Chapter 52 Fifty two

Chapter 52 Fifty two
‎Isolde
‎
‎Zander’s words hit me like a slap.
‎“You know,” I whispered, the admission slipping out before I could stop it.
‎He stood so close I could feel the heat rolling off his body. His grey eyes were dark, filled with a mixture of rage, hurt, and something that looked dangerously like hunger. The same hunger I had seen this morning when he had me pinned against his wall and fucked me until I couldn’t think straight.
‎“Yes,” he said, voice low and rough. “I know you’re the same girl I rejected that night and… and you’ve been letting me fuck you like none of it ever happened.”
‎My heart slammed against my ribs so hard it hurt.
‎He knew.
‎Zander’s words hung between us like a blade pressed to my throat.
‎“So tell me, Isolde,” he said, voice low and rough, using the name that felt both foreign and painfully right on his tongue. “What happens now? Do we keep pretending? Or do we burn everything down together?”
‎I stared up at him, heart hammering so hard it hurt. His body was now pressed against mine, one hand braced on the wall beside my head, the other gripping my hip like he couldn’t decide whether to pull me closer or push me away. His grey eyes burned with anger, hurt, and that same raw hunger I had seen this morning
‎I swallowed hard.
‎“I don’t know,” I whispered.
‎That was the truth. The only truth I had left.
‎Zander’s laugh was bitter, broken. “You don’t know? After everything? You let me come inside you, then walk out of my place bleeding from fighting Celeste… and now you don’t know?”
‎He pushed off the wall and stepped back, dragging both hands through his hair. The movement made his shirt pull tight across his chest, and I hated how my body still reacted to the sight of him.
‎“I know who you are now,” he continued, just tell me, Iris or Isolde, or whoever the hell you really are was any of it real? Or was every moan, every time you came on my cock, just part of your revenge?”
‎The words cut deep.
‎I felt tears prick at the corners of my eyes, but I refused to let them fall.
‎“It was real,” I said, voice shaking. “This morning was real. The way I felt when you were inside me that was real. I hated you for what you did to me that night, Zander. I still hate you for it. But the moment you touch me… the moment you look at me like I’m the only thing that matters… I forget why I’m supposed to hate you.”
‎He laughed again, sharp and angry. “Convenient. So convenient. You come back to destroy me and somehow you end up begging me to fuck you instead?”
‎“I didn’t plan that!” I shouted, stepping forward. “I went to your penthouse because I was angry and overwhelmed and I needed… I needed something. I needed you and yes, part of me wanted to hurt you the way you hurt me. But when you touched me, when you were inside me, none of that mattered. It felt right. It felt like...”
‎“Like what?” he snapped. “Like fate? Like some twisted mate bond? Don’t give me that bullshit. You prepared for this. You came back with a new name and a new scent for one reason... revenge. My father told me everything. You’ve been playing me from the first second you walked into that charity dinner.”
‎I felt the words like a slap.
‎“Your father,” I said, voice rising. “Of course he told you. He’s the one who ordered you to destroy me that night. He’s the one who stood behind you and fed you every cruel word and now he’s telling you I’m the villain? That’s rich.”
‎Zander’s eyes flashed with fury. “Don’t you dare talk about him like that. He protected me. He protected this family. You came back to tear it apart.”
‎“I came back because you broke me!” I screamed. The words tore out of me, raw and ugly. “You stood in that hall and called me disgusting. You made me kneel while the whole pack watched and laughed. You walked away like I was nothing and I had to live with that every single day. So yes, I came back to make you pay. But I didn’t plan on wanting you this badly. I didn’t plan on feeling anything when you touched me. That part wasn’t part of the plan, Zander. That part is killing me.”
‎He stared at me, chest heaving.
‎For a moment I thought he might soften. That he might pull me into his arms and tell me we could figure this out.
‎Instead his face hardened.
‎“So what now?” he asked, voice cold. “You expect me to forgive you? To choose you over my family, over Celeste, over everything I’ve been raised to be? Just because you got wet for me this morning?”
‎The words stung worse than any claw mark from Celeste.
‎“No,” I said quietly. “I don’t expect anything from you. I just… I don’t know how to stop wanting you. Even after everything. Even knowing I should hate you.”
‎Zander’s jaw clenched so tight I heard his teeth grind.
‎“You’re unbelievable,” he said. “You come back for revenge, fuck me like your life depends on it, and now you want me to believe you’re conflicted? That you actually care?”
‎“I do care!” I shouted, tears finally spilling over. “That’s the problem! I hate what you did to me. I hate your father. I hate this whole world you live in. But I can’t stop wanting you. I can’t stop remembering how it felt when you were inside me. I can’t stop...”
‎“Stop,” he cut me off, voice breaking. “Just stop.”
‎He backed away from me, eyes wild.
‎“I can’t do this,” he said. “I can’t stand here and listen to you tell me you want me while you admit you came back to destroy me. I can’t.”
‎He turned toward the door.
‎“Zander, wait...”
‎“No.” He yanked the door open, shoulders rigid. “I need to think. I need to figure out what the hell is real and what’s just another move in your game.”
‎He looked back at me one last time, eyes filled with pain and anger and something that looked a lot like heartbreak.
‎“You got what you wanted,” he said quietly. “You made me want you. You made me doubt everything. Congratulations.”
‎Then he walked out.
‎The door slammed behind him so hard the walls shook.
‎I stood there alone in the hotel room, tears streaming down my face, the torn dress still hanging off my shoulders.
‎Guilt crashed over me in waves.
‎What have I done?
‎I had wanted revenge. I had wanted to make him pay for that night. For the words he had spoken and the way he had walked away while I stayed on my knees.
‎But now, standing here with his scent still on my skin and his cum still drying on my thighs, I didn’t feel victorious.
‎I felt empty.
‎I had pushed him away. I had let the truth come out in the worst possible way and now he was gone, storming off with anger and doubt and pain in his eyes.
‎Part of me wanted to run after him. To tell him I was sorry. To tell him that the way I felt when he touched me was real the most real thing I had felt in years.
‎But the other part... the part that remembered that cold marble floor and his cruel voice and the applause whispered that this was exactly what I had come for.
‎I sank down onto the bed, burying my face in my hands.
‎He disdained me first. He called me disgusting. He made me nothing.
‎So why
does it feel like I’m the one who just destroyed us both?