“You once asked me if I had ever been so consumed with someone that I would’ve done absolutely anything for them. The answer is yes. Once and only once. I know you think I’m a cruel son-of-a-bitch and I won’t even try to deny it, but I am sorry for what happened. And I am remorseful. But the fact is, you learned a valuable lesson: love is a colossal waste of time and energy. I let my heart and emotions guide my decisions just like you, and all I ended up with was heartbreak. Just like you. I won’t ever, and I mean ever, allow that to happen again and I suggest you do the same.”

He couldn’t face her anymore and turned his chair away, wanting nothing more than to pull himself into a miserable ball of shame at the wounded expression on her face. Before he could escape her gaze, she cut the distance between them with quick, purposeful strides and plopped down into his lap causing a grunt of surprise to choke him. His chair nearly toppled over backwards when she flung her arms around his shoulders and pressed her face against his neck.

She pulled back to whisper against his mouth, “Let it go.”

Her feminine scent and the hurt in her eyes was a devastating combination, and he suddenly felt trapped.

“Get off of me,” he growled and tried to buck her off, but she held on for dear life as if riding a wild bull.

“Let it go, Victor,” she repeated more resolutely than before.

“Goddamn it, let go of me!” he hissed, pushing her body away from his.

With a mixture of tenderness and lethal determination, she latched on tighter and got in his face. “I won’t, you stubborn asshole!” she shook him by the shoulders. “Love isn’t a waste of time, it just hurts like a motherfucker! We’ve all been hurt, but that doesn’t give us the right to crush people’s hearts in return!” When he persisted in pushing her away, she jumped off his lap and darted toward the door, but not before turning to face him one last time. “And you can tell Mr. Black to go straight to hell!”

With his breathing ragged and his heart pounding against his ribcage, he stewed on her statement. She had a set of balls bigger than his own. And the nerve to call him stubborn?

He lost track of time as he stared out the window at the stark white landscape, thinking about what Elsa had just said to him. It had been a miserable week; long, tedious and, ultimately, fruitless and now the weekend was starting off just as shitty.

Sinking back into his chair, he pulled out his work file to get his mind off of her. It was ironic considering he was usually doing the opposite.

An hour later, he pushed the file aside. Whatever the connection the killer had to Anthony, they had covered their tracks well. But the devil was in the details and he just needed to look more closely.

Tired of looking at the same bullshit he had been going over all week, he grabbed his personal journal.

Elsa. The name that will ultimately be my doom. I’ve become beyond obsessed with trying to break her down and figure her out. Why does she insist that I abandon the pretenses that have protected me for so long and show my true self? Why do I cave and give in to her wants?

His eyes flicked back to the monitor and at Elsa’s dutiful pose, then back to his writing.

My infuriating lover truly has no idea how beautiful she is or what she does to me. The devil is in the details and her feminine and submissive façade hides her killer instincts well. How the hell can the woman who follows my rules so flawlessly be the same one who has the audaciousness to tell Mr. Black to go to hell? Perhaps an alter ego name for her would be in order. Ms. White seems appropriate considering her light is so Goddamn bright it’s blinding.

Bright or not, my darkness always seems to outweigh her light, while in contrast, her compassion and obstinacy never fails to prevail over my austerity and detachment. It’s an odd balancing act between the two of us; one that threatens to seesaw out of control at any moment.

Will she never just do as she’s told? Abso-fucking-lutely not. It isn’t in her nature and it’s about damn time I accept that Elsa is never going to be anything but true to herself, no matter what rules I stipulate and threaten her with.

And so long as Mr. Black is in the picture, we will never be at peace with one another.

As much as I need that part of my personality, I often want to tell him to go to hell, too. Christ, I wish it was that easy.

A soft knock on the door brought him out of his misery.

“Enter,” he said loudly as he straightened up and put his journal into his bag.

Peeking around the door, Elsa had a look of repentance mingled with resentment in her eyes. “I’m sorry about what I said and for forcing myself on you, Mr. Black. Am I free to leave?”

“You just got here.”

“I know, but I have things to do.”

Her sudden coldness surprised and irked him. “Things to do or someone to do?”

When she glanced over her shoulder nervously, he stood and gave her a pointed look. "Tell me something: when you leave here, do you go home and make love to him?"

She stared wide-eyed and confused at him for two full seconds. "You mean you really don't know?"

"What’s there to know? I have better things to do than watch you fuck your fiancé."

An undecipherable look flashed across her face. "I should go."

In the blink of an eye, he was on her, pulling her into the room and pushing the door closed behind her. This was his time. Nathan had her all fucking week and now it was his turn to enjoy the pleasure of her company.

***

Taken aback by Victor’s sudden aggression, Elsa pressed her hands against his chest, but his body was immovable.

Squeezing her breast, he dipped his head down and whispered into her ear, "You didn't answer my question."

What the hell was she supposed to tell him? Her mouth parted and she almost confessed, but she held her ground. She wasn’t about to show her cards when she was holding a royal flush. "Because it's another impossible question to answer."

His hand slid underneath her skirt and he palmed her pussy. "Does he satisfy you, Elsa? Can he make you come the way I do?"

Another rhetorical question. No, Nate didn’t satisfy her the way he did. He never could, but it wasn’t Nate’s fault she was so fucked up and needed this thing that Victor gave her. Again, she tried to push him away, but he was inexorable.

"I don't like being the other man,” his expression turned deadly.

"You knew I was engaged. What did you expect?" she shoved with all her power, finally putting distance between them. “For me to drop everything and everyone in my life for you when all you’re going to do is disappear when you’re done with this sick game?”

His mouth twitched. “I’m not the one who walked out.”

When he took a step toward her, panic surged through her and she backed herself up against the door, putting her hands up. "Take it easy, Mr. Black."

The tensed muscles around his face relaxed, but a vein at the base of his throat, pulsed. "You have it all wrong. Mr. Black isn't here. This is all me, Peach. Possessive, obsessive and jealous.” He placed the flat of his hand on the door next to her head with casual ease. “The man who doesn’t like to share and will fiercely protect what’s his.” He leaned down into her space, so close that she could see the fury burning hot and wild inside of him. “The real me."

She faced him with a defiant lift of her chin and reached a hand up to touch the smoothness of his lips, but he stepped out of her reach.

"You want to leave? Go ahead. But not before we do our little dance. You were the one who changed the rules of this game and, by God, you’re going to play by them. After we’ve had our little Q&A session you can go home to your fiancé with my scent all over you and my come still dripping out of your pussy. Let's see if he's man enough to do anything about it. If he's feeling brave, tell him where to find me. I’ll be more than happy to show him who you truly belong to."