His doll (You play, I play)

Chapter twenty five

I hate her. I hate Amalie Rose Walker for creeping back into my life, for changing my routine and leaving me with a mess.

Most of all, I hate that even when I'm angry, when I'm betrayed – I still can't get the look on her eyes out of my head, the sadness of seeing me with another girl. Was it real? Or is she just one fucking good actress? I mean she had me fooled for the longest time. I feel so fucking stupid every time the words on her phone play through my head. Every time her confession repeats like a never-ending tune.

"I didn't know you were going to come here, we thought you were going to be at one of your hotels, it was just pure luck."

Pure luck. Me falling into her arms was pure luck. She tricked me. She fooled me. She used me.

I stand up from my bed and go straight to my shower, hoping that it'll wash her away. I can still fucking smell her on me, and the warmth of her touch is still lingering.
I opened up, I told her something I've never told anyone before. Not even Xander. I showed her a vulnerable side of me, the overly confident Bruno Rodriguez – how can you love someone when you don't love yourself.

She let me talk, she pretended to listen. Was it all just a part of her game? Find the weaknesses? Pretend to soothe them and use them against me?
"You're the most loveable person I know." Liar. Such a fucking liar.

Two years ago she left me, and I blamed myself for pushing her away. It was on me, although a small part of me wanted her to fight, the bigger part was relieved when she left. Things have been easy since then, because we hadn't broken down any walls yet. Then she came back, she landed straight into my arms, and I thought it was destiny, what a fucking joke. I thought that the world was trying to tell me to give it a chance, maybe it'll be different. Worth it.

Instead, the world was telling me to go fuck myself.

I finish my shower and head back to my room, Barszik is sleeping on the bed so I change and walk out without making a noise. I walk down to the mini bar and pour myself a glass of whiskey. Then another one. And another one.
I laugh, its humorless. I remember how the weeks spent with her were the ones I drank the least, and now these two past weeks I've drank more than someone would do in an entire year.

I lean my head back, and let the alcohol relax me. It doesn't last for long because soon enough my door opens, and two annoying fucks are walking inside like they own the place.
"Go away." I mutter, they don't listen, instead they just take a seat in front of me, "You either drink or you leave."

Pablo doesn't move, Luca goes and pours himself a drink though. Then he comes back and takes a seat next to me, but doesn't say anything.
"We're leaving to Mexico in a week, we've pushed it off long enough. Get your act together man." Pablo says, and I roll my eyes.
"This is the reason people like Luca more." I mutter, earning a high-five from Luca.
"No one likes Luca more, don't lie."
"Hey!" Luca throws his hat at Pablo. He's right though, most people prefer Pablo because he's nicer, he doesn't need to know that though.

I scoff, taking another sip of my drink and trying to ignore their presence.
"You know," Pablo says, ruining my zen. "I'd almost say based on your act that you're heartbroken."
I laugh, he must be fucking joking. "Then that fiancé of yours must've hit you too hard once or twice."
"My man." Luca says, giving me an approving nudge. "I knew you weren't down bad for no bitch."

Pablo pulls out a cigar and starts smoking. Luca turns around and looks at me,
"You up for clubbing? I'll even let you have dibs on the girls this time." He says trying to get me in a better mood. I hate that they're treating me like this, I'm not fucking heartbroken I wasn't in love with her – but I could have been, because I let myself get vulnerable and I let my mind trail off and imagine something that would never happen. And it fucked me over, so much that I can't get her out of my damn mind.