I slide into the seat of the private jet, quietly laughing at the emblazoned gold ‘C’ logo on absolutely
everything in a very amused manner that gets a shrug from Alexi. It’s not his plane but it belongs to his
cousin or something, and I get a kick out of the familiar iconic mark everywhere. I have seen it on
buildings in the city and on paperwork in the office sometimes. It’s not Alexi’s trademark, but the
business tycoons in the family use it to solidify a brand. Carrero is a household name on a lot of high-
quality products and services in the States.
I move in and slump down into the moulded leather of the best aeroplane seat I have ever sat on in my
life, enjoying the feeling of well-designed comfort as my weary bones unfurl. Even though this belongs
to family; with his money I’m sure he could afford one of his own and wonder why he doesn’t. He
travels enough to warrant it.
I don’t understand the dynamics of the Carreros at all, or the way the underworld and above-board
sides coexist and share, yet remain separate in public lives. It’s odd.
It seems like they are one secretly huge close-knit community underneath, who are either on the good
side or not. Everyone still interacts and knows what the other side is doing and seems fine with it
overlapping occasionally; Private relationships, such as meeting his cousins for training or family time
out of sight, away from prying eyes. The media never connects the flashy businessmen with the
politically ingrained ones like Alexi.
I know his cousin Jacob Carrero is on the New York’s hot men list for the umpteenth year in a row, and
yet Alexi has avoided being printed in any sort of glossy his whole life. He is hotter than his cousin by
any standard, in my opinion!
Both are known billionaires with many companies at their command, yet somehow Alexi is given a free
pass from the media and only those with his dark world connections know of his true reputation and
purpose in life.
I guess money can buy you any kind of front you need and equally hide the parts you wish to remain
unseen. He has powerful friends in high places and generations of connections that enable this almost
split existence. He can pass off as introverted money-maker who frequents events, and those in the
know are aware you never cross him or gossip about what his family are if you want to keep breathing.
It’s crazy how society lets it go on in the shadows this way.
I guess it’s a form of protection too, for those not embroiled in Alexi’s world and some who are. He can
take better care of the innocents if they are not linked to the family’s crime side; protect acquaintances
who show him favour. And I know, above all, he has a huge thing about responsibility for his family and
protecting them, always. With him, family are priority. I have always known that about him. It’s the first
rule in his code book.
Family comes first!
We got here before anyone, the little Club Carrero group of us, so as I relax after choosing my back
seat in an empty plane, Alexi moves in from trailing after me at a distance and sits on the seat right
next to me and gets comfy too. Stretching out his legs and throwing me a soft smile as he settles in
right beside me. I am not surprised he chose to sit here; seeing as everyone coming has a partner and
I guess it would look weird if he sat somewhere else and left me alone. Alexi never goes dateless by
choice, so he will expect everyone to assume I’m a current plaything.
I don’t really care as long as he knows that’s not how this is.
Apart from Gino, Mico and now Jackson, I don’t know anyone else who is coming with us and as far as
I know, it’s a small group.
Mico and his girlfriend Mandy already picked seats at the very front of the plane, facing forward to have
some ‘alone time’ and we are right at the back where the tables are because I wanted a window seat
and somewhere with a desk space to spread out. I don’t do social groups very often.
I brought some books to read on the flight, seeing as he told me it is three hours to Miami—the
billionaire destination for nightclub getaways apparently. I don’t want to spend three hours making small
talk with anyone, especially not Alexi.
I can’t believe we are all just hopping on a plane to Miami for one night of getting drunk and partying. It
does seem rather random and spontaneous for Alexi, but as Jackson told me in the lift, this is a two-
yearly event and it’s the only way Alexi ever really kicks back properly in his busy schedule. My being
invited seems a little more symbolic the more I think about it, and as I glance his way to evaluate him, I
can’t help feeling this is significant.
Alexi is texting on his phone, oblivious to me while he is focused on whatever and doesn’t look my way,
even when I stare at him for a good three minutes. That handsome profile set on what he is reading
and he just looks so young tonight. Not intimidating or boorish in any way. He seems relaxed and in a
bright mood. Even on the car ride here, he was playful and seemed to ooze a new side to him. It was
strange, if not a little nice.
He’s still dressed casually from earlier, with the addition of a leather jacket which only emphasizes the
tattoo running up the side of his neck and behind his ear. He had a haircut today and it’s shorter and
spikier than normal, he looks like any other hot man on the way to a weekend adventure. Effortlessly
youthful and sexy and I pull myself away from overly examining him, aware that he has a very extreme
effect on my nether regions when I allow my brain to stray down that path. I am trying not to let my
hormones cloud my brain when it comes to him.
I’m distracted by more people boarding and get a smile from Gino as he drags in a tall leggy brunette,
who looks very Italian, by the hand. She is slim, tanned, exotic and gorgeous, with a massive set of
boobs over a tiny waist under a very tight red dress, and smiles our way graciously.
‘Ehi, Alexi, da tempo non ci vediamo,’ she beams at him, and he looks up waving back—obviously
understanding her.
‘Hey, Alessandra, nice dress.’ Alexi gets up, eyeing her up appreciatively, smiling naturally, and moves
along the aisle to kiss her on the cheek. I watch in disbelief, a churning of something in the pit of my
stomach as she gives him a warm hug and kisses him back. It’s not awkward or forced and he still
seems as relaxed as he was.
‘You look so sexy in this. Gino might have competition, huh? She jests cheekily, smoothing her hands
over the lapels of his jacket, laughing when Gino frowns at her and shoves his brother in the shoulder
playfully. Alexi just winks at Gino and ignores the faux outrage on his face. It’s obvious that Gino has no
qualms about his woman’s loyalty. Or else this is just plain sick.
Alessandra has a very heavy Italian accent and I don’t know whether I like her or not. I don’t appreciate
her overly touchy way with Alexi, or the fact he seems to be totally fine with it.
I swear to god they better have never had a threesome or I may just leave on the grounds of that
thought alone.
She oozes sex appeal and is effortlessly beautiful and sensual in every way she moves. Inhumanely
stunning with a body to die for and I can tell even from here her dress is designer. She has taste.
The cut and fit is beautiful and I am instantly envious of her. Not just because she’s ‘blow your mind’
hot, but because she’s standing with Alexi’s arm around her waist cosily as they continue to have a
quiet conversation in Italian, as though it’s the most normal thing for him to do. She has his full
uninterrupted attention.
Gino seems completely unfazed, waves to me and then slides into a centre seat as his woman is being
monopolized by his twin. I am getting no hints of jealous or mistrust from his manner, even while my
own heart is pounding out of my chest painfully. Trying to rip my eyes from the sight of them.
I wonder if Alexi finds her attractive, I mean he obviously does. Even I can see her merits, and I am
straight as they come. Although I am not against girl on girl when it serves my purpose and I have
seduced women before when I needed to.
She leans her arm on Alexi’s shoulder when he lets her go and continues talking, perching against him
as though she owns him, which makes me bite my lip to curb the breathy wave coming over me. I feel
sick, even though I know I am being dumb—it’s just he used to use women as a weapon on me
frequently and I cannot stomach seeing it now, even when it’s innocent. It feels like anxiety or
something painful and I try like crazy to squish it down. They carry on chatting, oblivious to my mini
meltdown.
From here all I can pick up is Italian, which I cannot speak. Alexi is returning in fluent dialogue too, so I
get nothing of the conversation anymore and it’s frustrating to have no clue what’s being said. The odd
glances she sends my way unnerve me and I look down, opening my book to appear disinterested. It’s
obvious he has mentioned me, and I don’t actually want to know what he just said if I am honest.
Scanning the pages to find the last place I left off and trying so hard to calm myself internally, I jump
when dark hair falls in front of me like a curtain as she leans over to perch on my table.
‘Hello. I’m Alessandra. You’re Cam- eell- eeya, right?’ Her accent makes her pronounce my name in a
very quirky way that gets a tingle of a smile from me. It’s oddly cute, even if this is the woman who was
using my Alexi as a leaning post a moment ago.
I mean Alexi … The Alexi … That Alexi … Not My …
Never mind!
Up close and personal she’s even prettier and that accent is heavy and husky and effortlessly sexy. I
can see why Gino would never cheat on her with someone like me. She’s a goddess walking among
mere mortals and up this close there is not one blemish on her. He would be mad to look elsewhere.
‘Hi, Camilla, yeah.’ I shake her outstretched soft hand, feeling uncomfortable at the attention of this girl
and glance by to see Alexi is leaning into Gino’s aisle, they are locked in deep conversation as we wait
for more guests; ignoring our little introduction—Unimportant to him, I guess.
‘Ahhh how sexy, I love your accent. Lex told me you were a cute little English girl, but he didn’t tell me
how beautiful you were. You are just adorable.’
Cute. Little. English. Girl!
Is that how he sees at me? Some naïve immature child! Stereotypically British! And cute? What the
fuck is cute? Puppy dog or kitten like? Jesus Christ!
I feel so offended and somehow completely gutted if that is how he describes me to people. It’s the
most unflattering thing a man could say about a girl who spent her years training herself to be a vixen.
‘Thanks, I wasn’t expecting a siren to board the plane and now I feel a little underdressed.’ I point out
charmingly, nodding at her obvious club wear and then back at my casual black trousers and top. I
came dressed to travel and packed my outfit. I never even looked at my hair and makeup from what I
had done already. She looks set to walk off the plane and straight onto the red carpet, and I hope to
God that’s not what we are doing as I will have to get ready on the plane. I should have asked him. I
don’t feel particularly confident anymore.
‘I came straight from a shoot. I am a model and just couldn’t resist borrowing this little number for our
night away.’ She giggles naughtily and throws me a wicked smile.
A model … go figure.
I feel like I am paling in comparison, yet despite what she is and how she looks I am not getting any
catty vibes at all. The exact opposite in fact. She seems genuinely nice and I have never known how to
take nice people. I haven’t had many interactions with them and my brain always tries to find out what
they are angling for.
I have met very few in my existence and I just don’t know how to interact with them. I feel inadequate
and uncomfortable and just smile her way; my inner pangs of emotion settling down once more.
‘I like it. I have a weakness for expensive clothes.’ I distract, turning on the faux sultry charm I normally
reserve for men in the hopes it covers how out of my depth I am around her.
‘Me too; I think you pay for quality and glamour and luckily Gino indulges me—My Bambino.’ She
glances back and smiles their way; unconcealed adoration for the man she is besotted with, and I get a
bigger pang of stomach clutching envy, wondering what it must feel like to have that sort of connection
with someone and have it returned equally.
Alexi looks this way, watches us for a moment and then goes back to chatting. Nothing in his
expression at all, like always; infuriatingly disinterested in me while Gino sends little puppy eyes
wandering over at his woman.
For a second a little sharp spike in my heart hits me and I wonder what it would be like to have Alexi
look at me that way.
It’s stupid and destructive. I should wash that toxic right out of my head.
I’m letting this weird mood colour my thoughts and all this crap with him needs to exit immediately. I
need to get better control of my messy feelings, sooner rather than later.
I can see more people boarding just past her—A mix of very Carrero looking men and their women and
spot Jackson too, with a small blonde pretty. He left the club to go fetch his wife earlier, unlike Mico
who had her come meet us here. I haven’t met most of these people and they all split up to nestle
around the plane in little groups, waving and saying hey to everyone else. It’s obvious they see one
another frequently as no one rushes to congregate in an excited huddle.
‘I better go sit beside my lover; he misses me when I am gone too long. I am sure Alexi feels the same
when he lets his beauty out of his sight. You finally tamed the beast in that one.’ She winks at me
demurely, catching me off guard.
What?
‘Oh, we’re not …’ I don’t get a chance to finish as she leans in and pinches my cheek in a surprising
and very personal manner that shuts me up with the jump she extracts out of me.
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