“We’re back to that again?” he snaps. “Victoria, I’ve already reserved two seats at this event. If you don’t accompany me, then I’ll have no choice but to take someone else.”
Ouch. That fucking hurts. “Fine,” I reply weakly, hanging up the phone.
I curl into a ball on my bed and cry myself to sleep.
Chapter Fourteen
Victoria
Instead of going into work the next day, I opt to spend it in a comatose state on the couch. Alanna pulls out all the stops to try to cheer me up, but nothing works.
I can’t bring myself to tell her that I’m in love with him. I know she’ll want to fix this somehow, but there’s nothing to be done. Eleanore is still out there, and as long as she’s looking for me, everyone around me is at risk.
When I wake up on Tuesday, I check my phone to see that I still have no messages or calls from Gabriel. Sadness envelops me. My burning curiosity of who he spent the evening with is getting the best of me, and against my better judgment, I fire up my laptop and confront google. It doesn’t take me long to find out.
Article after article pops up, photos of him and Anya together. Bile rises in my throat as I stare at the images before me. Photos of them laughing, dancing, and smiling for the press, his hand on her lower back in a sensual gesture.
My stomach churns violently as I slam the computer shut. He hasn’t called me, and in the back of my mind I wonder if it’s because he was too busy spending the night with her. Maybe Anya was right all along.
I curl into my mattress, choking back heavy sobs. Alanna bursts through the door with a concerned expression on her face.
“Toto?” she sits down on the bed beside me, grabbing my hand. “What happened?”
“He took Anya to the event,” I say weakly. God, I sound pathetic.
“Oh.” She shakes her head, anger filling her eyes. “Why the hell would he do that?”
I can’t help the sad laugh that bursts from my lungs.
“He warned me,” I say. “He’d already reserved two seats, and if I didn’t go he would have to take someone else. I just didn’t think it would be her.”
“What are you going to do?” she asks in a small voice. “I mean now. Are you guys going to be okay?”
I don’t know how to answer that. How could we be? I can’t really be a part of his life in the way that I want to, and this is the cold, hard reminder of that fact. Ultimately, I’m going to have to leave. So why delay the inevitable? If it’s already this painful now, how can I bear to drag it out anymore? Our whole relationship is based on a lie. In the grand scheme of things, he hardly knows anything about me.
I shake my head, my decision made up. “No, I’m going to end it now. There’s no point in continuing like this. It will just hurt that much more in a month.”
Alanna slumps at my words, looking physically distraught. It isn’t her typical reaction to this sort of thing. Usually, she’d be giving me a girl power pep talk, but she actually looks pained.
“Okay.” She nods solemnly.
I call up the courier company I work for and ask them to make a delivery for me. I package up the diamond collar Gabriel gave me, wrapping it carefully in tissue paper.
It means you belong to me.
His words echo through my head, making me sob again. It was an unusual gift, one that I’m sure would revolt feminists everywhere. But I actually cherished what it symbolized between us. Gabriel needs to have control over the woman in his life. I suspect it has something to do with him being used by women for so long. Women like Anya.
Perhaps Gabriel can only have his needs met by telling women exactly what he desires. It saddens me. He’s so rough around the edges, but I know that isn’t who he really is. He intentionally makes himself hard to love, but I think that proves that’s why he needs it the most. I only wish I could be the one to love him. Somehow, a part of me knew that I always would. Like Artemis and Orion, fate was working against us. We couldn’t be together in this life, but he would forever be immortalized in my heart.
Either way, I don’t really care what Gabriel’s reasons are for his need to control. Because what I learned during our time together was that I needed it more. Maybe that means there’s something fundamentally wrong with me, but I don’t care. I like his brand of rough sex. His pleasure. It didn’t matter what he doled out, I always knew I could handle it. Whatever he wanted to give to me, I would take.