I hear the door opening but I don't look up. His breath catches sharply in his throat when he sees me sitting on the couch in the dark. And mine seems to seep through my parted lips like a whispered prayer.

One set of footsteps. Steady footsteps. Strong and heavy. Not drunken. Not erratic.

Thank God he came back alone. I don't what I would have done had he brought her home.

I've been sitting here since he disappeared through that same door with her eight hours ago. Thinking, brooding, formulating a plan. You'd think I'd be more prepared.

He flicks on the lights, drops his keys on the glass side table and I hear the ruffle of the satin underlining of his expensive suit as he removes his blazer and walks towards the kitchen.

"How could you?" I croak as I feel him slow down behind me.

He stops completely and sighs. I know he hears the grief in my voice and I don't even care anymore. He needs to know. He has to know how hurt I am.

I stare at the shaggy carpet beneath my bare feet and dig my bare toes into the fabric until they're white.

"I can live with the drinking, the girls, the cold shoulder... I know you're only doing it to keep me out. I can... We can work through that. But what you did today was just... hurtful, Jer."

"Ally," he starts, but then he chokes up and stops.

A savage vindictiveness comes over me. I stand to face him, angry, ready to vomit every bit of the pain and disgust and the anger tossing inside me. But his eyes are lowered. His jaw is clenched tight, mouth set in a thin, straight line, hands in the pockets of his Gucci trousers, his blazer hanging limply across his forearm. And I swallow it all back, knowing it's bloody pointless.

I embrace the hollowness inside me and meet him in front of the kitchen island, dropping an envelope on the surface. It's worn and stained with tears, telling him all he needs to know about how he just made me feel.

"There's your rent money." My voice comes out just as dull as I feel. "I booked a couple of viewings for tomorrow. I'll be out of your life soon enough."

The colour drains from his cheeks as his eyes dart frantically from the envelope to my face.

"What?" he asks, unable to keep the urgency out of his voice. "No. I don't want you to go."

He takes a hesitant step towards me but stops when I take a step back. The thought of him touching me, knowing he's just touched her makes me sick and I actually press on my stomach as it clenches painfully.

"It doesn't feel like it," I spit back.

My brain is screaming to go back to my room, to make this as clean and easy as possible before I make it worse. But how can it be worse?

How the fuck can it be any worse?

"You can have any woman you want! You made that very clear over the past few weeks. Why her? Why would you rub her in my face?"

"Nothing happened-" he starts.

"I don't care!" I yell. "I don't give a shit! It hurts, Jeremy! It physically hurts! Just the thought of you and her together makes me want to throw up. I... I... God! I just can't get the image of you two leaving together out of my head. Finding out about her and Keith was nothing compared to this," I tell him, surprising myself with the truth of that statement. "What do you want? To break me? Well, congratulations! You've done it. I'm done."

He takes another step towards me but I recoil away from him again, crossing my arms protectively over my chest. He stops, his hard eyes softening with the pain this causes him. I feel the stone-cold satisfaction at knowing that I'm capable of hurting him too.

I can't pretend his behaviour is not affecting me anymore. He needs to make a choice. He's either in my life or out of it. No more halfway shit. If he can't make up his mind, then I'll make it up for him.

"The last thing I want is to hurt you, Ally, I... Shit." He sets his blazer on the back of the sofa, rubs the bridge of his nose and brings his palm down over his face. "Please, try to understand..."

"I can't," I reply, disappointed yet not surprised when he doesn't go on. "I'm trying, but you won't let me. You've shut me out completely. This morning was the first time you actually talked to me since I've been here. I know you were completely out of it, and maybe that's why you slipped up. But I thought we still had a chance to fix this. And now you go and do this! You knew this would be it. So stop staying you don't want to hurt me. Not when you keep doing things you know will kill me."

"You've got this all wrong, okay? There are things you don't know-"

"Then tell me!" I beg, tears of frustration forming in my eyes. "I am so tired of this! I'm always at arm's length from you. Right where you want me to be. You push me away when I get too close and pull me back in when I'm out of reach. Why are you doing this? This isn't you!"

"Yes, it is. It's exactly who I am, actually."

"No, it's not. You're just a guy who fucked up. Just like everyone else in this world."

Hot anger flashes in his eyes, letting me know I've stuck a nerve.

"Everyone else?" he counters raising his voice to match mine. "Do you know a lot of men who knock girls up then force them to have an abortion?"

"You didn't force her! You gave her the money and you fixed the appointment but she accepted it. She went through with it."

"She was young and pregnant and desperate for a way out," he splutters.

"So were you!"

"Oh, right! So that makes it okay? Should I just shrug it off and let it go?"

"Of course, it's not okay! It is so not okay, Jeremy, but you're not solving anything by doing this," I challenge, waving my arms at him. "You're just... self-destructing! You need to get out of this... this vicious cycle you got yourself into, with the women and the drinking and your dad... It's not getting you anywhere."

"I'm sorry I'm disappointing you," he starts in a low growl, finally closing the distance between us, his face livid and looking remarkably like his father's.

"This isn't about me! Don't make it about me!" I interject angrily.

"Of course, it's about you! Everything is about you! God damn it, how do you still not see that? You're all I want! I want to make you happy. I want you to be mine knowing God damn well I don't deserve you. I'm fucking obsessed with you! I have been since the moment I met you. I never so much as glanced at the CCTV screens before you were on them. I never cared about somebody else's dreams, Ally! I never even cared about mine!"

He runs his hands nervously through his hair. He shudders as he draws a ragged breath and releases it slowly. I stare at the man in front of me. The same man who is usually so composed and self-possessed is becoming undone before my very eyes, unravelling bit by bit.

"I told you I am not good for you," he goes on, "and this cycle is the only thing I can do. It's the only thing I know."

Before I know it, his trembling hands are on my face, his blue eyes darting all over me, as though he's afraid that I might disintegrate into thin air. My heart pounds back to life at his touch and it's terrifying, exhilarating and painful, like I'm running flat out on two broken ankles.

"Can't you see it's all I can think of when I'm around you? How much I want you, knowing you deserve someone better? How I'd break the neck of any dickhead who would dare come near you if he's even remotely like me? And in the same breath, I can't bear the thought of someone else having you. I may fight to keep you out but I can't stay away from you. No matter how many distractions I go through, the women, the alcohol, the work, the parties, the miles and miles of running, I can't get you out of my head. It kills me that I have no control over you. And I know how bad that sounds, Ally, but I can't stop. I can't stop! I will hurt you every day, so long as you stay. And I will hound after you the moment you leave. That's how it is. So, if you want to go, go! But I can't promise I will let you."

And there it is. The whole truth of what we are. Two stubborn and damaged souls running circles around each other. Neither of us will stop until we're completely wrecked because I can't stop either. I can't stop wanting him or needing him on every level imaginable. 

What was I thinking? I will never willingly walk away from him.

"You got me, Ally. You win," he whispers in a tone that makes me realise I haven't won shit. On the contrary, I have lost. I lost big time. His grip on my face is hot and intense. "So, what the fuck do you want to do?"

I look into his eyes and see the power he has over me reflected in them so clearly and it's just as scary now as it was when he kissed me. Only now there is no running away from it. Now we're facing it head-on.

This man can make me or break me whenever he wants to. I may mean more to him than the random supermodels he brings home, but at the end of the day, I'm just another puppet in his hands. He holds all my strings. And I hold his.

If he is Angel, I am Tess. If he is Heathcliff, I am Catherine. I will always be his heroine but he's right. Our ending is inevitably a tragic one.

"I should go," I say, surprised at how steady my voice sounds, completely in contrast to how I feel on the inside. "I really, really should go and forget all about you. You're as bad as you say you are. Probably not for the reasons you think, but you are. I know you're not good for me. I'm not good for you either. But the truth is that you staying away from me does not make me feel better. It makes me feel empty and lost. We're already in the fire, Jer. We're either going to burn out or bring the house down."

He looks back at me with a mixture of fear, uncertainty and an unmistakable lust in his eyes and I know he knows I'm right. 

Which brings me back to his question. What the fuck did I want to do?

Every cell in my body tells me I am making a big mistake as I slowly place my hands on his, still hot and trembling over my cheeks, holding my breath so that he doesn't hear how shallow it is. This man has hurt me over and over again. I was done. I was ready to leave, but now I was edging closer. I'm almost surprised and more than relieved when he doesn't fight me. I slide his hands down to my neck and tilt my head slowly until my lips make contact with his.