Chapter 11

I wake up in my own bed alone and blink around in disorientated confusion. I fell asleep on the couch, yet I wake here in a bed that is obvious he has never ventured into. It's completely unbelievable to me that he would take the time and care to put me in bed like this and I sit up to gather my wits and shake my brain awake. It's gotten to the stage with him that I never know which way is up. He's a contradiction to himself in every way, the hints of decent that sometimes linger in him and sometimes peek through, and then he turns into a complete demon of epic proportions. I can't read him or get my head around him. Psycho to gentle lover in a heartbeat, but he's still a bossy control freak with severe issues. Alexi is a mind fuck and I know I just made a huge mistake in letting him have the last ounces of me. Control is his thing, possession, and I just gave him the one part that he didn't already own willingly. I lost my hand; all my cards are now face up on the table and I left myself with no bargaining tools. I'm such an idiot. I don't get what changed his mind on why sex is suddenly no longer off limits, but I know him, he always has an angle and if he felt sex meant it helped him manipulate and control me then he would use it. Maybe he thinks I'll fall for him, become more accommodating and obedient if he starts fucking me. I have no intention of letting him get inside my head and unbeknown to him, sex does nothing for me emotionally, even if he is good at it. I get up and head for the shower, dazed, messy and just fragile from last night. I need to get a grip and get some breathing space from him, he's like an all-consuming black hole when he's near me and I cannot see the stars beyond. He just draws me in and blanks everything else out in a bad way. I second guess myself and all my tricks and games fall hard on deaf ears. He's immune to all of them, and last night only proved that it's not an effect that works both ways. He got exactly what he wanted from me and I put up no resistance at all. Pathetic Camilla, you're losing your edge over a fucking man. What the hell is wrong with you? * * * I wander into the bar fresh, made up, in a tight black shift dress, heels and with sleek hair. I took a couple of hours to make myself ready to face the world and I feel better. The bar is closed right now, but the staff are in cleaning up the remains of last night all around us. I can hear hoovers going on in the boudoirs from the cleaners and Alexi is sat at the far end of the bar with a plate of food as he reads papers. He looks crisp and ready to face his day in a fresh pale blue shirt over light trousers for once and I wonder if he even slept at all. It's not even ten a.m. and he was downstairs long before me. ''Good morning.'' I smile brightly; not willing to act like last night happened at all and I nod at the girl behind the bar to go rustle me up the same as he has. Food is something we actually do here although there isn't much call for it when a party is in full swing and it's usually more of a staff request than a customer. We have some capable cooks on our serving staff, and she scuttles off to the concealed kitchen within the bar's inner arch to make me grilled cheese and a side salad. He picks up his coffee, eyes never leaving the paper he is holding up and just takes a long slow sip. ''Morning London. You're down here early.'' He glances at me, his eyes running up and down my outfit, and then goes back to what he's doing. He's acting exactly like normal Carrero and not like a guy who pounded me into his couch for an hour. It's like it never happened at all and I hate the sense of disappointment it gives me. Fucking amateur. I need to stop driving myself inside out and utterly insane over this indifferent arsehole and find myself a new focus and plaything. I need a defenceless victim to flex my seduction muscles on and get this out of my system. I need a challenge and some fun of my own where the mind game master is my crown and not his. He screws with my whole calm and I hate not being the one who is being fawned over and adored effortlessly by sex starved men aiming to get another go between my legs. That's all this is. ''I think I might head into the city and buy a new dress or two today, before we open later.'' I wriggle in the awkward bar stool, trying to get comfy, but sitting on these hard surfaces reminds me that I am a little tender down there this morning. Being bruised from a premature entry leaves its mark and I bet the bastard would be satisfied to know he's left me in discomfort. ''Good idea. Get out of here for a while, give me some space for some clients I have coming.'' He is even-toned, normal Alexi and I just gawp at his profile. Hating how much it's annoying me that he's being so fucking ignorant. It was good sex, even with all that happened in between. He could at least acknowledge that we work together. There's chemistry. ''Coming here? Don't you normally take your serious day to day work to your office in the city?'' I know he has one; he has a whole building apparently and spends the time he's not here wherever that is. I will let this go and act like I don't give a shit either. Maybe pretend the sex was mediocre. He clearly must have thought so. ''This one is a more casual arrangement; People I don't want to be seen with publicly. Make yourself scarce. Don't come back till after three.'' Alexi slides his hand into his pocket and pulls out his wallet, sliding out his black plastic and pushing it across the granite surface toward me. I just blink at the credit card and then at him with a questioning expression. He still carries on with his papers and doesn't look my way. ''Go pick a new wardrobe. I want you dressing a little sexier in the evenings and get a few formal dresses for events I have coming up that I'd like you to attend with me. I need a date that knows how to mingle socially and hold up intelligent conversations.'' Commanding and emotionless, telling me what to do even if it is with his money. ''Another Demagio type arrangement?'' I snap, even though I am trying not to let him get to me but his arrogant attitude and whole non-reaction to me coming down has me feeling like I want to kick him in the shins with pointed shoes. ''No. I told you, that won't ever happen again. The only man who gets to touch you is me.'' He drops his papers and pulls his food towards him, sliding his mug aside as I watch him silently. Simmering inside with weird hateful vibes that I cannot quite pinpoint. He just makes me so angry. ''So, we're still on that? Sex didn't cure you of that then.'' I roll my eyes and glare at him, bringing it up myself because, to be honest, it's pissing me off that he's acting like we didn't have sex, and damn good sex half the fucking night. It WAS good sex and that's rare. ''I didn't think it would, I just wanted to fuck you and show you who was boss. All last night did was secure the fact that I own you; you are disappointingly easy to manipulate for someone I had high hopes for. Your reputation is more than your skill, London, and I was expecting fireworks and bedroom acrobatics, not tears and having to play nice.'' And there's that sadistic smug smirk as he focuses on his food. Every reason in his words that remind me why I despise this prick so much. I know that is not a joke. He's not being arrogant or funny, he's being dickhead Carrero. ''This is getting old. You need therapy. I don't find anything attractive in this childish ownership bullshit you have going on and maybe you should find a new hobby or a fucking shrink.'' I get up angrily, bubbling inside with hot lava and rage, not caring if I have food coming. He just crushed me by implying sex was dull and treating me like shit. I am not staying for this bull crap, tears burning in the back of my eyes, but he catches my wrist and yanks me back to him, so I plonk back down on the stool. He's harsh and aggressive and sometimes makes me want to gauge his eyes out. ''You're my new hobby. Get used to the attention, last night wasn't a one-off and next time you will learn your place. You present a challenge, a little wildcat I want to tame and discipline and show how to behave in a way which befits something belonging to me.'' This time it's a sardonic smile, a confident tone that wreaks seriousness and I glare hatefully because I know he means every stupid word coming out of that idiotic mouth of his. This just went to a whole new level of war. ''Fuck off! Honest to God I cannot stand you and last night will never happen again. You were a mistake and a lame one at that, I have had better sex with my little finger.'' I spit it at him, and he just grins at me like it's the funniest thing he's heard all day and rattles my temper some more. ''Getting under your skin, London? You're losing your cool way more than you used to. You're not that great an actress and I know for a fact if I dragged you upstairs right now, you would be as willing as you were last night. I can almost see your panties dropping at the thought.'' Sarcasm is thick, and he drops my wrists and goes back to his plate, casually picking up his sandwich and taking a bite nonchalantly. He just looks cocky and self-assured that he's 'da man' and the urge to knock his latte over his nice trousers is overwhelming. I toss his credit card back at him with rage in my veins and I aim it for his face, but it misses and whizzes past his shoulder instead. Not that he seems to care or even acknowledge it, he's too busy acting like I am an annoying mosquito that he is great at ignoring. ''I don't need you adding more debt to my tab and drawing out this agony for longer. I'll pay for my own clothes and you should know … I'm going apartment hunting, so I'll be back when I am back.'' I toss my hair over my shoulder bitchily and slide off my chair defiantly, walking off towards the inner door, so I can go retrieve my bag from upstairs, moving swiftly so I am out of reach quickly, but he stays put. ''We'll see. Looking for an apartment is one thing. Being allowed to move out is another.'' He calls after me with that shitty tone of arrogant prick that thinks he can rule everything about me, and I don't know how one man can make a couple of deadpan sentences sound like the most rage inducing thing in the world—but he is supreme at it. He slides his half-eaten food further along the bar towards me, out of his way, done with it and goes back to looking at his goddamn paperwork. ''I swear to fucking God!!!'' I spin on him angrily, losing all remnants of cool and yelling it at him. ''You realise you are an arsehole, like seriously? You need to get a bloody grip. NEWSFLASH ALEXI! You cannot control someone who doesn't want to be owned! How are you going to stop me? Tie me up and lock me in this club? Take away my privileges of getting to go outside and chain me to the fucking floor? Lock me in a cupboard and keep me there indefinitely? I would like to see you fucking try, you complete prick!'' I am practically stamping my foot at him, and he's just infuriatingly cool, watching me with that empty expression and those lifeless, colourless eyes. Unfazed, uncaring and completely fucking devoid of humanity. ''Push me and see.'' It's not even raised in volume or tone. Infuriatingly unaffected while I'm bubbling like molten metal over here. ''You have got to stop with the threats and the constant trying to put the fear of God into me. I don't care!!! Do your worst—fuck me or beat me, defile me and crush me down like a worthless piece of shit that you found on your shoe. You wouldn't be doing anything I haven't already lived through, so if you thought you had an upper hand, then forget it. I can survive worse than you can throw at me so bring it on. I am so done with your bullshit Carrero, you are not the worst shit I have endured and if you are trying to break me then good luck … I died a long time ago and this is the fucking result.'' I exhale after my mini rant and try to compose myself. So fuelled with anger and breathing hard as my lungs strain against my outburst, my face flushed with effort and body burning with exertion. I really despise that he just draws this out of me effortlessly and I feel like he's trying to make me insane, slowly but surely. A man who can suffocate you without laying a finger on you, another accomplishment he would be proud of no doubt. ''PMS? Or just woke up in the wrong bed and a massive case of 'why didn't he want to cuddle with me after I let him fuck me'?'' He smirks at me, mocking me with a convincing British accent and I just flip with that one little arrogant smug as fuck face and dickhead laugh. I pick up his plate of food which is nearer me than him and throw it over him, rather well aimed and surprisingly direct to the target, before tossing the porcelain over his head like a Frisbee for effect and smashing it across the floor. ''If I'm going to be punished then maybe I'll start making it worthwhile!'' I snap at him and turn to walk away, heart pounding as he sits completely still and silent as salad rolls down his expensive clothes. I have no actual fucks to give, he's infuriating on every level and I want him to snap and strangle me to death, put me out of my misery once and for all. The bar girl comes back with the food I ordered and halts in open-mouthed shock as she catches sight of Carrero wearing his breakfast and does a double take from him to me and then back again sheepishly, all colour draining from her face. She has the sense to feel instant fear on my behalf. ''Better give it to him; I think he might still be hungry.'' I snap at her too as I pass and try not to break into a run before he comes after me. I know it's inevitable, but I am not waiting around for that. If I get my arse out of this club and into the street, he's less likely to physically hurt me. I hear the scrape of bar stool on wooden floor and my heart literally jumps into my mouth, instant regret hitting hard, and I know I better run like the wind. Carrero obviously took a moment to digest what I just did and now he's raging. Reaction overtakes thought and impulsively I freak the fuck out. I don't look back, just break into a sprint in high shoes, aiming for the corridor to the back entrance and take off at speed. Apt at high heel running when I must. I have never been so petrified in my life, and even in four-inch heels I get to the door in record time and slide past his two goons who are napping on the job. I keep my access card in my bra and with a swipe I'm out in the morning sun, in New York's grey air, hightailing it down the side alley and up towards the front of the building to try and find a way out or a cab. I don't care if I have no bag or coat. I can charge most shit to my account or go find a bank in the city to withdraw cash and keep out of the way all day until he simmers. I need to get the hell away from him while he cools down, and I am not coming back until he does, it's a bit like lighting a fuse and realising you better move away from the blast zone until it settles. Mr Dynamite is burning away and getting ready to go 'Kaboom'. I leg it around the front of the building onto the open pavement and run straight into the smug bastard, thumping into that hard wall of intimidation and muscle standing waiting on me. I didn't see him at all. I literally ran straight into his goddamn chest and arms and get lifted right off my feet in an angry swoop that gives me no chance of changing direction. Breathless, panting and sweating from exertion, and he just strolled out the front bloody door catching me blindly. ''Going somewhere London? We have more than one exit you know.'' He sounds amused rather than angry, but I know that's not what that is. He's in devil mode and his amusement masks simmering rage. I try to wriggle and fight him off as he carries me back inside the gloomy club, feet dangling pathetically and no fight in me as I try to recover from my sprint. He barks at everyone who stops to gawp. ''Everyone out!'' He yells it into the silence and I go limp, fear washing through me as I realise this isn't going to end well at all. Emptying the room is not a signal for a cosy little chat and a heart-to-heart. I can't escape, he's too powerful, and he has me caught up in a hold that's making it hard to breathe, holding me tight enough to crack ribs as I wither with cold panic in his crushing grip. There's a scattering of feet as people exit from any door they can, knowing better than to disobey, and the room is cleared barren in a nanosecond. They all know who to fear and all he needs to do is click his fingers and everyone scatters to the wind. No one is going to stick around and help me. I wouldn't stick around to help either if it was me. There are no windows in this club, so apart from the light from the small high portholes he had installed and the electric mood lighting, we are in the gloomy darkness of a deserted bar and as it's a club, every wall is soundproofed to maximum effect. No one will hear my screams. Alexi walks me forward, focused on where we are going as I start to struggle again, my legs dangling above the floor by two feet and held taught against him, my arms tight to my sides and crushed to his chest. He has me higher than his head and is making this seem like I am weightless. I could kick and damage him with my heels, but I think that would just add a level of stupid to what I have done already. ''I'm sorry. I'll behave, just put me down. Alexi, please …'' I start to tremble, fear coursing through my veins, but my tears mean nothing to him. He has no soul, and he might not hit women, but he finds other means to punish us, and I don't want to experience anything he can throw my way. I recoil into docile weight he is dragging along effortlessly; old habits die hard when I know that fighting is futile. I just defied him in front of his own people and now he's pissed, cold and closed off and that's when he is at his worst. I need to just revert to submissive and hope he gets over it quickly. He pulls out his master card and swipes one of the boudoir doors pushing it open harshly and drops me on my feet uncaringly, so I go over on one ankle and yelp in pain as he gets us inside. He doesn't stop to right me or even care that I cried in pain. The lights blink on automatically, with being motion sensors and I pale as the room before me becomes illuminated and realise exactly what he intends to do to me. Using information from last night to punish me in the worst kind of way. It belongs to another mafia boss, Santagato, and his taste is much like Alexi's, in that this room is full of BDSM playthings and a huge cross in the middle with straps to anchor his victim to. Alexi knows my fear of being restrained and being taken from behind is enough to make me an emotional wreck. He is all about the psychological trauma and I turn to run but get nowhere fast as he catches my upper arm and hauls me with him, his vice-like grip inescapable. I start to sob impulsively as he drags me in and kicks the door closed behind us, pulling me towards the wooden torture device in the middle, and I strain against him with all my might, trying hard to get loose from his barbaric grip; digging my heels into the floor with as much strength as I can muster. Alexi just yanks me with him like I weigh nothing more than a bag of sugar. Inside my organs are a mass of shaking Jelly and my blood has turned to ice water in my veins, I literally feel the blood drain coldly from every part of me, and I am left in desolate fear. ''Please, Alexi, I'm begging you.'' I can't help it; all my selfcomposure falling to ruin as he gets me closer and I fall apart mentally. Sobbing and clinging to his hand as I try to pry his fingers from me, praying for any hope that he has an ounce of human decency. Don't tie me up, don't bind me and gag me and hurt me. I'll die inside, more so than I am already. NOT AGAIN PLEASE, NOT AGAIN … Alexi seems blank, robotic and unreachable and just hoists me up as I try to curl up in a ball, dropping my weight to the floor to deter him, but it is pointless. He just sweeps me up and forces me, pushing me against it with his body and knee and bracing me upright then yanking one of my hands up in a bid to strap me to the shackles. He hauls my body taught with the way I am stretched up, even though I try to fight it and pull it off, but he just flicks me away effortlessly. Sheer brute strength and a lack of soul make him my complete controller. I have nothing in me. ''Tears and begging don't work on me. I know all your little wiles, London. As you keep telling me—I don't have the heart to give a shit.'' He's so cold and I just give in, inevitable fate, no way to fight his strength, and I am all alone surrounded by people paid to look the other way. I know futile when I see it, and instead, I try to put what's left of my fight and energy into selfprotection mentally, rather than physically. There was a reason I used to revert to compliant silence; it's the only way to mentally disconnect from the horror being done to you, and the only way to salvage any sort of sanity. It's how I have lived through all I have and come out with some ounce of a functioning human. Close down, recoil inside and protect what I have left of my sanity. I learned this when I endured so much. I try to go into that place deep inside my head as he continues to buckle me to this contraption and try like crazy to shut it all off, block it all out and numb myself away from what my body is going to endure. I can get through this. I have done so many times before when terrible awful things were done to my body. I close my eyes and bite on my lip until I taste blood, turning silent in my own mental hell as tears pour down my face. I flinch as every leather cuff he wraps around my lifeless limbs and waist is pulled tight and bites into me. Until I am fully held to the wooden cross and just hang my head in complete defeat, unable to look his way or focus on anything in this room anymore, awaiting my fate. I cannot bear to look into the face of my tormentor. It would just blur into the many faces of many dark memories and all would come pouring out together. Whatever he intends to do to me cannot damage an already destroyed soul. I just have to live through the pain and focus on anything else. Go to my silent place in my head where no one can hurt me; where they can't ever find me. There's quiet while I await the start of what he intends to do; tense, silent crying and waiting. The agony of knowing that I'm about to go through hell once more as I disconnect my body from all that's inside. I do what I used to. I close my eyes and hum that song in my head that takes me away from here, limp and accepting that I'm going to live through it like I always do. If I can just shut it all out until he's done. I wait, and I wait, ready to feel the first strokes of a lash or any form of touch, silencing my manic singsong from under my breath when nothing happens. Flickering my eyes open warily and staring at the floor where I can still see his feet. He hasn't moved, and I don't look up, not sure if this is part of the game. Nothing but silence and stillness surrounds me, and the lack of movement makes the lights shut off spookily. I jump and reignite the dim glow with my own sharp reaction which coaxes me to look up and blink my eyes through blurred and pouring makeup to see he's just standing looking at me. A strange expression on his face and a furrowed brow as though he isn't sure what to do now. Alexi looks like he has lost all traces of the anger and sadistic urge to torture me. He just looks normal and eerily still. My nose is running, and I swallow hard as tears continue to pour silently down my face, my heart breaking in two. I can see the hesitation in his stance, if not his face and for a moment there's hope that maybe he won't do more. Courage coming back to me. ''I'll stop fighting you. Please don't hurt me.'' I beg him, I plead, my accent slipping so my more common dialect slurs through almost inaudibly. The hints of my trashy start to life in Hackney. I can barely get the words out, they're stuck in my throat, so breathless and fear fuelled. I know I am a mere shadow of the woman he's used to seeing in this state, and all my defences have shattered beyond recognition. He broke me so effortlessly, after all the years that I endured so much more, and he does it without even trying—twice now, and I know when I am defeated. This is my idea of the worst kind of hell. Humiliated and raw, open for him to see how vulnerable I can be. The depths of fear and trauma I feel right now are ripping me inside out and I'm just stiff and poised, afraid of what I'm about to endure. If it was any other man, then I don't think I would have fallen apart this way. It's him and the knowledge that nothing I do will sway him from punishing me in heinous ways is a powerful weapon against me. Yet he still just stands looking at me silently, until something in him makes him snap out of it, it's like he was in a weird trance. He looks away from me to the wall on his left and swallows hard. Like he's suddenly doubting whether he should or shouldn't and I see hesitation all over again. In the great man of complete composure and cruelty—he flounders. He drops his gaze to the floor and walks towards me; my body trying to recoil as I inhale sharply and start to panic, tugging on my restraints to get away from him, my breath becoming raspy and on the verge of an all-out blackout. I maybe imagined it, and this is what he was waiting for. Me to look, to see what he's going to do. He's sadistic enough to wait for that, to lull me into a false sense of hope first. I don't want him to touch me, I can't take him hurting me this way and I won't survive. It somehow seems so much worse that it's him that is about to inflict this cruelty on me, and it's unbearable. He reaches up and unclips my wrist with a tug that renders me instantly mute with the shock. My arm falls down in front of me with the sudden weight of it, his eyes on task and avoiding mine as they focus fully on his face through a sodden mess. I pull my hand against my chest and grip the neckline of my dress, afraid to believe he is letting me loose in case this is a ploy to mess with my head some more and just watch and wait with bated breath. Untrusting and poised to use my free hand against him if it's a gameplay. I have known so many forms of mental torture and this could be one of them. ''Consider this a warning.'' He doesn't sound as self-assured as he normally does, and he can't look me in the eye either. Avoiding my face altogether, even when he gets close enough to unbuckle my waist from the large belt around it. I don't know what the hell is going on, but I hold my breath in the hope that he's changed his mind and he's letting me go. Afraid to take this at face value and keep holding still, willing for my heart to stop pounding through my chest. Alexi starts setting my ankles free before my other wrist and frees me faster than he strung me up. There's nothing in his manner that suggests anything amiss, but I can feel it all around him. The weird vibe and the complete lack of hostility as though it's evaporated. I slump down when I am finally free and end up in a heap on the floor, my body unable to hold my weight with the way I've completely lost the use of my limbs and turned into a shaking mess. Alexi doesn't attempt to catch me either, not that I expected he would. Letting out a sob as I curl up into a defensive childish ball and turn my eyes to the ground in complete humility. Ashamed of myself and my lack of strength when faced with a simple punishment that other women would take in their stride. I'm pathetic and fragile when it comes to this one thing and once again I showed him how effective it is. His feet turn at my eye level, and he starts to walk away after a moment, much to my relief. He leaves me here crying and shaking, unable to get up but it's what I would rather have than be back on that cross. He gets a few steps and then stops. My heart stops too. I stop crying and hold still, afraid he maybe hasn't finished with me yet, and recoil against the wooden stand when he walks back towards me, cowering under the shadow he casts and lift my hand defensively to my face. A pose of old, a pose of my childhood, no matter how hard you try to kill instinctual reactions, they stay with you for a lifetime and come out to just humiliate you further. I'm shielding myself for an inevitable beating, against all sense telling me that Alexi doesn't hit women. Alexi leans down and scoops me up, shocking me, and yet I can't physically react to him doing it. I just go limp and numb, trying to keep my body curled up tight as he bounces me up into his arms for a more secure hold, cradling me against him. I don't know what to think and am too scared to try. He could just be moving me somewhere else to start again. I close up tight, and refuse to look up at him, keeping my chin tucked against my chest. He carries me across the room to the door. I don't trust his intentions at all and I won't let my guard down, even if this seems like he's found an ounce of decency. He says nothing, doesn't look at me, just walks us out of the room and into the bar which is still desolate and then heads to the hall and the lift with me. I stay stiff, finding enough courage to lift my head and fix my eyes on his profile, in case it gives a hint of my fate to come, coiled like a snake waiting to strike. Except I am just waiting for an opening to jump down and run. I lift my arm to dry my face, but the tears are still falling, and when he puts me on my feet outside the lift door he lets me go, holding my arm for a moment until he sees I'm stable enough to stand and steps away as though sensing I need space and him not to touch me anymore. It's the weirdest scenario ever, considering he's the one who just traumatised me this way. ''It's not your first time being shackled is it?'' He asks me as the doors slide open and I can see my safety retreat in sight as long as he stays out here. I turn slightly to look at him and see something completely new which knocks me off a little. Alexi looks pensive and thoughtful, yet there's a look in his eye I cannot place at all. I should tell him to go fuck himself, but the fear is inside of me that he will turn and drag my arse straight back to that room if I deny him anything he wants right now. I hesitate, swallowing hard and shake my head at him, trying hard to compose myself while shaking like a leaf in a dazed state of surreal. I feel like I'm in a dream and emotionally exhausted. ''No,'' I admit emptily. I'm shell-shocked and metaphorically naked right now. I have no energy to lie when it's obvious to him that my fear was not for the unknown. I'm giving him more ammunition, but I am beyond caring. I feel stripped and broken and just need the solitude of my room. If obediently answering him means he lets me go, then it's what I will do to get away from him. ''It wasn't consensual was it, or enjoyable?'' Darkness falls over his face and I shake my head, seeing a brimming and brewing storm moving into the pale colour and darkening them too. I don't know why that makes him mad, seeing as he had no intention of what he just did being fun or enjoyable. It was a punishment and non-consensual, but somehow, he always disregards his actions when he makes statements like this. One rule for him and one rule for the rest of mankind. He really does have a superiority complex. ''What were you?'' He asks such a simple question, yet the answer is complex. Alexi has had hints that I was a damaged girl, but I have never come out and told him about my life before America. All he knows is I was a girl who got creative in making money and sold other girls for sex, but I have never told him I was sold a million times before that. He doesn't know about the before in great detail only hints of the truth. I am no fool and I assume he knows I have been a hooker at some point. I mean I did for a while even when I got here and needed to keep feeding myself. ''A sad story of a girl who ran away for a better life.'' I move into the lift and put distance between us, praying he stays out there and lets me find solitude alone upstairs. I don't trust this ''nicey, nicey'' act and I'm waiting on him to snap and revert right back into cruel. I feel ravaged and emotional and I know that breaking down in front of him again just killed all my selfrespect in one fell swoop. I feel desolate. ''And then you fell into my lap.'' He says sardonically as another sob escapes me, despite myself. Who knew those seven little honest words would be the start of a whole new kind of emotional pain? ''Water finds its own level. I should accept my fate. You can't rise above your station, no matter how hard you try, what accent you give yourself or how expensive your clothes may be.'' It's the most self-depreciating thing that has come out of my mouth in a long time, but he's ruined my mental state and I can't see beyond the misery right now. I started life as a worthless common shell being used by men, for men, and that's exactly where I am now. I never climbed out of my dark hole; I just found myself much more dangerous captors. Alexi drops his chin and stares at the floor for a long moment, his hand still on the button holding the doors and I hold my breath, willing him to let it and me go. I need space to be alone, and I am so afraid of what he's still capable of doing to me when I have no way of defending myself anymore. I'm a trembling shell of weakness and barely keeping myself up on my shoes. My whole life has been unravelling since the day I met him, and I would be better off more than a hundred miles away from him. Finally, he brings his eyes back up to mine and looks at me without a word, that normal lack of expression, although something hinting in the depths of those empty eyes. He says nothing more, just let's go of the button. Letting the doors close slowly between us as it blocks him out of my sight and presence and releases me from his painful hold. Watching him as he disappears behind my own reflection in the chrome surface and I sag back to burst into a fresh wave of tears when I realise, I'm finally safe.