I have begun to realise this is a major tell for a range of his emotions, usually negative. He does it either when he’s trying to distract himself from something or gets excited in a very happy mood. It’s how he focuses himself to control his outward reactions. Right now, I am guessing he’s trying to control his temper.
‘Maybe I just needed the right lover to show me the good side to it, and I never said I was the one in straps,’ I cattily respond, insides swelling with that sense of satisfaction at ripping at him the way he does me. Venom in every word that I hope makes it all the way to his soul. Poison the fucker.
Guess I am about to find out if he can respect the no punishment boundaries and the fact I never agreed to be his this time. Alexi looks like he might explode, a weird smile that’s not really a smile, and a very intense frown for a second as he grapples to get a hold on his obvious emotions; Losing face under fire and his ability to be Mr Deadpan. It’s wholly wonderful to watch him crumble and struggle to stay in control.
‘Hope he’s a good fuck. You could use one; get rid some of that bitterness you got going on, might put a fucking smile on your face.’ He snaps as he pulls open a drawer in agitation and starts rummaging, eyes on that and not me, and I wonder if it’s a tactic to give himself a task to focus on while he keeps battling his internal demon. Getting under his skin the way he used to get under mine.
I can see why he liked it; the power trip, the upper hand. Knowing you wounded the person in front of you in ways that get to them on every level for your own sick pleasure. I could get used to this when it comes to him.
I instantly break into a huge happy grin and flash it his way, seeing the rage as his eyes get darker as he glances my way and off again—Making him eat his own words.
I wait for the outburst, the jealous psycho act in which he tells me I am his and he will kill anyone who dares to touch what he owns, but it doesn’t come. He can’t seem to look at me and all his smugness and prick fight seems to simmer into silence as he searches for something in the desk and then slams it shut.
He knows I can date whoever I want.
He knows he has no hold over me that way this time as long as I am discreet.
He knows I can walk out the door and never come back.
I have all the upper hand this time, and it only just dawns on me that in this I have left him powerless. His toy isn’t his toy anymore. She’s her own person, and he has to curb all his control freak bully ways because she can just disappear again. And it matters to him this time if she does.
I never thought of that before and wonder if the docile act was him trying to distract me from realising this. Staying on the nicer side so I wouldn’t click over how much of a better standing I have this time when it comes to him. I have grown stronger.
The balance has shifted, tables have turned. He needs me more than I need him.
He knows I will survive on the streets and not look back; I did it my whole life. He has more to gain from me being here. I will only lose money and a roof over my head, but that’s nothing. I have restarted from scratch many times over. Alexi has millions of dollars and a reputation to lose if his club goes under. He hates to fail at anything, so this place dying would be catastrophic to Mr Control freak money maker.
He’s not going to punish me. He’s not going to push the boundaries like he once did and hurt me the same way.
I can’t believe I just figured that all out from one catty argument, and it changes how I see this entirely. That night in the club was his frustration because I rejected him, and he couldn’t do a bloody thing about it. So, in his internal turmoil, he took it out on a bystander. I took his control away, and Alexi needs that more than anything in life to be able to function. It’s all he knows and it’s what he has self-taught to deal with being exposed to his life at such a young age when it spiralled away from him with the pulling of one little trigger.
He’s not been here because he’s sulking, annoyed, probably pissed that he used to be able to have me eating out of the palm of his hand, and now … I won’t even entertain a kiss when drunk.
That must have really smacked him where it hurts—His ego and his pride.
Everything’s changed between us, and I really feel like a huge light just clicked on over my head and illuminated him in all his flawed glory, growing in confidence as we silently share the same room.
‘Is there anything else?’ I break the long silent standoff, waiting patiently for bossy pants to issue me orders. Or some demonic cruel statement to bend me to my knees once more, but he just waves his hand at me. I defeated the monster.
‘I have better things to do. Go away.’ It’s a huffy childish snap of voice.
Alexi is upset. Not in his sinister ‘I’m a mean asshole and you should fear my wrath’, although looking back it’s not his mannerism that’s changed, it’s my perception of it. He’s no longer a threat, and I am no longer afraid of him.
Truly … It’s not an act. I am honestly stood here with no single tiny ounce of fear anymore.
He had Miami to put me in my place and he chose to attack someone else. Whether he cares or not is irrelevant anymore. Alexi has shelved me as untouchable, and he has set himself boundaries I now believe he won’t cross: Ever.
It feels pretty good.