Absolute Silence

12

7 CAMILLA Monday, January 27th Me: Do you go to the club during the week or just on weekends? I had no clue when Filip expected to meet up next. It had been a couple of days since our night at the Den, and the uncertainty was making me crazy. He said to reach out if I needed anything, but what did that mean? Text when I had an itch to scratch? I needed a clear plan, an outline for how this was supposed to work. Did we meet once a week? Twice? Every other night? I needed to know what he expected from our arrangement. Filip: I’m busy this week. Okaaaaay. My initial response was annoyance that I was being given the brush-off, but I tried to remember that not everyone was a proficient communicator over text. Maybe he was super busy at the moment and couldn’t give me more of an explanation. I’d give him a chance to clarify. Wednesday, January 29th Two days since my text and no word from Filip. I was a strong, independent woman who had no problem being persistent. I’d allowed ample time for him to communicate before making another attempt myself. I boxed up my insecurities that insisted I was being a harpy and got out my phone. Me: What’s the plan for this week? Thursday, January 30th Filip: Tomorrow. Maybe he paid for texts by the word? What the hell was his problem? Would he have texted at all if I hadn’t reached out? Settle, Cam. He did respond, and now you have a specific date. You can discuss the plan with him in person. I did a bit more grumbling about how I had a life and shouldn’t have to wait around for his inconsiderate ass to make my own plans, then moved on and began to plan my outfit for the following night. Friday, January 31st Filip had specifically instructed me not to go to the club without him, yet he’d failed to tell me when to arrive. It was easy enough to text and ask, but I was starting to resent having to extract information from him. Would it kill him to give me more than the bare minimum? I’d given him my word, and I intended to make a good-faith effort to comply, but he wasn’t making that easy. Me: What time tonight? Filip: Going to have to cancel. Ended up going to the Hamptons for the weekend. Slumping back in my office chair, I dropped my hands into my lap. We’d been scheduled to meet up in a handful of hours. Would he have stood me up if I hadn’t texted? Maybe it wasn’t a big deal to him, but I’d spent all week planning what I would have worn this weekend and imagining how the night would have gone. The highlight of my entire week swirled down the drain with a single impassive text. I was just another canceled appointment to him. Years of doubt and uncertainty were now history, but the enlightenment I was so close to achieving was being held captive by a six-foot brute who wanted to keep me safe in a glass case. He was moderating my time at the Den by denying me access. Despite our agreement, I was back in the same place I’d started. My fingers twitched with the need to lash out. I despised having something I wanted dangled in front of me only to be pulled from my reach by a beautiful bully. You’re jumping to conclusions again. Maybe he truly was busy. Damn voice of reason. That uppity b***h was seriously annoying. While there was a slim chance she was right, I doubted it. Fortunately, the issue was easy enough to resolve. My cousin Maria and her husband Matteo had a house in the Hamptons. When they resided in that home, Filip often accompanied them. I could text her and see what I could learn. Me: You guys in town this weekend or in the Hamptons? Maria: The city. Too boring out there. Why? Me: Just curious. Maria and Matteo were in the city. Filip could have gone to the Hamptons alone, but I doubted it. In theory, his avoidant texts and sudden cancelation of our plans had any number of possible explanations. However, considering the circumstances, Occam’s razor was particularly applicable—the simplest answer was most likely correct. 1. Filip didn’t want me at the club. 2. Filip told me I couldn’t go to the club without him. 3. Filip had hardly texted and now canceled our plans. 4. Filip was keeping me from the club. I had truly tried to give him the benefit of the doubt, but he made that increasingly difficult. He was stalling at the very least, and quite possibly attempting to renege on our deal entirely. White-hot anger clawed its way up my throat and stung the back of my eyes. I will not cry at work. I will not cry at work. I will not cry at work. My boss was impossible in the best of circumstances. I wasn’t going to give him any reason to berate me, but my anger festered deep in my belly. I’d been thinking about my next meeting with Filip all week. The promise of his dark brand of seduction had gotten me through a hellish workweek, and now, my guiding light had been snuffed out. Fine. Two could play at this game.I might have agreed not to go to the Den or any other club, but that didn’t mean I had to sit at home. If he was going to find loopholes in our arrangement, so could I. I refused to be strung along. The club meant more to me than a passing fancy, and if he couldn’t respect that, then f**k him. I pressed the call button and dialed Trent’s extension. His office was only a few doors down, but I didn’t want to risk running into my boss in the hallway. “Yes, ma’am?” Trent was my closest friend at work. I adored him, though we didn’t ordinarily hang out outside of work. That was about to change. “You have plans tonight?” “I do now. Where’re we going?” he asked in a conspiratorial voice. “Somewhere with hot men. Straight, preferably.” “Ugh, you’re no fun,” he groused playfully. “Actually, I know the perfect place that has a decent mix of both. I’ll text you the deets.” “Eight work?” “You on a curfew or something?” I rolled my eyes. “Nine then?” “That’s a little more like it, granny. See you then.” I hadn’t had much luck with random hookups, but a week of fantasizing about the Den had me worked up enough to power an entire city block. I needed an outlet, even if it wasn’t a Filip-grade release. With a new plan in place and a grin on my face, I jumped back into work, hoping the rest of the day would pass quickly. “We have to start the night with a shot,” Trent announced the moment we arrived at our bar table. “Are you trying to get me sick?” I scoffed. “Just one to celebrate our first night out together. What took us so long?” “I don’t know. Guess I’m kind of a hermit.” “That’s a travesty looking the way you do. That top is absolute perfection on you.” I grinned