CH.18
The car raced faster through the traffic. Stephanie already felt the
excitement. It was a strange sense of anticipation that came over her
as a stab of pain in her stomach.
Since that magic night, Stephanie had gone to Riddick every evening.
She spent incredible nights there, only to disappear again at the first
light of morning. There were no questions, nor explanations. It was
only for them to meet again.
Riddick was a wonderful lover. He was strong, virile, passionate -- and
though it seemed incredible -- attentive and generous. He made her feel
alive and complete, like no one ever had before. They were like two
puzzle pieces that fit perfectly together.
Only one strong doubt tormented her. She was terrified of the
possibility that Riddick might have started to kill again. Each time she
saw him in the evening, she found him extremely tired, as if he were
exhausted. But he'd never talked to her about it, and she'd never asked.
It was like they were both afraid to break those magic moments.
But when she left him -- when she was in her bed, thinking -- her fears
invaded her again. She didn't want to know his past, but she also didn't
want it to come back to threaten their present.
Riddick could start a new life, but he had to want to do so. She wasn't
sure what he thought. They'd never talked. After all, she really didn't
know him, she sadly realized, watching the street in front of her.
When she arrived at his house, Jackson opened the door for her as usual,
taking her to Riddick.
"Riddick?" she asked, entering the dark living room.
"I'm here," he said, sitting in a black leather armchair.
She needed a while before her eyes adjusted to the darkness. He looked
tired. Shadows under his eyes incredibly underlined their beauty. He
remained where he was, watching her with dark, languid eyes.
"What a gentleman," she said sarcastically. "Shouldn't a man stand up
when a girl enters?" she kidded him.
"I'm not a gentleman," he simply said.
"Thought you would be pleased to see me."
"I'm pleased to see you."
"Truly?"
He simply nodded.
She joined him, standing just in front of him. "You look tired."
"That's because I am." He raised his eyes slowly, observing her.
She wore black leather pants and a tight black T-shirt. Her hair hung
loose around her shoulders. Then he finally met her gaze.
"Maybe I should leave," she told him, smiling softly, as a provocation.
He grabbed her wrist and pulled her down on his knees, slipping one hand
in her hair. He kissed her roughly, sucking her lips, like he was
claiming his property. When his mouth left hers, she was out of breath,
but smiling.
"Not until that," he said, smiling mischievously. He kissed
Stephanie again, exploring her mouth slowly with his tongue, taking his
time. His lips left hers once more.
She placed her hand on his chest, caressing him and unbuttoning his
shirt.
He caressed her arm, letting her continue, watching her. He liked what
he was seeing. His eyes, dark with desire, stared at her deeply, like he
was thinking about something. Then he frowned and turned his face, as if
he was angry with himself, with his feelings.
He suddenly stood up, and holding her by her wrist, drug her to his room.
He took her wear off, like if he was unwrapping a precious gift. Then he undressed himself and joined her on the bed. He caressed her driving her to the top of her desire. She caressed him softly: his shoulder, his back, his firmed caramel bottom. Than she grabbed to him, overwhelmed by this incredible passion following him to his movements. Pleasure invaded their minds, their bodies, and he stopped the caress to bring out a savage fury, and passion increased and for an incredible moment both of them remained hanging in ecstasy, no more barriers, just held together, lost in each others arms. Than they felt in an unconscious resting sleep.
-----------------------------------
He was sitting in his armchair near the bed, naked. His long, muscular
legs were stretched out, his feet crossed and propped up on the edge of
the bed. He was observing her. She was like a dream. He tilted his
head to one side so he could study her better. How long he'd been there,
he didn't know.
She was lying on her stomach, naked, sleeping peacefully. His eyes passed
over her body once more. He could never get enough of her. Her skin was
tanned like honey. Her golden hair hung like a soft cloud, delicately
flowing over her shoulders and down her back. Her long eyelashes, her
beautiful mouth. . . those lips were so inviting. She could drive him
crazy.
He smiled to himself.
What's so funny?" she asked him suddenly, opening her big, blue eyes and
staring at him. She smiled. She was relaxed, feeling pleasantly stiff.
She stretched lazily.
She was like a cat, he thought, but didn't answer. He just stayed still,
gazing at her. She drew herself up. Her hair cascaded down in soft
waves, covering her breast. She looked like Eve, he thought.
"What time is it?" she asked, worried, sleepily looking around.
Outside, it was still dark.
"It's 5:00 a.m.," he said, without taking his eyes off her body.
"It's time for me to go," she said, standing up.
"Come here," he ordered.
She looked at him and smiled, then joined him in the armchair, sitting
astride his legs.
"What will you say when you go back home?" he asked her, pulling back her
hair and kissing her languish.
"Nothing -- No one knows."
He looked at her thoughtfully, his eyes became sullen.
What did he want?
"Even Jackie?" he insisted, not looking at her, but concentrating on
caressing her body.
"I suppose she might suspect something, but she has never asked me."
Why was he so curious to know?
"What? You don't trust me?" she said, in a provoking tone, staring at
him.
"Maybe. . . And you? You trust me?" he asked, lifting his head and
staring back at her.
She looked at him, feeling nervous.
He had to know. He knew what she was thinking, as usual.
She stood up and went back to the bed.
"I. . . I. . . think. . .I can't-," she said softly. She thought of all
her fears, and prepared herself for a furious reaction.
But he remained very calm, smiling, as if he knew already.
"But- but, it's different!" She felt the need to justify herself. "I
never lied to you."
"Neither did I," he simply replied, crossing his hands on his lap, as he
watched her inner struggle.
He was right. He could have lied about everything, but he'd always been
sincere.
"I've gotta go now," she said nervously, "It's not the right moment to
have this conversation."
"I think this is the perfect moment," he said, looking very calm. But
his cold tone scared her more than when he lost his control.
"Let's talk. I find this conversation very useful, don't you?"
"No," she said, starting to pick up her clothes from the floor nervously,
under his cold gaze.
"You sit down!" he ordered her firmly.
But she continued picking up her things impassively.
"I said-"
"I heard what you said!" she answered, exasperated. Then she sat down.
"Ok. You want to talk? Let's talk!" she said decisively, trying to hide
her nervousness.
He smiled ironically, watching her sit down. "What's up, Ephie?" he asked
very calmly.
"Nothing."
He gave her a warning look.
Ok. I have a lot of questions in my mind recently."
"Like?"
Was it right to tell him?
"Like, what you do when we are not together. Why you are so tired at
night.."
"That is not your concern," he said coldly closing in himself.
I want to know if you have killed again -- recently."
"Would that be a problem?" he said sarcastically.
"Yes, that would be a problem," she said sharply.
"Why? Are you afraid I might kill you?" His tone hadn't changed.
"I don't know. You tell me." She paused. "Am I risking my life?"
"You better be a good girl."
"You can't be serious!"
"Who knows. . . You don't know me."
She looked at him sadly. He was right.
"What? You don't like this man anymore? Are you ashamed of me?" he
asked sarcastically.
"I'm not ashamed of you. I'm worried."
"About what?"
"Your life. You can have a better life than what you had." she explained.
"This is not of your concern," he repeated harshly.
She looked at him in silence. It didn't help. He'd built a barrier
between them.
"Let's talk about you," he said after a while. His tone was calmer.
"What about me?" she asked, not understanding
"Is there something you should tell me?"
"Sorry? I don't think I understand."
"Think, Ephie," he said firmly.
"No." she frowned, still not understanding.
"About Guy -- what he did -- what you did."
"Nothing."
"I wouldn't call it nothing," he said in a warning tone.
"Listen. . . that's enough! You want to play games. I don't have time
for this, so if you'll excuse me, I've got to go." She stood up.
"Sit down. You sit!" he ordered. His voice was so harsh, she obeyed.
"What do you want?" she said through her teeth.
"I want the truth."
"Truth? This is the truth!" she said, gesturing to Riddick and herself.
"Nothing else matters."
"I don't think so. Why don't you tell me about your relationship with
Guy?"
"Maybe because there isn't one!" She was losing her control.
"Don't joke with me," he warned her.
"I can't believe you're saying this to me," she said, astonished.
"Guess what Ephie? I think you're hiding something from me," he said,
raising an eyebrow.
"No, I'm not."
"You're a liar."
"Fuck! I never lied to you!" she said decisively.
"My honest little cat, aren't you?" he said sarcastically. "So, what
does Guy mean to you?"
"This is not of your concern." she said coldly, using his own words.
"I think it is -- more than you realize." He was still so quiet, so
controlled.
"You're talking crazy."
"I don't want to share what is mine with anyone else."
Usually these words would have made her happy, but he'd used a different
tone.
"First, you don't possess me. I'm not an object. Second, what the hell
are you talking about?"
"I saw him kissing you. Don't deny it. I saw you."
Guy had only kissed her once -- after the party. Was it possible he was
there and saw Guy kiss her? No!
"What's going on Ephie? Do you like to have more than one choice -- the
good guy or the bad guy?" He was angry. "Need some *nasty* dark passion?" he
said sarcastically.
"Don't even start Riddick!" she admonished him.
"What's the problem? Doesn't he give you enough pleasure?" His words were
harsh. There was coldness and anger in his voice.
"D-don't-" she tried to say, but he interrupted her.
"Does he make you cry when he's fucking you?" He was becoming violent.
His animal side was starting to show.
"You stop!" she shouted, with tears in her eyes.
"Why? Why you don't trust me?" she asked sadly.
"Because I saw you," he dryly said.
"You saw nothing."
"I saw enough."
"You only saw what you wanted to see," she said, crying silently.
"Nothing happened -- nothing."
He gave her a stern look. He didn't believe her. She felt so
cold inside.
"You're blind with your own hatred. I never betrayed you -- never. I
never lied to you."
"Please! You can treat me like an animal, but don't underestimate my
intelligence," he said with contempt.
"If you cannot trust me, it will never work between us," she said in a
loud voice.
"Maybe you should add that I don't even deserve you," he said bitterly.
"Why are you doing this to us?" she asked desperately. "I always
respected you, even when other people did not."
"It seems I'm sharing you with someone else." His cold, dull tone hurt
her, but she didn't want to loose him. He looked away from her, his gaze
lost in the emptiness.
"But you are not! Guy is a good man, but there's nothing between us!"
He wasn't listening to her, she realized. It was absurd. She was
begging forgiveness for something she hadn't done. She felt anger
welling up inside her beside the pain.
"Ok, what do you want to hear?" She lost control. "We had sex? Is that
what you want to hear?"
He turned his head and looked at her -- waiting -- now more interested.
"Yes, we had sex! I wanted something different!" It wasn't true,
but she had completely lost her control. She was just as angry as he
was.
"Satisfied? But, after all, what are you pretending with me? What
am I to you? Nothing. You used me for your purpose! And what an idiot I've
been! I let you do it -- until now. Because: Hey-- Surprise! I used you too! It's not fun at all to discover, isn't it?"
She was furious and desperate at the same time. He'd hurt her. After
all they'd done together, he still didn't believe her. She cried silent
tears.
His smile was cold. A muscle twitched on his face. He looked very
controlled, but she noticed he was clenching his fists until his knuckles
turned white. He had to be very angry now, and he was making a
tremendous effort to control himself. She wanted him to lose this cold
appearance -- this barrier he'd erected -- and talk to her, tell her his
feelings.
You surprise me more all the time, Stephanie. You are just as
cold and calculating as me." he said, raising an eyebrow. "I thought
you were different. I thought you were pure and honest -- I was wrong."
There was sadness in his voice.
No, please -- Don't continue! Stephanie thought to herself.
"You are a phony -- worse than Johns! At least I knew what to expect
from him," he said in a disparaging tone.
He was hurting her. She couldn't bear it. If he killed her, it would
have been less painful.
"Whore -- you're just a whore!" He was in a rage now. "Go! Go away
now! Go to the police. Don't waste the chance to tell them I raped you!
It's a golden chance. Better not lose it." His voice was full of
sarcasm.
She shook her head in disbelief. This was awful.
"You know I would never do that! I would rather have you kill me than
talk to me this way!" she said in desperation, crying.
"You want me to kill you?" he shouted. A cold sadistic smile was on
his face.
"Do me!" she said in desperation.
"Don't provoke me, Stephanie-" he said, pulling out his shiv. His
expression had changed. His eyes were gleaming. The blade of the shiv
reflected the dim light.
"Come on!" Stephanie cried, out of control.
"Yeah!" he finally said, like he was in a trance. He suddenly threw the
shiv at her with all his fury.
She closed her eyes, waiting for her end. At the same time, turning her
head a little to one side in an uncontrolled reaction. The shiv passed
within inches of her face and stuck into the wall behind her.
It's not even worth wasting my time to kill you," he said in a disgusted
tone, shaking his head.
She was crying openly now. She closed her eyes, feeling the pain. She
was losing him. His last words were full of a coldness that had taken
her by surprise. He had closed her out of his life. She thought she
was going to die -- the pain she was feeling was so intense.
"Why are you destroying what we have?" she said between sobs.
"You did it! It's your fault Stephanie. You ruined everything. You
disappointed me," he said dryly.
She felt like she was suffocating. She prayed silently it was all a
terrible nightmare. He was talking again. She forced herself to focus
on his words.
"There is nothing left to say."
"No-" she whispered, knowing what he was going to say.
"Go now. You disgust me." His eyes were cold, full of contempt.
He stood up, quickly putting on his pants, and threw something to her
before leaving the room. She held it, her eyes full of tears. She
opened her hand and looked -- it was the diamond.
"That's for you," he said in an icy, disparaging tone. "You earned
it -- for your performance." He stressed the last three words.
He looked at her for a while, then turned his eyes away from her. He
couldn't stand to watch her anymore. Even now, she was so beautiful.
She was crying desperately. She was naked -- her long, beautiful blond
hair softly framing her face and flowing down over her breast. Her
soft, tanned skin. Her long legs. Her deep blue eyes, full of tears,
staring at him. She was like a Venus coming from the sea. He shook his
head, furious with himself because he was still attracted to her. He
walked out and left her alone.
She sank down on the bed, crying desperately. She felt so weak at this
moment. She held her clothes tightly to her. She felt so cold inside.
How had everything changed so suddenly? She didn't know how long she
stayed there -- lying on the bed -- crying until she had no more tears.
Then, as if in a trance, she dressed herself and ran away. Far, far from
there -- far from him.
--------------------------------------------
The car raced faster through the traffic. Stephanie already felt the
excitement. It was a strange sense of anticipation that came over her
as a stab of pain in her stomach.
Since that magic night, Stephanie had gone to Riddick every evening.
She spent incredible nights there, only to disappear again at the first
light of morning. There were no questions, nor explanations. It was
only for them to meet again.
Riddick was a wonderful lover. He was strong, virile, passionate -- and
though it seemed incredible -- attentive and generous. He made her feel
alive and complete, like no one ever had before. They were like two
puzzle pieces that fit perfectly together.
Only one strong doubt tormented her. She was terrified of the
possibility that Riddick might have started to kill again. Each time she
saw him in the evening, she found him extremely tired, as if he were
exhausted. But he'd never talked to her about it, and she'd never asked.
It was like they were both afraid to break those magic moments.
But when she left him -- when she was in her bed, thinking -- her fears
invaded her again. She didn't want to know his past, but she also didn't
want it to come back to threaten their present.
Riddick could start a new life, but he had to want to do so. She wasn't
sure what he thought. They'd never talked. After all, she really didn't
know him, she sadly realized, watching the street in front of her.
When she arrived at his house, Jackson opened the door for her as usual,
taking her to Riddick.
"Riddick?" she asked, entering the dark living room.
"I'm here," he said, sitting in a black leather armchair.
She needed a while before her eyes adjusted to the darkness. He looked
tired. Shadows under his eyes incredibly underlined their beauty. He
remained where he was, watching her with dark, languid eyes.
"What a gentleman," she said sarcastically. "Shouldn't a man stand up
when a girl enters?" she kidded him.
"I'm not a gentleman," he simply said.
"Thought you would be pleased to see me."
"I'm pleased to see you."
"Truly?"
He simply nodded.
She joined him, standing just in front of him. "You look tired."
"That's because I am." He raised his eyes slowly, observing her.
She wore black leather pants and a tight black T-shirt. Her hair hung
loose around her shoulders. Then he finally met her gaze.
"Maybe I should leave," she told him, smiling softly, as a provocation.
He grabbed her wrist and pulled her down on his knees, slipping one hand
in her hair. He kissed her roughly, sucking her lips, like he was
claiming his property. When his mouth left hers, she was out of breath,
but smiling.
"Not until that," he said, smiling mischievously. He kissed
Stephanie again, exploring her mouth slowly with his tongue, taking his
time. His lips left hers once more.
She placed her hand on his chest, caressing him and unbuttoning his
shirt.
He caressed her arm, letting her continue, watching her. He liked what
he was seeing. His eyes, dark with desire, stared at her deeply, like he
was thinking about something. Then he frowned and turned his face, as if
he was angry with himself, with his feelings.
He suddenly stood up, and holding her by her wrist, drug her to his room.
He took her wear off, like if he was unwrapping a precious gift. Then he undressed himself and joined her on the bed. He caressed her driving her to the top of her desire. She caressed him softly: his shoulder, his back, his firmed caramel bottom. Than she grabbed to him, overwhelmed by this incredible passion following him to his movements. Pleasure invaded their minds, their bodies, and he stopped the caress to bring out a savage fury, and passion increased and for an incredible moment both of them remained hanging in ecstasy, no more barriers, just held together, lost in each others arms. Than they felt in an unconscious resting sleep.
-----------------------------------
He was sitting in his armchair near the bed, naked. His long, muscular
legs were stretched out, his feet crossed and propped up on the edge of
the bed. He was observing her. She was like a dream. He tilted his
head to one side so he could study her better. How long he'd been there,
he didn't know.
She was lying on her stomach, naked, sleeping peacefully. His eyes passed
over her body once more. He could never get enough of her. Her skin was
tanned like honey. Her golden hair hung like a soft cloud, delicately
flowing over her shoulders and down her back. Her long eyelashes, her
beautiful mouth. . . those lips were so inviting. She could drive him
crazy.
He smiled to himself.
What's so funny?" she asked him suddenly, opening her big, blue eyes and
staring at him. She smiled. She was relaxed, feeling pleasantly stiff.
She stretched lazily.
She was like a cat, he thought, but didn't answer. He just stayed still,
gazing at her. She drew herself up. Her hair cascaded down in soft
waves, covering her breast. She looked like Eve, he thought.
"What time is it?" she asked, worried, sleepily looking around.
Outside, it was still dark.
"It's 5:00 a.m.," he said, without taking his eyes off her body.
"It's time for me to go," she said, standing up.
"Come here," he ordered.
She looked at him and smiled, then joined him in the armchair, sitting
astride his legs.
"What will you say when you go back home?" he asked her, pulling back her
hair and kissing her languish.
"Nothing -- No one knows."
He looked at her thoughtfully, his eyes became sullen.
What did he want?
"Even Jackie?" he insisted, not looking at her, but concentrating on
caressing her body.
"I suppose she might suspect something, but she has never asked me."
Why was he so curious to know?
"What? You don't trust me?" she said, in a provoking tone, staring at
him.
"Maybe. . . And you? You trust me?" he asked, lifting his head and
staring back at her.
She looked at him, feeling nervous.
He had to know. He knew what she was thinking, as usual.
She stood up and went back to the bed.
"I. . . I. . . think. . .I can't-," she said softly. She thought of all
her fears, and prepared herself for a furious reaction.
But he remained very calm, smiling, as if he knew already.
"But- but, it's different!" She felt the need to justify herself. "I
never lied to you."
"Neither did I," he simply replied, crossing his hands on his lap, as he
watched her inner struggle.
He was right. He could have lied about everything, but he'd always been
sincere.
"I've gotta go now," she said nervously, "It's not the right moment to
have this conversation."
"I think this is the perfect moment," he said, looking very calm. But
his cold tone scared her more than when he lost his control.
"Let's talk. I find this conversation very useful, don't you?"
"No," she said, starting to pick up her clothes from the floor nervously,
under his cold gaze.
"You sit down!" he ordered her firmly.
But she continued picking up her things impassively.
"I said-"
"I heard what you said!" she answered, exasperated. Then she sat down.
"Ok. You want to talk? Let's talk!" she said decisively, trying to hide
her nervousness.
He smiled ironically, watching her sit down. "What's up, Ephie?" he asked
very calmly.
"Nothing."
He gave her a warning look.
Ok. I have a lot of questions in my mind recently."
"Like?"
Was it right to tell him?
"Like, what you do when we are not together. Why you are so tired at
night.."
"That is not your concern," he said coldly closing in himself.
I want to know if you have killed again -- recently."
"Would that be a problem?" he said sarcastically.
"Yes, that would be a problem," she said sharply.
"Why? Are you afraid I might kill you?" His tone hadn't changed.
"I don't know. You tell me." She paused. "Am I risking my life?"
"You better be a good girl."
"You can't be serious!"
"Who knows. . . You don't know me."
She looked at him sadly. He was right.
"What? You don't like this man anymore? Are you ashamed of me?" he
asked sarcastically.
"I'm not ashamed of you. I'm worried."
"About what?"
"Your life. You can have a better life than what you had." she explained.
"This is not of your concern," he repeated harshly.
She looked at him in silence. It didn't help. He'd built a barrier
between them.
"Let's talk about you," he said after a while. His tone was calmer.
"What about me?" she asked, not understanding
"Is there something you should tell me?"
"Sorry? I don't think I understand."
"Think, Ephie," he said firmly.
"No." she frowned, still not understanding.
"About Guy -- what he did -- what you did."
"Nothing."
"I wouldn't call it nothing," he said in a warning tone.
"Listen. . . that's enough! You want to play games. I don't have time
for this, so if you'll excuse me, I've got to go." She stood up.
"Sit down. You sit!" he ordered. His voice was so harsh, she obeyed.
"What do you want?" she said through her teeth.
"I want the truth."
"Truth? This is the truth!" she said, gesturing to Riddick and herself.
"Nothing else matters."
"I don't think so. Why don't you tell me about your relationship with
Guy?"
"Maybe because there isn't one!" She was losing her control.
"Don't joke with me," he warned her.
"I can't believe you're saying this to me," she said, astonished.
"Guess what Ephie? I think you're hiding something from me," he said,
raising an eyebrow.
"No, I'm not."
"You're a liar."
"Fuck! I never lied to you!" she said decisively.
"My honest little cat, aren't you?" he said sarcastically. "So, what
does Guy mean to you?"
"This is not of your concern." she said coldly, using his own words.
"I think it is -- more than you realize." He was still so quiet, so
controlled.
"You're talking crazy."
"I don't want to share what is mine with anyone else."
Usually these words would have made her happy, but he'd used a different
tone.
"First, you don't possess me. I'm not an object. Second, what the hell
are you talking about?"
"I saw him kissing you. Don't deny it. I saw you."
Guy had only kissed her once -- after the party. Was it possible he was
there and saw Guy kiss her? No!
"What's going on Ephie? Do you like to have more than one choice -- the
good guy or the bad guy?" He was angry. "Need some *nasty* dark passion?" he
said sarcastically.
"Don't even start Riddick!" she admonished him.
"What's the problem? Doesn't he give you enough pleasure?" His words were
harsh. There was coldness and anger in his voice.
"D-don't-" she tried to say, but he interrupted her.
"Does he make you cry when he's fucking you?" He was becoming violent.
His animal side was starting to show.
"You stop!" she shouted, with tears in her eyes.
"Why? Why you don't trust me?" she asked sadly.
"Because I saw you," he dryly said.
"You saw nothing."
"I saw enough."
"You only saw what you wanted to see," she said, crying silently.
"Nothing happened -- nothing."
He gave her a stern look. He didn't believe her. She felt so
cold inside.
"You're blind with your own hatred. I never betrayed you -- never. I
never lied to you."
"Please! You can treat me like an animal, but don't underestimate my
intelligence," he said with contempt.
"If you cannot trust me, it will never work between us," she said in a
loud voice.
"Maybe you should add that I don't even deserve you," he said bitterly.
"Why are you doing this to us?" she asked desperately. "I always
respected you, even when other people did not."
"It seems I'm sharing you with someone else." His cold, dull tone hurt
her, but she didn't want to loose him. He looked away from her, his gaze
lost in the emptiness.
"But you are not! Guy is a good man, but there's nothing between us!"
He wasn't listening to her, she realized. It was absurd. She was
begging forgiveness for something she hadn't done. She felt anger
welling up inside her beside the pain.
"Ok, what do you want to hear?" She lost control. "We had sex? Is that
what you want to hear?"
He turned his head and looked at her -- waiting -- now more interested.
"Yes, we had sex! I wanted something different!" It wasn't true,
but she had completely lost her control. She was just as angry as he
was.
"Satisfied? But, after all, what are you pretending with me? What
am I to you? Nothing. You used me for your purpose! And what an idiot I've
been! I let you do it -- until now. Because: Hey-- Surprise! I used you too! It's not fun at all to discover, isn't it?"
She was furious and desperate at the same time. He'd hurt her. After
all they'd done together, he still didn't believe her. She cried silent
tears.
His smile was cold. A muscle twitched on his face. He looked very
controlled, but she noticed he was clenching his fists until his knuckles
turned white. He had to be very angry now, and he was making a
tremendous effort to control himself. She wanted him to lose this cold
appearance -- this barrier he'd erected -- and talk to her, tell her his
feelings.
You surprise me more all the time, Stephanie. You are just as
cold and calculating as me." he said, raising an eyebrow. "I thought
you were different. I thought you were pure and honest -- I was wrong."
There was sadness in his voice.
No, please -- Don't continue! Stephanie thought to herself.
"You are a phony -- worse than Johns! At least I knew what to expect
from him," he said in a disparaging tone.
He was hurting her. She couldn't bear it. If he killed her, it would
have been less painful.
"Whore -- you're just a whore!" He was in a rage now. "Go! Go away
now! Go to the police. Don't waste the chance to tell them I raped you!
It's a golden chance. Better not lose it." His voice was full of
sarcasm.
She shook her head in disbelief. This was awful.
"You know I would never do that! I would rather have you kill me than
talk to me this way!" she said in desperation, crying.
"You want me to kill you?" he shouted. A cold sadistic smile was on
his face.
"Do me!" she said in desperation.
"Don't provoke me, Stephanie-" he said, pulling out his shiv. His
expression had changed. His eyes were gleaming. The blade of the shiv
reflected the dim light.
"Come on!" Stephanie cried, out of control.
"Yeah!" he finally said, like he was in a trance. He suddenly threw the
shiv at her with all his fury.
She closed her eyes, waiting for her end. At the same time, turning her
head a little to one side in an uncontrolled reaction. The shiv passed
within inches of her face and stuck into the wall behind her.
It's not even worth wasting my time to kill you," he said in a disgusted
tone, shaking his head.
She was crying openly now. She closed her eyes, feeling the pain. She
was losing him. His last words were full of a coldness that had taken
her by surprise. He had closed her out of his life. She thought she
was going to die -- the pain she was feeling was so intense.
"Why are you destroying what we have?" she said between sobs.
"You did it! It's your fault Stephanie. You ruined everything. You
disappointed me," he said dryly.
She felt like she was suffocating. She prayed silently it was all a
terrible nightmare. He was talking again. She forced herself to focus
on his words.
"There is nothing left to say."
"No-" she whispered, knowing what he was going to say.
"Go now. You disgust me." His eyes were cold, full of contempt.
He stood up, quickly putting on his pants, and threw something to her
before leaving the room. She held it, her eyes full of tears. She
opened her hand and looked -- it was the diamond.
"That's for you," he said in an icy, disparaging tone. "You earned
it -- for your performance." He stressed the last three words.
He looked at her for a while, then turned his eyes away from her. He
couldn't stand to watch her anymore. Even now, she was so beautiful.
She was crying desperately. She was naked -- her long, beautiful blond
hair softly framing her face and flowing down over her breast. Her
soft, tanned skin. Her long legs. Her deep blue eyes, full of tears,
staring at him. She was like a Venus coming from the sea. He shook his
head, furious with himself because he was still attracted to her. He
walked out and left her alone.
She sank down on the bed, crying desperately. She felt so weak at this
moment. She held her clothes tightly to her. She felt so cold inside.
How had everything changed so suddenly? She didn't know how long she
stayed there -- lying on the bed -- crying until she had no more tears.
Then, as if in a trance, she dressed herself and ran away. Far, far from
there -- far from him.
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