The Carrero Contract - Amending Agreements (Book 2 of Contract Trilogy)

16

I'm in a rage, throwing papers across the desk in the office, which is now shared again, while scraping my fingers through my hair against my scalp in agitation, and getting more and more furious as I try to sort it out. My temper is simmering between an all-out tantrum and complete frustration; kicking my foot against the wooden leg from its crossed position, and fingernails tapping on the surface as I try and decipher more jumbled chaos.

Alexi comes swanning in around ten a.m. looking shower fresh and perky in sweats and a workout top, whistling to himself merrily, which is weird. He has on a hoody with no sleeves that's cut out around his shoulders in a very flattering way. It showcases the sheer size and strength of those toned, muscled biceps and the way his tattoos curl all the way down to the backs of his hands, up both arms and sneak behind them under the fabric.

I have to drag my eyes from lingering on them. He looks hot, even I can admit that it gets warm in the panty area at the mere sight of him like this.

By the looks of it he has added a new addition to his left hand ... where the tattoo used to stop at the wrist it now matches his right in meeting his knuckles. It's looking glossy, meaning it has some sort of barrier cream on it as it heals, so I am guessing this was done yesterday at some point after he left here. I am pretty sure I never saw it before.

It's another gothic skull, entwined with barbs and snakes that melt into all his other black ink like a mosaic. He has a thing for dark themed images.

He is clearly going to the gym this morning and I glare at him when he throws a boyish smile my way, that cheeky twinkly look in his eye which suggests a great mood. Meanwhile, I am stressed to the max clearing up the mess he let happen.

I wonder if it's sex induced and scowl all the more.

'You look happy,' He says drily giving me the once over, joking obviously, and I just cast another furious look his way.

'This place is a shambles; I hope your accountant isn't busy because I am sending them four boxes of shit to decipher.' I rage at him, unamused and with sarcasm, miffed that he seems lax about the pandemonium of his nightclub.

'Tell them it's from me and they will prioritise it.' He shrugs with one shoulder, a hint of a half-smile at me. He just doesn't seem to care at all about the surface of strewn paperwork or his extremely harassed hostess and I lose the last of my frayed mood.

'How could you let it go this way? This was half a year of my fucking life in the making, Alexi. It's been left to drown in shit and fall apart like it never mattered. How is that good business?'

I am completely frustrated at him and toss papers his way in agitation. They fall off the end of the desk in a slippery sweep and land around his feet on the floor like scattered leaves as he gets to the edge. Looking down at them he steps back and bends to start picking them up slowly. No more annoyed than he was on entering and I wonder what gives—he's never this cheerful.

'I was busy.' He responds nonchalantly as though it's a reasonable answer that takes away all the sin of letting my baby die; an annoyingly bland and repetitive answer that enrages me.

'Busy? Too busy to care that you were haemorrhaging money, and your whole set up to wine and manipulate clients was turning to ashes? What in the hell was more important and took four months of ignoring this place?' I snap at him and toss a pen on top of the pile of sheets in front of me.

Alexi straightens up and slides the papers on the table on top of mine, so they spread back in my direction, and hits me with an intensely serious look.

'Looking for you!' He retorts; a spark of slight annoyance in his tone now, and as much as I wish it was true, I know better. Always trying to turn an edge on me and make me yield to him emotionally.