Page 26 of Forgive Me, Father (Don #1)

TWENTY-THREE

THE WHITE RABBIT

I finally explained to Camilla who Sarah was.

“You’re fucking kidding me?” she said, eyes wide with disbelief.

“Nope. I’m a mess, if you haven’t figured that out by now.”

She shook her head. “Yeah, I think you should stop talking before I hear something I really can’t unhear.”

“What? I’m trying to explain,” I said, exasperated.

“What, that you have a mistress who allows you to cut and tie her up during sex and who knows what else, just to have a fucking normal relationship with me? That is what you want to tell your wife?”

I sighed. “It’s not as bad as you’re making it out to be.”

She let out a dry laugh. “Oh? Which part, darling?”

I stared at her, feeling the weight behind her sarcasm.

I understood, she was hurt because I lied.

How the fuck was I going to tell her that my sexual preference was leaning to a more sadistic side.

That I needed to calm whatever demons were inside of me, so I didn’t end up playing my sick, sadistic games with her in bed.

The words sounded wrong even as I heard them in my own head.

She huffed in frustration, hurled herself off the bed, and stormed out. A moment later, I heard the click of a door locking down the hall.

This was a mess, one I hadn’t meant to create, but one Simi had lit the match for. I just wanted it to be over.

The dominant side of me took over. I threw the covers off and got out of bed, striding to the room she’d locked herself in. The door was shut tight.

“Open up before I break this door down,” I said, voice firm and low.

“I’m okay. It’s all good,” came her muffled reply, too light, too fake.

“Stop fucking saying that. Open this fucking door.”

“Go to sleep, Alfonso.”

I let out a dry laugh and dragged a hand through my hair, the frustration simmering just beneath the surface. Whatever, darling.

Without hesitation, I slammed my shoulder into the door, it gave way with a loud crack.

She cursed from the bed, turning away from me. “Please, can you just let me be?”

“No,” I said firmly, crossing the room in two strides. I climbed onto the bed, positioning myself above her, refusing to let her shut me out.

“I don’t care,” she muttered, her voice cracking. “You can have your mistresses, cut them up. I don’t care.”

I grabbed her wrists and pushed them above her head. “Stop saying that you don’t care. I know you do. Because I do care about you. More than I fucking should.”

“You can do whatever you want.” She closed her eyes and a single tear slid along her cheek.

My fucking dead heart cracked wide open. The last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt her.

“Stop saying that!” I shouted, my voice raw with frustration.

The urge to shake her, to pull her out of this wall she’d built around herself, surged through every inch of me.

“I’m trying to be real with you, to show you who I really am, and all you do is throw it back in my face, saying you don’t care! ”

She fell silent, her lips pressed tight, and I could feel the distance growing between us with every second she stayed quiet.

“I’m a fucking mess, Camilla,” I said, my voice strained.

“I didn’t ask to be this way, to be this sick fuck, to be different.

I never wanted this. But you must understand that being first in line comes with its own weight.

The responsibility of ruling it all one day.

I need the dungeon. It’s my outlet. I know you don’t understand that right now. ”

She swallowed hard.

“I should have told you. I should’ve been honest where I was but how do I even begin telling you something like that?

Tell me how and I will say I’m fucking sorry.

I wish I were different. I didn’t think that I would feel this way about you.

I’m sorry.” Tears welled up in my eyes. It blurred her face from me.

“Hurting you was the last thing I wanted to do. You wouldn’t have understood this. ”

“How does Simi know?”

“My mother told her.”

“What?”

“I told you, it’s messed up.”

“Your mother knows about this?”

I nodded. “She knew about this and they groomed Simi for my needs. To look the other way.”

“That is what you want from me? To look the other way.” Tears choked her voice, and I couldn’t stand it.

I hated this. I hated who I was. The demon inside of me clawed at my insides, demanding to be fed. And I would be a bigger mess if I didn’t give in. I could never explain it, never fully understand it. Some called me a sociopath, but that label didn’t fit.

I wasn’t a psychopath either. But damn it, I was sadistic. And no matter how much I loathed myself for it, it was a part of me that wouldn’t let go.

“I can’t be normal without it. I wish I could, but it doesn’t work like that.”

She sniffed and her lower lip trembled.

I lowered my head to hers, my voice low and raw.

"If I could stop, I would. I’d stop for you.

" My lips brushed her forehead, and I inhaled deeply, trying to hold on to the moment before it shattered.

I wiped away my own tears as I climbed off her, off the bed.

I turned to leave, my heart breaking with every step.

Her soft cries echoed through the silence, stabbing deep into me.

I didn’t love any of the women I’d done this to. But I did need them to have a normal functioning relationship with someone like Camilla.

I tossed and turned that night, the weight of my thoughts pressing down harder than I ever expected. Maybe I should’ve married Simi. We didn’t love each other, and my life would’ve been simpler. No, not simpler, easier.

Camilla made it better. She made me want to be better.

I got out of bed and crossed the passage down to the bar to pour myself a whiskey, the amber liquid catching the light.

Sliding open the balcony door, I stepped out as a cool, humid breeze swept through, threading its way into my hair and across my skin.

I sat back in the deck chair, a glass of whiskey in hand, watching the waves roll gently beneath the soft glow of dawn.

The warmth of the drink did nothing to soothe the cold in my chest. I didn’t know if my wife would ever let me touch her again, let alone forgive me for everything I’d put her through.

I closed my eyes, letting the soft morning rays kiss my skin, wishing for the impossible: to stop hurting the people I cared about, to be someone who didn’t break everything in his path. I wanted to be normal. And yet, in that moment, I knew I never would be.

I felt a presence, probably Nico, and pulled myself back to reality.

I froze when I found Camilla. She sat there, wrapped in a blanket, her posture still and composed as if she were painting.

Her presence was a quiet storm, a force that pulled at every part of me.

The contrast between her fragile appearance and the fierce energy beneath the surface was something I couldn’t ignore.

The softness of the blanket only emphasized the tension in her shoulders, the distance in her eyes as they met mine without warmth.

She had been right yesterday when she said her mother had trained her well. I could feel the weight of that truth now, heavy between us. I knew exactly what she would say, how she would turn away, how she would bury the hurt beneath the surface, all because of our arrangement.

But deep down, I felt the brutal reality settle in. I had lost her.

Our bond, whatever it had been, was shattered beyond repair. The truth gnawed at me, sharp and unforgiving: I would never get her back. Our relationship, what we had, what we could have had, was gone, and there was no coming back from that.

And that fucking killed me.

“I get it,” she said.

“No, you don’t.”

“I told you my mother groomed me well.” She swallowed hard. I knew she didn’t want to look the other way. Because I wouldn’t. I knew whatever we felt was real. It was passionate, but it wouldn’t be for long. My demons were going to pull us apart.

“What do you need from me inside the dungeon?”

THE LITTLE RUNAWAY

All the color drained from Alfonso’s face, leaving him as pale as a ghost. He looked almost fragile.

“Excuse me?” he finally managed to ask, his voice laced with confusion.

I softened my tone, but the question still lingered in the air, heavy and undeniable. “What do you need from me inside the dungeon?”

He shook his head, as if trying to find some kind of clarity. “I don’t think you understand, Camilla.” His words trailed off, and I could feel the tension building between us, thick and suffocating.

“What? You fucking kill them, Alfonso?”

“No, fuck.”

“Then why can’t you use me?”

“Because it’s sadistic shit. It’s extreme, it’s a bloody mess sometimes. It would break us apart, not put us back together.”

I swallowed hard.

“I will not break you like that,” he spoke softly.

“I won’t look the other way, either,” I said, my voice steady, but carrying a weight that hung in the air between us. “So, we both have a problem. And we need to find a solution.”

He looked at me, his face a mask of pure distress, as if the walls around him were closing in. The turmoil in his eyes was unmistakable, a mix of frustration and helplessness.

“I’m willing to try; introduce me to it, and I’ll tell you when I can’t do this.”

“Camilla.” His voice was merely a whisper as I tried to get up and go to my room. I felt sick just thinking about half the shit he told me yesterday that happened in his dungeon, in all the similar fuck houses across the world.

“It’s okay. You didn’t ask for this.” I bent down and kissed him on top of his head.

Last night, when he pinned me to the bed and told me in detail about his need, it broke me. Not because I knew he wasn’t a saint, but because I knew he had demons that needed a different type of outlet. I thought that I was enough.

I decided to give him the space to process everything I’d just laid out for him. Hopefully, by tonight, he would have a clearer answer, something concrete to guide us forward.

I tried to sleep, to relax to not think. But I failed.

I tried to imagine what ways Alfonso would use to hurt me sexually, and feared if I would be able to handle it

But if it was what Alfonso needed, I would try. It was one thing my mother made sure I knew how to do: fulfill my duties. It was in his contract, too.

I guess time was the only thing I could give him now until he was ready to give me his answer.