards me, but I pull on the handle in warning. “You’re the one who fucked up my car.”
He swallows, hands still in the air as if he’s surrendering. “Yes.”
“You were going to make me sign the termination contract.”
“Yes.”
“You only noticed me because I was wearing green?” My voice raises an octave, growling words scratching at my throat.
“Fuck, no, that’s not—” His entire body slackens, his hands dropping to his sides. He looks like a soldier who just got shot down. But a flash of realisation passes over his face. He drops to his knees, defeated.
I pull on the handle, and his face snaps up towards me.
“Do not follow me out of here,” I warn.
He places a fist to the floor, readying to push himself off, veins in his arm popping.
“You never cared about me. You’re just an obsessive stalker, Xander. You’re sick,” I yell.
In a flash, he’s on me, pressing me into the door with arms either side of me. But it’s different from how possessive he’s been over me recently. This is gentle.
“You don’t get it, do you? This isn’t me trying to control you.
You’re not just a passing thought. You’re not just an obsession.
This is deeper than obsession. This isn’t love, because love is not enough of a word to describe how I feel about you,” he starts, chest heaving, voice rough.
“Every time I close my eyes, you’re the only face I see.
You plague every waking minute of my life.
When you’re not near me, I feel like I’m dying. ”
He swallows, hopeless eyes still glued to mine. My own eyes start to sting. Out of sadness? Anger? I don’t know.
“It’s you that I think about when my head starts spinning.
It’s you that I think about when I can’t sleep.
When you’re near me, my head is silent. You are the one thing I can’t lose.
" He blows out a calming breath. "There's no alternate universe where you and I don’t exist. You’re embedded so deep in my soul that even when we're both dead, I will still find my way back to you. You can push me away as much as you want, but I will always be your shadow. You’ve awakened something in me that’s been cold and dead for a long time, Angel.
And I can’t let you go. I will never let you go.
I fucking love you, Camila. Even if you hate me. "
The world stops spinning, but my own head feels detached from my body.
A tear slips out of those baby blue eyes I’ve been finding myself lost in over the last few weeks.
Scrunching my lips, I punch his chest away from me, and he stumbles backwards.
I use this opportunity to open the door and wedge myself between the frame and the door.
“Jacques was right,” I say, and Xander’s face morphs into anger. “You hurt me, Xander.” These are the final words I say before I stumble out of the doorway, straight towards the small hallway table, grabbing Xander’s keys from the bowl.
His footsteps follow behind me. I’m out of the front door within seconds, barrelling towards his car.
I press the key fob, unlocking it and near enough launching myself into the leather seat. I lock the door behind me, my erratic breaths fogging up the window, only allowing me to see Xander’s unclear frame fast approaching the car.
“Fuck,” I squeal, shakily shoving the key into the ignition.
A bang echoes throughout the car, Xander’s hands hitting the window.
“Angel, open the fucking door.”
“Fuck you, Xander!” I call back. The windscreen is still fogged up, but I hit my foot on the accelerator and blast the heating on. The car lurches forward, and I swing the wheel to the left. I straighten the car speeding down the pathway out of the lodge.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, what now?” I shout to myself. “I’m in the middle of fucking nowhere.”
I left my phone in the cabin. I don’t even have my shoes on.
Cursing, I tap my fingers on the car screen, praying this car has a function to connect to your phone even if not in range. My feet shake on the pedals. I turn the heating up, trying to rid the windscreen of fog.
The loading icon fills the screen, and by some fucking miracle, Xander’s contacts show.
I slide my finger down towards ‘J’ and press on Jacques’ name.
The ringing sounds fill the car, and by the second ring, I’m already losing hope.
“I sure hope you’re having a great fucking getaway, asshole.” Jacques’ cockney accent booms through the speakers.
“Jacques?” I whimper.
“Camila? What the fuck? Where’s Xander? Are you both okay?”
“Yes. No. Yes. Fuck, no.”
“What the fuck is happening?”
“I don't know where I'm going, Jacques. I need to get away from him,” I choke out, finally letting the tears fall free.
“Shit,” he whispers down the phone, like he already knew this was coming.