THE ALGORITHM OF THE FORBIDDEN HEART

Chapitre 16

She approached. She slid off the desk, advancing toward my table slowly, methodically. My body tensed, recognizing the predatory movement.

When she was a few centimeters from me, she paused.

She didn't need to look at me. She didn't need to speak.

She smelled the cigarette.

Her expression shifted from coldness to intense, sudden fury. That's what made her angry right away.

A contained hiss of rage "A cigarette. You dared to smoke? After everything you've done to yourself, after spending two years fighting destruction, you're putting that poison in your lungs again? And you dare tell me you were disrespectful because of low blood sugar? You've relapsed into self-destruction, Carla. And you lied to me straight to my face."

She slammed her hands on the table, making it vibrate. The prohibition was broken. The anger was pure.

"Why did you do that? Are you trying to prove to me that you can't be saved?"

Donatella's anger, amplified by the smell of the cigarette, was palpable. She had slammed the table, demanding the truth.

"No," I said, my voice trembling. "I don't know. It's a habit, that's all! I was stressed."

She got even angrier.

"No! Stop lying to me! A cigarette is not a 'habit' for you, it's self-punishment! You felt weak after Mercier's humiliation and you returned to your only defense mechanism: hurting yourself! Say it to me!"

I felt the tension rising in the room. It was so dense I could cut it with a knife.

She was pushing me to tell the truth about my act, and the truth about what I felt – the mix of fear and attraction that made me commit this mistake. I held firm; I wouldn't give in. I wouldn't give her that satisfaction.

Then, she made one gesture too many.

Then she slapped her hands against the blackboard, the dry sound echoing like a gunshot in the empty room.

That was impossible. The sonic impact, the violence of the gesture, even if it wasn't directed at me, activated the reflex. I closed my eyes, feeling my fear paralysis take over. My body froze.

I let one tear fall, no more. It was a tear of rage and defeat, not a tear of supplication.

I couldn't stay there anymore.

I violently pushed the chair back and stood up to leave.

I told her: "I'm going home tonight. I can't do this."

She told me: "You wouldn't dare? Are you going to let that fear make you destroy everything we've built?"

I looked at her and said: "Oh yes. Watch me."

I rushed toward the door.

Before I could leave, she blocked the door with her hand, her arm outstretched, preventing me from turning the key.

She pressed me against the door, using her body to trap me. Her face was a few centimeters from mine. I could smell her coffee, her perfume, mixed with the rage.

I felt her anger and her desire in her. It was a toxic and intoxicating mix.

A gasping whisper "You are not going anywhere, Mio Angelo. Not until you tell me why you wanted to escape. Why you fight against what is good for you. Speak."

I was cornered against the door, Donatella's body holding me. Her face was so close I could feel the warm air she exhaled. Her gaze, a mixture of fury and attraction, tore at me.