The car park is less stuffy and a welcome break from the club indoors. Even with all its sexy lighting
and modern exterior, it is still a huge black box that has little to no natural daylight inside and the way it
is secured means it doesn’t ever have open windows for fresh air. It relies heavily on electrical lighting
and air-con to keep the flow and temperature.
It doesn’t compare to coming outside to just breathe and feel some real sun on your limbs. Something I
did a lot of when working in the diner, inhaling fried grease all day long.
I perch my butt on a low brick wall that juts out along in front of one the new metal fences. It used to be
the old territory marker for where to park, but is pointless since he turned this into a hemmed in
paddock and acts as a makeshift bench of sorts. Leaning my head back against the fence I slide my
shoes off and stretch out my naked legs to warm in the sun for a while. My dress is knee length and
rides up a little as I sit, so it’s glorious.
Closing my eyes and letting the tightness seep out of my body as heat beats down on me, I jump when
a tiny little mewl noise startles me from my right.
I flinch a second time, heart jumping, when I notice a little ginger, scruffy furball curled aggressively
behind the tyre of the nearest car, glaring at me fiercely. Eyes almost illuminated from his shadowy
vantage point and intensely honed in on me. When I lean down to look more closely it growls at me
angrily in a long, evil and forbidding noise that sends my nerves rattling, and I recoil apprehensively.
He’s a little demonic and wild for my liking.
‘Calm yourself, psycho. I wasn’t planning on touching you.’ I move further along the wall, shifting on my
butt to put distance between us and turn away from the scabby little stray. Picking up my shoes
carefully and sliding them back on my feet while keeping an eye on it, in case it’s in attack mode for
breaching its territory. It makes me nervous with that beady gaze stuck on me relentlessly.
Stray cats are common in New York, especially down the back alleys and where the large dumpsters
sit. This one looks like he has been through the wars and is a little worse for wear, hiding in the
shadows of one of the four-by-fours. Even from here I can tell it’s scrawny and filthy.
I get up and walk to the back steps of the club and attempt to sit there instead, on the low wall at the
base of them. Not really in the mood for taking on a crazy cat, and jump when it appears to my left,
crawling out of its little shelter to stare at me from under the bonnet of the car. Slinking after me as
though it’s trying to intimidate me out of its parking lot. He doesn’t seem as ferocious in the light and
looks more flea-bitten and pitiful than anything.
‘What do you want? Stop eyeballing me. I don’t have anything for you.’ I turn my back on him to get it to
go away and head up the steps to the doors to put a little more space between us. I slide down to
perch on the top one and lean back against the solid security door as a backrest to watch the little
demon sidekick as he snarls at me from his position.
He’s scruffy, skinny and not the most attractive of kitties. Looks like a tom judging by the missing eye
and half an ear … probably not had a decent meal for a long time. He is all loose skin and obvious
bones, and the funny angle of his tail midway suggests it was broken long ago and has healed
crooked.
Despite his little aggressive nature, something in me feels kind of sorry for him, and in this heat, he’s
probably desperate for a drink. I wonder how long he has been living out here as it’s the first time I
have noticed him.
I yelp in alarm, head torn from thoughts of the cat when I catapult backwards as my backrest caves in
with someone opening the door behind me. I land flat on my back with an ungraceful thud, my head in
the gloomy hall of the club, facing up at the smug looking prick that just opened it.
Alexi stands over me looking down, obviously amused with this little manoeuvre and fully aware of what
he was doing with a smart-arse smile on that clean-cut face.
There’s a camera pointing down on the step and a screen inside this door showing this exact angle, so
he saw me sitting here before he yanked it open at speed, purposely.
‘You’re a wanker.’ I glare up at him from my lying down position and he just grins a little harder, still
towering over me casually, as though he could do it all day. I continue to lie here , acting like I am quite
comfortable and in no way bruised or pissed at him for being a tosser.
‘Stop lying down on the job, wench.’ He chuckles at his own joke. I just throw him a grim look and bite
down the urge to punch him in the balls. Alexi laughing is a rare occurrence, although it is having only a
negative effect on me seeing as I’m now lying on a dirty floor in an expensive dress, thanks to him.
‘This isn’t funny; I think you’re a prick.’
‘It’s funny from up here,’ He smirks, still beaming in merriment and gets the bird thrown right at him
from my horizontal position … my temper simmering at his antics.
Alexi leans in extending a hand to help me up, but I just slap it away, glaring furiously because now my
bloody dress is probably dusty and mucky right up my back, and I have to get up ungracefully while this
arsehole watches me. I am in stubborn and Princess mode, and I would rather struggle than accept
help from him.
I roll awkwardly in my very tight dress, and spend a few minutes getting up while he leans with one
hand on the door, keeping it open and still grinning at me like this is the funniest moment in history.
Amused that my tight attire makes getting up like some sort of acrobatic act.
‘You really are having trouble with the no touching thing, aren’t you?’ I snap at him in response, riled
and irritated and turn to walk back outside as I dust myself down, not really in the mood for my quiet
sun time anymore, but as he’s blocking the hall, I’m not pushing past him either. The frame of mind he
is in, he would probably do something equally childish to me for shits and giggles.
‘About that …’ Alexi seems to brush off the fun, turning serious, his expression straightening out and
follows me outside as I sigh. I can feel a foreboding wave of heaviness that whatever he’s going to say
is about to dent my mood for the rest of the day.
‘Can we just discuss the terms of that little rule?’ He turns on me when I get to the top step and move
to let him pass. He makes it clear walking away is pointless. His smile gone but still has that air of good
mood and amusement, and it makes me instantly suspicious. He rarely does obvious moods, even
good ones, and I have no idea at all why he’s in such a great one today. He has been like this since he
first appeared.
Especially after seeing how shittily his club has been running for months. I just cannot get over how
little that seems to mean to him at all.
‘No.’ I shake my head at him and try to dodge him, but he blocks me bodily and I have no choice but to
stand my ground, his back to the steps, so I cannot get by.
‘Sometimes touching is unavoidable and I just think it should be more specific … like I can’t fuck you—
unless you want me to that is.’ He adds that with a cheeky smirk and I swear he’s been drinking or
something. He’s too merry today and it’s creepy.
This is a flirty, maybe cheeky side to him that I have never really been privy too and I don’t get why it’s
on show now. An odd vibe coming from him in droves as his eyes twinkle with a little more depth of
colour in the sunlight. He looks as though he has a smile churning under that good bone structure and
his whole posture is casual and relaxed.
Maybe because he no longer owns me and has to seek permission for things he could just take before,
he’s applying charm and sexy. Who knows?
‘No. You agreed! You can’t back pedal now. No touching is what it is … NO TOUCHING!’ I fire back at
him, crossing my arms over my chest in a bid to get some breathing space between us. I am fully
aware my insides have started that slow rise to heat of their own accord because a hunk of muscle and
testosterone is practically pressed against me and talking about sex. Traitorous knickers twisting
themselves up as little flitters in my nether region tingle away crazily.
I am starting to despise the fact that we have a natural sexual chemistry so strong that it even
overpowers my longing to loathe him. I guess that’s how the devil reels you in over and over again
though. Makes you open your legs, just with some smooth moves and a little coaxing.
He’s infuriating me with the way he’s hemming me in against the door, which has now swung closed
behind me, and I can’t get off the step while a huge six-foot hulk is standing in front of me like an
unmoveable wall.
‘What about this.’ He pokes me in the rib softly, jokingly, and I swear I might self-implode with how
irritating he is being, slapping him in the shoulder in fast reaction and get even more irate.
‘What is with you today? You’re like a bloody child. Stop touching me! And what’s with this?’ I wave my
hand over his mouth area pulling the cringe face dramatically—Irritation hitching along with my pulse.
‘Why are you being smiley? It’s weird and creepy and something you don’t do.’ I sound petulant and
stroppy, but he’s making me nervous with his out of character behaviour.
He just keeps grinning at me as though to prove my point and I can’t help thinking maybe this is some
weird sociopathic trait. Maybe he has lost the plot in the last months and I am witnessing the creepy,
happy calm before he annihilates the world … Or maybe just me.
‘Maybe you just put sunshine in my day, Red.’ He mimics Gino’s lazy dialect and flicks my hair with his
finger annoyingly, earning himself another hand slap, although this time on the back of his. It stings my
palm and I give him another glare as my mood borders on violent anger. I don’t like the way he can act
as his twin alarmingly well. It doesn’t look right on him somehow and I don’t like him seeming so Mr
Nice.
Yeah, I know I am screwed up. I don’t trust good guys or the act of one.
’Eww, don’t!’ I put my finger in mouth and mock vomit at his attempts.
‘Cringe isn’t your style and you definitely need work on those chat up lines,’ I eyeroll dramatically.
‘Tell me what works for you and I am all in.’ It’s a low, husky definite flirt mode. The charm and jokes
are making me uneasy, narrowing my gaze at him with warning that I am onto his weird little game,
even if I don’t know what it is.
‘Is this you being a prick? Or is this you being … I don’t know … devious? Isn’t there a puppy
somewhere you should be torturing?’ I’m flustered, face heating because he’s making me fidgety with
this completely new side to him, and I can’t for the life of me figure out what angle he’s playing. Open
flirt and chat up lines are never his style and they were never aimed at me. I know he isn’t being
serious; I mean he can’t be, surely, and I don’t get if he thinks this is acceptable humour—it’s not. Not
with our history. It’s in bad taste!
He knows we are not going there again and why would he want to? He’s the one who pushed me out.
‘This is me being late to meet my cousin for boxing practice. I gotta go. Be good for once.’ He pushes
my forehead with his palm, like a sort of cheeky high five, and dodges my well-aimed third slap,
laughing at me as he jumps down the steps. He is still dressed in head to toe casual sportswear and
trainers and looks effortlessly ‘lad’ about to go jogging.
I think he’s had a lobotomy as this is NOT Alexi Carrero. Not the one I know anyway.
‘You’re a jerk,’ I yell after him.
‘A sexy jerk; Deny it all you like; I know you agree. You can both loathe and lust after me
simultaneously,’ He replies with a grin and a wink as his car beeps and flashes as he gets near it with a
key in his hand. That small dark sporty number he uses when he isn’t being chauffeured around by
minions.
‘That’s arguable. I’m not good at multitasking,’ I throw back, unable to stop the slight smile hitting my
face, despite myself—Confused that he is actually capable of doing it.
His mood is infectious, annoyingly so, and I hate that he, of all people, just managed to drag a genuine
smile from me. I have never known someone who can control such a basic thing while you hate on him
ruthlessly … smiling genuinely, unwillingly, is completely new on me.
‘Before I forget, I booked the shooting range at eight p.m., wear something comfy. And there will be
touching … a lot of it, just saying!’ He pulls open the door, winks at me again, cheekily and moves to
slide in, but I’m quick off the mark.
‘Wait! Alexi, about that,’ I call out in afterthought, not about the touching remark, even if it’s an instant
piss me off point because he has no chance, but the gun thing.
He pauses and I impulsively make my way down to where he is, steadily down the steep steps on
stilettos, coming to stand on the other side of his open door so it separates us and face him over the
top. Bold and brave in the topic we need to talk about. I can’t miss the opportunity he has just opened
up.
‘What about it?’ He turns serious, that glint of Master that I know well and it puts me more at ease than
his previous few minutes. This Alexi I know and can sometimes handle. The Alexi I know how to
behave around—the one who never made me smile despite myself. This is who I need to see so I
know how to behave.
‘I thought about it in bed for a long-time last night and … I don’t want it. The gun … not the umm … you
know, touching stuff.’ I don’t know why telling him this makes me nervous, or start rambling like a
weirdo, but butterflies start rising in my stomach in anxiety and I can already feel my palms getting
clammy. I guess it’s because I know he isn’t going to like this one bit, and I have seen enough glimpses
of normal Alexi these past few days to know he can still turn. He may be on the charm, or cocaine or
something right now, but that dark side is in there simmering away. He can go from zero to sixty in less
than three seconds.
‘Cam?’ Alexi butts in, a deep warning tone, but I raise my palm hesitantly, swallowing down the fearful
knot lodged in my throat.
‘Just hear me out.’ My voice trembles a little, but I’m set on this and spent the first hour in bed tossing
and turning over it. Pulling my brain apart and looking at it from all angles. Alexi has a reasonable side
sometimes … just not in relation to feelings. So, if I give him a logical reason then he might listen to me
without blowing up. I’m praying anyway.
I know how to handle him sometimes; I should dig deep and try to keep him sweet.
Alexi sighs heavily, obvious irritation growing, crosses his arms over that impressive chest, which looks
overly good in his tight sports tops may I add, and frowns at me. My heart sinks because Mr Control
Freak is peeking out and getting ready to erupt. I can sense it. I swallow and just go for it, knowing a
fast explanation is better than dragging out my ultimate death at the hands of an angry Carrero.
‘You can teach me all day long how to handle it, fire it and even carry it around like a second skin …
but I am never going to be as strong or as fast as someone like you.’ I start, sounding confident and
have a conviction to my tone. Alexi just remains silent as though waiting for me to explain further, frown
moving in and those deathly steel greys get more intense on my face.
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