Fractured (The Volkov Mafia Series Book 3) (10 page)

“That’s a beautiful word, and where are we going, Malc?” she asks, her eyes looking directly at me with something akin to hope shining in them.

“My home. If you’d have told me that this house brings you so many bad memories I would have never brought you back here. I only stay here because it is easier if Damien needs me.” I see her flinch a little when I refer to work but she keeps strong and takes a couple of deep breaths to get her through the words that I have just uttered.

“Thank you, Malc. I hate being here, don’t get me wrong I love Faith to bits, but it’s still too raw. This is the first time I have stepped inside the house since the wedding, I can’t remember too much of that as I was taking my medication at the time and it suppressed a lot of the anxiety that I felt back then. It was only when we found out I was expecting that I stopped taking them in fear that it would harm the babies. I never went to the doctor in Scotland to get more, because… well, I was coping ok up there – not that many triggers.” How could I have not seen the effect that this place would have had on her? She had the brunt of the attack, and he used to sleep under this roof. How could I have been so blind? I should have just taken her to our home but the fear of her seeing the nursery held me captive so I brought her here thinking it would have been better. I see now how wrong I have been and it is just causing her more pain.

“Pack up your things; we will have dinner and leave after that. I will explain to Damien and Faith why we are leaving. Don’t worry I have you, baby.” A slight smile lights up her face with my words and I think it must be the first one that has touched her eyes in months. I vow to put more smiles like that on her face.

“OK,” is all she says before she slips off the bed to go and get packed and dressed so that I can take her home where she belongs.

Cami

I expected the drive to be a long one to the house but it wasn’t five minutes and we were there. It is nothing like Damien and Faith’s house. The little house sat proud in the street and the outside looked well-kept and clean, modest is the word I would use. A man that had money but did not brag about it by showing off his wealth.

He pulled the car to a stop outside and stepped out, opening the back door and unclipping the car seat to carry Charlie out. I stepped out of the car and closed the door waiting to follow him into his house. We walk inside but he seems tense like this is not how he wanted me to see his home, he walked tall and proud but every step was strained.

I noticed straight away that the house is bare and cold, not used as a home, more of a base. It is clean, bare but clean and he has the most minimal of furniture: a couch and TV made up the living room. He takes me straight into the kitchen and places Charlie’s car seat down on the floor. Then he goes straight to the kettle that is sat on the wooden worktop and proceeds to fill it up and place it on to boil. The kitchen is in desperate need of a upgrade; the 1970’s country style kitchen just does not fit in with the house, well, it does not fit in with the man. God, I have only been here five minutes and I am already planning on changing the house, decorating it to my taste –
pathetic.

He places a cup of tea on the counter for me and I pick it up gladly, anything to distract from this desperate silence.

“Where will Charlie and I be sleeping?” I ask him, not wanting to presume that I would be in with him. I hope I will be but I keep that little snippet to myself.

“You both will be upstairs. Give me five minutes to have my brew and I will show you.” I feel a little dejected that he did not demand me to be with him. 

“Ok,” I say not wanting to keep trying to break a silence he so desperately wants. He is still tense like he is preparing for a reaction to something, to what I’m not sure.

Leaving Faith had been hard. I had heard him shouting at Malc while I hid with Charlie. I couldn’t face her, she had just got me back and I was demanding to leave – it’s not Faith that I was running from, just her home and the memories of Jake roaming around that house were clawing at my insides making me gut wrenchingly sick every time I left Malc’s room. Even in the beautiful kitchen where we had all enjoyed meals and Lilly’s cooking – her food was delightful. I hope to see Lilly soon as she has always been kind to me, even though I had been standoffish at first with her. After the attack she came to see me in the hospital and swore to me that Malc had not left my side and he was not doing that under any orders from Damien, it was all him. The tension had been growing with him from the moment I met him – he was stunning, the closely shaved head a little longer on the top, the bulk of muscles that covered his body, the tattoos that cover most of his arms. I only saw half of them at the time because his shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, offering me a glance at the delicious ink that covered his skin. I had a feeling that every one of those tattoos had a meaning and I couldn’t wait to find out what every one meant, to trace the lines of them with my hands, hell, even my tongue. Then he spoke in that sexy as hell accent and I knew straight away that he had a Russian influence that helped shape his English accent. That sexy as hell way he rolled his Rs, hell, it made me wet whenever he spoke to me. But I had to stay strong; I couldn’t be with him, with the
family.
I could not be in this life. I was seeing first-hand what it was doing to Faith, it was destroying her.

“You ready to see the rest of the house?” Malc’s words pull me from my running thoughts. Am I ready? Hell yeah, I am. I want to see his room, his bed.

“Lead the way,” I say to him, looking across to him. He has Charlie in his arms as we set off out of the kitchen and head upstairs. The walk up the stairs to the rest of the house is quiet, again with the tense silence. We get onto the landing; the open space has four doors leading off it, again all the walls are bare, no pictures hanging on the walls, and painted a stark white.
Cold.
Was my only thought.

He opens the first door and it is a nice and clean bathroom, the white suite looks brand new, like it has not really been lived in.

“This is the bathroom, towels are in the cupboard near the shower.” His voice sounds strained again and I am starting to get more anxious with each passing step. What was he afraid of showing me? I wish he would just hurry up and show me. “The master bedroom,” he grunts as he opens the next door, following close behind I step inside and almost gasp. It is empty apart from a bed frame, but what strikes me most is the still wrapped mattress that sits on the frame. This house is not even slept in.

“Where do you sleep, Malc? That bed is brand new,” I question him, why had he shown me an empty house, because this sure as hell wasn’t a home.

“I sleep in the next room,” he says, nothing more to add just a simple reply to my question.

Stepping out of the room we come to the other door, he pauses at the door with his head slightly down, shielding his face from me. Why does he look ashamed? Is it really that bad that he did not want to show me where he slept? Then I gasp when he opens the door and my heart breaks at what I see. This room is nothing like the rest of the house: the pale blue walls, the cars on the border around the room, the matching curtains that hang at the window, the stunning nursery furniture that is placed around the room. I cover my mouth to stop me from crying out. It is beautiful – all any woman could want in a nursery. I step further into the room and walk over to the rocking chair. Looking down I see the only picture of me holding our two boys and as I pick it up from the table my knees give out and I collapse onto the floor clutching the frame to my chest. My beautiful boy. It has been four months since I have seen Andrew, I see him every day in Charlie but it’s not the same, to look at him in the picture breaks me. Why? It’s that same question that haunts me. “Andrew,” I breathe and the tears coat my cheeks. The pain becoming fresh all over again, that ache in my heart that will never be fixed.

“You kept this picture,” I say not really for a reply, just stating a fact.

“Of course I kept the only picture I have of my wife and boys. It was all I had to get me through the nights, Camilla. Every night I slept in that chair holding that picture, it was my way of keeping you both with me.” His words stole the last bit of breath I had. I need to calm the emotions that are consuming me; taking big deep breaths I tried to stem the flow tears. After a few minutes I manage to calm myself enough to ask more questions, I want to know how and when he did all of this.

“When did you do all of this?” I ask him.

“The completion of the sale of the house was the day the boys were born. I wanted a home for us to be a family. The only room in the house that has had love put into it was the nursery for Charlie, I did it the week after you left me, I wanted it to be ready if you ever came home.” Even when I was not with him and ignoring him or even worse when I am using him, he still cares enough to do all of this for us, wanting us to be a family.

“I didn’t know, Malc, why did you never tell me?” I ask him.

“Would it have made a difference? Would you have stayed with me and fought?” His question was valid at the time but I was so blind to anything that was going on around me that my only feeling was to run, to numb the pain.

“No, I don’t think it would have, but why don’t you sleep in the master bedroom? You could have had the picture in there with you.” I need to hear the words; I want to know why.

“I was not sleeping in that bed without my wife next to me.” That does it. Why can’t I be what he needs? Why can’t I just forget the past and move on? Why do I let it destroy me? Because I am weak, that’s why. I am a coward who would rather run than stay and fight for what I want, fight for my man.

“I’m sorry, Malcolm.” What else can I say to him after I have destroyed everything he had? I was the one who took it all away, not Jake, ME. Now I have to try, that’s all I can do is TRY. He deserves that from me at least. I have to think of what he has been through, not just my own pain but I have to help him heal his pain. After all we both lost Andrew, not just me.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Camilla, you did what you thought was best for you at the time. Besides, I think you were right, we would have only come to hate each other if you had stayed. I wanted what you could not give me at the time. I see that now.” Why does he do it? No matter what I do or say to him he always seems to forgive me for everything.

“Let me get him ready for bed then we can talk some more, how does that sound?” I ask him, hoping it is enough for now. I know how my mind works at the moment and I can feel the need rising inside of me to get him to fuck me so I can forget. The need to block it all out, to get rid of the feelings that are swarming through me, to hide the pain. He deserves better from me and I want to try and talk about it all with him – I need to. 

I put Charlie to bed – kissing him on the head after I give him his feed, I then place him in his new cot. Then I go to sit in the living room and wait for Malc to come in so we can try and talk. It’s time to let it all out, get everything out in the open, our fears and our wants. He strides in and I can’t help but notice that he’s only wearing a well-worn pair of jeans that ride low on his hips, the tattooed chest is on display to me in all its muscled glory.
Yeah, like that’s not distracting.
He hands me a cup of tea while he has a beer in his hands, see, he doesn’t even realise that he is sweet to the core. Underneath all those muscles and that hard man exterior that he shows to everyone else, he knows I can’t drink while breastfeeding and he makes sure I have something I can drink. Taking a small sip, I notice that he has even made me decaf. Now I just have to avoid temptation while we try to talk, looking at him now that is not going to be an easy fate. He looks divine now he is sat at the side of me, on the one leather sofa that is in the living room. I can make out his aftershave and the pure scent that is Malc and it is sending heat straight between my legs. No, I can’t, I have to pull myself together so that we can talk. I need to clear my head of all the delicious things I want to do to him right here on this couch. I want to wrap myself around him and never let go.

“Thank you for bringing me here, Malc. I was sinking being in that house,” I say to him, trying to keep the desire out of my voice. I want him to see that however much temptation is in front of me I can control myself. Easier said than done but he at least deserves for me to try.

“I want you here with me, you know this. I don’t see what else I can say, Camilla. You need to be all in with me and you can’t keep things from me. If you’re sinking, you have to tell me so I can help. I just want my family here with me.” His words are already bringing tears to my eyes, I know he is right but it’s hard for me to do. Everything is a reminder: the house, Faith, even Malc. I can’t help the fear that courses through my body when the guilt threatens to consume me, the self-loathing, it’s all a reminder that he got to me, that anyone can get to me. A reminder that I am weak and helpless.

“I will try, Malc, I want nothing more than to try with you, but it is hard for me, you have to see that. Every scar on my body that was caused by him is a reminder that I am ruined for anyone else, that no one wants me.” I have just about finished when Malc’s voice booms at me.              

“I want you and I have always wanted you. How many times do I have to tell you that your scars, I don’t see them as a failure, I see them as strength, the strength it took you to survive, so you could make your way back to me, Camilla? I told you the day you took Charlie that you are it for me; never will there be anyone else. In the four months that you were not here, not once did I stray. I stayed loyal to you, my wife, who I love more than life itself. I would die for you, Camilla.” This is just going to end up going back and forth; I don’t think I have the strength for this.

“You might see it that way but I can’t, Malc. When I start to feel that way, or try to block it out, that’s when I have to use my coping mechanism. All I want to do is forget but I can’t, it’s right here, always at the forefront of my mind. The pain I feel every time I use you cripples me, but at the time I can’t see it. I get so lost in wanting to try anything to numb the pain, until it’s too late to stop and then I see that dejected look on your face and it breaks me all over again knowing what I have done to you. You deserve more, maybe I’m just not the one who gets to give it to you.” I pour my heart out to him, letting him into all of my fears. He is such a big fear to me. If I stay and fight and love him the way he needs to be loved, deserves to be loved, I will lose him. It’s the fear that I won’t be enough to keep him.