Not My Brute (Angels of War Series #2)

Chapter Ten

Cameron is asleep when I get in from my night at the pub, my feet sounding like an elephant coming up the stairs. I try my best to be quiet once I get into the bedroom, failing when I fall to the side, one foot in the air, trying to pull off my heeled boot.

"Huh?" Cameron lets out a loud snore, the covers rustling when he shoots up in bed.

I get one boot off, throwing it onto the floor. "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up."

Cameron rubs his eyes, focusing his gaze on the clock on the wall. "What time is it?"

I sigh. "Two, I think."

"Two in the morning and you're just getting home?" I don't appreciate the annoyance in his voice. Is he telling me off?

The other boot slides off my foot and onto the carpet. "Yes, I had fun."

My legs wobble underneath from me when I stumble my way towards the bathroom. I switch on the light and find my way to the mirror, turning on the hot tap and pumping a hefty amount of oil cleanser into my palm.

The floorboards crack when I'm in the middle of sweeping the oil over my face and eyes. My vision clouds over when I open my eyes to see who's standing at the door. I just about make out Cameron rubbing his eyes, but have to close my eyes when the stinging gets worse.

"Are you okay?" Cameron says, pyjama top riding up towards his belly button.

I go back to washing my face, still conscious enough to know that if I don't get all the makeup off my skin, it will be pimple city tomorrow. "I'm fine."

"How much did you drink?"

I sigh. "No clue."

Cameron steps into the room. "Do you need some painkillers?"

The water hits my face, washing away the dirt from the day. "Our relationship is bullshit."

Silence follows.

And it's almost deafening.

"Excuse me?" he asks.

The words push past my lips. "I'm just a convenience to you." Eyes closed, I reach for the towel hanging from the rail. "A glorified babysitter," I clarify.

Cameron steps closer to me. "Where the hell is this coming from, Diana?"

"I'm not happy," I blurt, looking into his confused, clouded gaze. "Our relationship is bullshit."

"News to me," he hisses, closing the bathroom door.

"It's news to you?"

"Yes."

My voice echoes around the room. "Then you're even more of a selfish bastard than I first thought!"

"Keep your voice down," he frowns.

I struggle to breathe, my mind a whirlwind of emotions. "I don't think this is going to work out."

For the first time in our three years of being together, I see the fear in his eyes. "You're drunk. You don't know what you're saying."

I'm not feeling the effects of the Dutch courage anymore. It's all bubbling to the surface, ready to overflow the top. "I'm sober enough to know what I want in life."

I hold my breath in a silent shock, not used to being this honest, realising that Cameron is having none of it as his expression grows from angry to indifferent. "If that's what you want, then go," he explodes when he points to the door.

Look! He's not even willing to fight for you.

I shake my head. "I wouldn't do that to the kids."