His Lethal Love

Present.

Scott POV.

"Fuck!" I roared, throwing my crutches across the room before collapsing onto the sofa. My pulse was pulsating due to hot anger. Camille Davidson pissed me off. She had me wrapped around her little finger. It never occurred to me I would be fighting for that woman. It was she who destroyed my world eight years ago. It would be impossible for my heart to understand that. It would chase her until my last breath.

I hated her.

But I loved her more.

My love for her scared me to death.

A sigh of exhaustion escaped my lips as I ran my finger through my hair. I couldn't erase Camille's images with Conan. That day, she looked so cozy. Their matching black dresses and midnight dates on the beach. It made me resent Conan for making her so happy. Basically, he was offering her everything I hadn't given her before. I even noticed the way Conan was staring at Camille when we were having dinner. She smiled at his dirty and stupid jokes. There was no ethics in that man's behavior. Even if he spoke shit, she would still be appreciating him.

My phone rang out, pulling me out of my thoughts. I almost groaned in frustration when Maura's name appeared on the screen. Swiping the green button, I pressed the phone against my ear, listening to her annoying voice. "Hey, there..." she chirped out. "What's up?"

"All good here. What about you?" I asked boringly.

"I have just come from shooting."

"Are you enjoying it there?"

"Umm... not much without you. I wish you could be here so that we could have a romantic dinner in front of the Eiffel Tower. Do you know how lonely I am feeling right now?"

"So am I?" I muttered and glanced at the door. I wished Camille would be sitting next to me and leaning her head against my chest while I was stroking her silky hair. It could be possible only in my fucking dreams.

"Scott..." Maura whispered. "Can't you come over here? I'm missing you so much. I'm having second thoughts about canceling all my sponsorship and shootings and flying back to America. Additionally, I also hate the weather in Europe. I'm having a fever for the second time in a week."

"How are you feeling now?" I asked with concern. "Have you taken medicine?"

"Yeah," she mumbled.

Maura Garcia, my childhood friend. My fiancée. My wife-to-be. I couldn't believe I would soon be getting married to her and spending the rest of my life with her. I knew I was marrying her out of pity, not out of love. I had promised my dad that I would marry Maura, no matter what. He always wanted Maura to be his daughter-in-law. It was his last wish which I had to fulfill. Even though I wanted to cancel that wedding, I could not.

Even if I had never loved her. How could I when my heart was stolen by Camille Davidson? I and Maura had a special bond, but it was not as strong as Camille's. Maura loved me, but I never brought myself to love her back. How could you fall in love when you were already in love?

I want Camille, but it will never happen. We cannot be us.

"Scott?" Maura called out when I didn't reply to her for a minute.

"Yes, what were you saying?"

"Were you not listening to me?" she said in annoyance.

"I'm sorry... I just got lost in thoughts." I rubbed my temples, trying to massage away the headache.

"What were you thinking?" she asked curiously as if she sensed what I was thinking about Camille.

"I was thinking about you," I half lied. "You can return on the next flight if you don't feel comfortable there. I don't want you to fall ill repeatedly because of your stupid shootings." Whatever I said to Maura was my genuine concern. I truly cared about her. Besides love, I could give her whatever she wanted. Maura also earned a good income, but all her money was devoted to cosmetic surgery and traveling. Whatever properties she had owned were gifted by me. Expensive gifts and diamonds made her happy. It was not like she was looking for love.

"No, I can't come," Maura exclaimed. "I will lose a million dollars if I cancel all my plans."

That's how she measures love. She measured love in dollars. The more dollars, the more love. The fewer dollars, the less love.

"Well, as you wish."

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"Okay, I gotta go. I'll talk to you later. Love you. Bye, baby." And she hung up without even waiting for my reply.

I sighed heavily and placed the phone back on the table and leaned against the couch, thinking about Camille. What would I be doing if Camille started her new life with Conan? A pang of jealousy hit my chest. Remembering them together. Camille may not be able to see my emotions, but I was feeling everything. Love, hurt, and jealousy. If she knew how her small tears and her small smile affected me. These past months were pure torture for me.

I hurt her.

So did she.

"How did you get it?" I bolted upright when Camille shouted. "Oh my god, Archie!"

Reaching out for my crutches, I rose to my feet and walked out of the room. My brows snapped together when I saw Camille sitting next to Archie, cleaning his wound.

"Is it hurting you?" Camille looked at Archie with concerned eyes.

"No," Archie said with a smile.

That stupid bastard. He had played a great role in tearing me away from her. He introduced Camille to Conan. Since that day, they started to date each other. I had other plans for Archie Garcia. I would give him a good lesson. He hadn't realized yet whom he was messing with.

I walked over to them and asked, "What happened to your hand?"

"I was demonstrating a stunt to the male lead, and this happened."

"Obviously, you're not professional." I scoffed and grabbed a can of beer before taking a swig.

My eyes moved to Cam, who was dressing his wound like a professional doctor. Her glasses set on her nose as she sucked in a sharp breath at the pain Archie was feeling. Sometimes I could not believe she had just killed my brother in front of my eyes. No matter how many times I tried to erase those pictures, I could not. I could not wipe the images of my screaming brother, his ripped heart, the blood on the floor, and Camille's violent expression. She looked deadly that day. That version of her put me in such a state that I could not speak for a few minutes.

Once Camille was done, she stood up and put the first aid kit in the kitchen, and headed to her room.

"Ouch! Did she just ignore Scott Martinez?" Archie smirked.

My jaw flexed. Without speaking, I disappeared into my room. Damn! I should have apologized for my behavior at dinnertime, but it was not my fault. Why would I say sorry when it was that fucker's fault? He was the one who was talking dirty about Camille. I would kill him one day even if I had to be sent to jail. I wouldn't leave him alone as he was brainwashing Camille.

After taking off my T-shirt, I lay on the bed. It was more difficult to fall asleep knowing Camille was alone on the bed a few feet away from my room. I wished she could let me sleep next to her, allowing me to take care of her for a few days. I loved listening to her breathing. I loved her smell. I loved when she curled like a cocoon. I still remember when she slept next to me.

My eyelids were heavy, and I was about to fall asleep when I heard a faint groan. I quickly got off the bed and walked out of the room, heading straight to Camille's room. I froze the moment I heard her weep. Without a second thought, I dashed into the room and found her on the bed.

"Cam," I called out and approached her. Her eyes were still closed and fine lines appeared on her temples. Sweat gathered on her forehead and neck. She was gripping the sheet tightly, moaning as if she was in pain.

"Cam." I removed her sweaty hair from her face and looked at her face. "Cam, open your eyes." I patted her cheek softly.

"No!" she cried out agonizingly. Her eyes flew open and landed on me. She was staring at me as if I was her offender. I hated seeing that look in her eyes.

"Are you alright?" I asked quietly.

It took her a while to find her voice. "Yeah." she sat down, looking somewhat embarrassed. "Did I disturb you?"

"Did I say that?" I frowned.

"No, I thought..."

"What was that?"

She met my eyes, and there was fear in there. She looked even more beautiful without her glasses. Her emerald eyes were large and graced with thick eyelashes.

"I was dreaming about my mother. She was cutting her wrist in front of my eye..." Without finishing, she covered her mouth with her hand and burst into tears. "I was missing her."

My heart sank when she said that. I quickly wrapped my arms around her small body and pulled her into my chest. She cried harder. "Why did she have to do that, Scott? Why did she leave me all of a sudden?" She buried her face in my chest. I said nothing, allowing her to weep for a while. It might lift some weight from her chest. Somewhere, she blamed herself for the tragedy that happened to her mother.