tagInterracial LoveA Confusing Love

A Confusing Love


I leaned over the old roman balcony, taking solace in the fact that nobody knew where I was. The chilly morning air danced over my skin as I leaned closer towards the edge, taking in the ultramarine water. I would have to take a swim sometime today, enjoy the beauty while it lasted.

The knock at the door pulled me away from my internal peace; I whispered a curse to the intruder. I constricted my waist with the straps of my robe slowly making my way to the door. The door did not have a peep-hole and I cursed again.

"Who is it?" I said to the closed door. When no reply came I asked the question again letting frustration seep into the words.

"Just open the door."

I froze when I heard the voice. I couldn't believe that I talked myself into believing that he wouldn't be able to find me. And he actually came himself. He didn't send one of his workers to fetch his precious thing.

"Victoria." I debated ignoring him, but with a sigh I turned the lock and let him open the door. I walked back to balcony, closing the French doors; I didn't want my sanctuary ruined by the impending horrible conversation.

I turned around to stare at his masculine figure as he sat in the frilly pink living room chair. His dark blue eyes looked around my room, stopping when he got to me. He slowly looked up my body, pausing at my lips, and then moving on to my eyes. I couldn't help but feel chills, his square jaw flexing at my silence.

"Victoria," he sighed again. I didn't realize that I still stood by the door, for some reason that felt like the safer option.

Realizing that I wasn't going to come to him or make the effort to start conversation, he lifted himself off the chair and took two steps toward me. I moved to the side, crossing my arms. I did not want to deal with him today or any other day for that matter. I was done. Done with this life he pulled me into.

The hurt at me moving away from him flashed over his face for just a second before he composed his face to a more stern expression.

"You can't keep running away. You have responsibilities back home, Victoria. Our flight leaves at 10, you should get ready to go."

I couldn't believe he had the audacity to tell me what to do. He knew who I was, the power I held. I did whatever I wanted, when I wanted. No guy was going to tell me otherwise, even if this guy was a mafia king.

"No." I replied, staring him down. There was no way I was going to give in. Our friendship always felt like a competition, most of the time he won, but when I had my mind set on something there was absolutely no give.

"Don't fuck with me, Victoria. We're going home and that's all there is to say about it." It seemed like neither of us were going to give up. He stalked into my room, slamming my suitcase on the bed, and began pulling clothes out of the dresser. I stood in the doorway and watched. He was a fool if he thought that I would give up so easily.

"You can pack all the clothes you want, hell you can take them. But I am not going back to New York until I am ready Damian. Did you hear me? I won't leave until I am ready." My voice was stern. There was no wavering and I knew that he would not take being talked down to well.

He stopped packing and leaned over the suitcase. His muscles constricted as he tightly gripped the sides. He was trying to calm down. It didn't work. He turned and came at me so fast I wasn't even able to move away quick enough. He grabbed by my arms and gave me a glare I should have been afraid to see. But I was determined. Set on the idea that this man was not going to sway me into his way. I am Victoria Austen. I am Victoria Austen.

He pulled me up against a wall and pinned me with his lean, muscular body. The anger was still there, but he loosened his grip on my arms and stared me straight in the eyes.

"Why are you being so stubborn? I'm trying to help you and you know it. This is not healthy, taking off to random countries when you don't want deal with your problems."

"I wasn't running. I was taking a break. It's not really any of your business anyway." The softness that was working its way back into his features was wiped away.

"It is my fucking business. You're my..." he trailed off and looked away.

"Your what, Dom? Your girlfriend?," I laughed and pushed his body away from mine. "I'm more like your fuck buddy, you prick. Isn't that what you said just before I left? Isn't it? Why the fuck aren't you answering?" He looked like a little boy. I had shamed him and I didn't feel bad for it.

"Look, Tor, I was drunk and having a shitty day. I apologized, more than once. How long are you going to hang that over my head? I love you Victoria. Isn't that enough?"

I hated when he pulled the love card. Especially because he was so sincere; I couldn't doubt the adoration in his voice whenever he verbally acknowledged his love for me. I looked at my arms seeing his finger marks still dug into my milk chocolate skin. Was his love enough? I looked up at him, confused. For once in my life I wasn't sure.

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