It's past seven and I head upstairs to start getting ready for tonight, showering and pulling on a new dress. I am going red, in a slinky, loose and floaty number that is more summer days than nightwear, but I am not in the mood for figure hugging and sexy. I still feel weird and out of sorts, and I am doing everything in my power to not think about Feral. Jackson took care of it. It's done and I need to forget it as a nothing in my life. My bruised heart will heal, and it will only serve to help lock it up tight in its metal coffin once more. Every new scar just hardens my resolve to never care again.
I cared too much for something that shouldn't have mattered and now I need to get over it.
I am not in the mood for playing seductive hostess tonight. I want people to leave me alone, so I can just do my job without pandering to anyone or anything. I'm agitated and prickly all over and just trying to get through my day.
I jump when Alexi walks in the door, catching me straightening my hair, by the mirror in the lounge that hangs on the outside of his bedroom wall. I prefer doing my hair out here as the socket is directly below it for easy access, and he smiles when he sees me. Seems he's in a very casually cheerful mood tonight.
'You look nice, as always.' He looks me over and walks closer, still dressed in sportswear from this morning, but he smells freshly showered and his hair is damp. I guess he was having a boxing training day or something physical.
I have learned that Alexi has a lot of excess energy and he uses sport to keep himself level. Boxing is the preferred hobby, according to Jackson. He does that sometimes to let off steam and hone his skills as a cold-blooded thug who beats up men in nightclubs.
Yes, I'm still smarting over Miami. He has still not apologised either.
'It's new.' I give it a little sway side to side as the skirt swishes around me gracefully, admiring my reflection as he passes behind me and tugs my hair as he does so. A juvenile reaction that highlights the great mood he is most definitely in.
'Hey.' I aim a slap for him, but he's too fast and bobs into his room with a laugh, calling out innocently once he is out of sight.
'I have to get changed, can you pour me a drink, please.' His voice comes from further into his room because he has left the door open and I roll my eyes at his expectancy that I should serve him, yet find myself putting down my straighteners anyway and head for the kitchen. No idea why I am being so obedient and non-combative. Maybe because he's infectious when he is like this. And he did say please.
'Booze or coffee?' I yell and jump when his head pops out with a completely naked upper torso. All that tanned muscle and tattoos on show and it has the same effect as mildly tasering me in the vajayjay.
Jesus Christ, Alexi!
'Coffee ... I need a clear head tonight.' He throws me a charming, drool worthy smile, oblivious to my squirming hot knickers, smiles, and then slides back out of sight as I am left dazed and lingering at all that muscle and skin he just flashed at me.
Boy still makes my underwear get tight. He has a seriously unfair advantage with looking how he does, and I push down all those niggling urges with anger at myself, for being so weak.
Arsehole.
'Why you changing here anyway?' I yell in afterthought at him—diverting my horny brain to safer topics.
'I thought you had an apartment in upper Manhattan you live out of?' I ask him, confused that he has come here just to get changed. Normally he comes in and out in various attires that he definitely does not keep here. I am under no illusion that this apartment is not one he calls home.
'I left my tux here to get cleaned ... easier to just come change here.' He wanders out wearing an open shirt over black trousers and is in the process of buttoning up as he wanders towards me confidently, not bothered at all about his state of undress around me.
I have already boiled the kettle and make him instant coffee rather than set up the coffee pot like he normally would. He seems like he's in a hurry and doesn't say anything when he sees the jar. I know he's usually a coffee bean snob.
I cannot tear my eyes off that expanse of sexy chest and physically have to rip myself away to turn around and look anywhere but at him. Body heating up with the sizzling effect of his proximity, and I almost forget how to breathe.
His hair is damp and messy from pulling off clothes over his head, ruffled gorgeously even though it's mostly short. That lip biting, yummy body on show, with little hints of black ink on a tight, toned surface, which does crazy things to my internals. Full-on electric horny vibrations pummelling me in the nether regions and I sigh in total frustration. BOB has been a pale comparison to that hunk of male flesh between my thighs. The cravings for sex have never been as much of a problem as they have been since the day I met this man.
Does he have any idea how much of an alluring sight he is when walking around like this?
'I am coming back here after dinner. I want an early start on stuff I need to do in the office, so makes more sense to sleep here.' He comes up beside me, sliding his arm around to pick up his coffee in front of me and throws me a charming smile, face so close he's almost in mine, and the air gets painfully thin between us.
I just smile awkwardly, aware that his sudden close assault has my skin prickling sensually, and I stiffen in discomfort.
'You smell nice,' he utters in a soft but heavy tone, those eyes locked on mine so my body tingles, then moves away and takes a drink of his coffee as he goes to the table and lays it down. He straightens to button up his shirt, disappointingly putting all those carved abs under wraps, and pulls a bow tie from his back pocket which had been dangling there.
I watch him expertly tuck himself in and wander to my mirror to put it on and tie it, mesmerised with the way a bow can neatly appear from such a strange shape and note that it's something I have never learned to do. I've never had a need to put one on a man and watch him a little too intensely—A practised skill.
He already has shoes on and when he walks back into his room to get his jacket I hear a blast of a drier as he quickly sorts his hair out. In the couple minutes of quiet, I can almost visualise him with his hair gel, taming hints of waves into scruffy neatness.
I love Alexi's most recent haircut. All short back and sides now and a little unruly on top, which leaves enough hair to run your fingernails through and grip onto in the throes of passion. Not that I will be, it's just a preferred thing.
He's back in minutes with a freshly styled do that adds to that groomed perfection of his as he pulls his jacket on one sleeve. Body emphasised by what he's wearing and I am instantly drawn like a magnet to look at him. My eyes scan impulsively, immediately to the one thing that stands severely out of place, and causes an instant nervousness deep down in my gut; A tight chokehold on my stomach.
'Why are you carrying tonight?' I nod towards the holster under his armpit, face dropping as seriousness hits me to dampen my libido. His gun on show and he just ignores me and continues putting on his jacket smoothly to cover it up. Something in my stomach swirls with unease, nerves rising as suspicion hits me and I move closer to him.
'Alexi? You never carry when you're going to dinner. Why are you taking a gun?' Sixth sense has all my alarms firing and my palms get instantly sweaty as nerves eat away at me. Something deep down alerting me to this one detail and I can't shake it away; A deep achy unease of something being wrong.
I have watched him come and go from this club, been with him at dinners, parties and such ... he NEVER carries when he goes to these things. That's why he has security with him instead.
'Sometimes I do.' He avoids my eyes, voice strained and husky as he tries to dismiss me and I know it's a lie. I can tell. I don't know how but I do. In all the months of knowing him, never being able to second guess when he's honest, yet right now, I just know. It kicks me low down with a fresh pang of pain.
'Is Mico going with you?' my voice is higher, hints of anxiety peeking up as I get more internally hysterical, and he is doing his best to avoid me, dodging me as I follow him around like a persistent child. He walks away from me to use the mirror for his final check on appearance as he rights his jacket and buttons it up carefully.
'Of course,' he answers flatly and that just tips me over. The complete obvious in what he just said.
Mico is going with him!
Mico is ALWAYS armed for this reason. Meaning he has no need of this unless his gut is telling him otherwise. Something in him telling him he needs extra protection tonight.
I swear everything inside of me turns to instant stone and grips me coldly. My lip trembles as I am hit full force with a wave of gut-wrenching concern for his safety, so strong I can almost taste it.
'What kind of dinner? With who? Where?' I question like the Gestapo, getting more and more worked up, my voice straining with emotion as he tries to get around me and sighs as I block his path. Getting in his way and hindering his progress.
'You're making me late.' He says calmly, a little hint of a sigh but not annoyance. Alexi isn't getting pissed with my behaviour, which means I have hit on something truthful and it only serves to make me worse. He moves me with gentle hands on my shoulder, but I grip onto one of them as he goes to leave, and cling on tightly.
'Alexi stop it ... You're scaring me ... You don't carry a gun, EVER, when you go out to these things. If you feel something that tells you that you need it, then don't go ... stay with me. Stay here.' I beg him, tears hitting me from nowhere, terror clutching at my insides cruelly; twisting my guts all up into knots with danger bells ringing in my head deafeningly. I can barely catch my breath.
Alexi just stops and turns his eyes to mine, slowly inhaling and pulls me close to him with a sense of complete calmness. Facially against him, so our body heat meets, but I'm too wound up to get any other reaction. His whole manner is that of the guy who cuddled me after finding Feral—softly, softly.
I don't trust it one bit.
'I know what I'm doing. This is my world.' He leans in and kisses me on the forehead, unexpectedly tender and lingers for a second, while I breathe him in and close my eyes at the forbidden touch between us. He throws me completely off guard and I can't stand it anymore, eyes flashing open as my brain connects the dots with a more intense agony.
It's too weird ... it's too much like a 'goodbye' for my liking and I don't let him go; both hands on his wrist as he tries to walk out and I hold with all my might. I dig my heels in and don't care if I am acting like an insane person. I won't let him walk out that door. Every instinct is telling me he shouldn't leave.
'You're not going. I won't let you ... in fact ... if you go ... if you leave ... I'll never forgive you. Ever! I'll pack my bags and run away, I'll go somewhere you can never find me and screw your stupid club.' I start crying. Words tumbling out in a rambling mess of shaking voice and trembling limbs, gripping on with everything I have in me as he tries to pry my hands from him without hurting me. Panicking while Alexi looks surprised at my venomous threats and stops in his endeavours to get me off him. He swallows noticeably as he returns that pale, calm gaze to my face and stops me fighting with a gentle stroke across my face, moving hair from my damp cheek.
'Careful baby, I might think you care.' He smiles softly, a gentle look in his eyes as he traces a tear from my skin with his thumb and wipes it away carefully. Distracted by him, he manages to slide his arm out of my hold and I just shake my head desperately.
It calms my internal chaos for just a fraction of a moment; enough that he manages to get space between us while I'm stunned at the tenderness of his action. Then fear grips me as he turns and walks away quickly, knowing he needs to go before I grab him again. He moves fast and doesn't look back.
'Alexi, don't ...' I croak, voice cracking as I impulsively run after him into the hall, he walks right into the open lift before turning and stopping me from following him with a raised palm. He looks tense, not angry or agitated, just pleading, with an expression that makes me want to wrap myself around him and never let him out of my sight.
'Trust me. I'm coming back.' It's all he utters, and I stand sobbing and clinging to myself, hugged by my own arms which aren't comforting. The door slides shut between us and I start to hyperventilate as it all comes crashing in on me. That sense of complete emotional breakdown because he's not listening and I feel like everything is spiralling out of my control.
I run to the button and press it hard, over and over in a bid to get it open once more, or one of the two lifts to open up. All I can see is his one going down on the counter under the button. With every second my internal angst intensifies. I can't breathe properly, gasping and panting as I shiver and shake.
'Don't you fucking dare, Alexi!!!' I scream at the chrome doors, blinded by my tears, willing him to listen, even if he's already gone.
'Don't leave me!' I sob as I claw at them in a bid to open them manually, but they still take an age.
My heart hammers inside of me as something tells me he knows he's walking into a trap. He knows something, which means, tonight, he may not have a choice but to be armed. He has a sixth sense and truly knows this world, so if he believes something is amiss and is taking extra precautions for his own safety, it means something really bad is going on. In his world—bad means something along the lines of most normal people's nightmares. Bad means Alexi is in really deep shit ... Which means there's a chance he may not ever come home.
I can't think straight. My mind falling into pieces of broken shards and shambles around my feet and I try to pull myself together, try to be rational about this.
I wish I didn't love him ... I wish I didn't care, but my heart is shredding and when the dumb door finally opens I throw myself in without hesitation. Stabbing the G button with a force that almost cracks my nail, and I start pacing frantically as I wait for it to move. Clawing at my hair as it finally slides shut and feels like it takes hours to descend to the lower floors.
I dash out in frantically, no shoes on, looking a fright with makeup dripping off my chin amid a torrent of tears, and can only see the normal floor security milling around as the back-door swings shut painfully slow because of its safety hinges.
He must have already gone out and I run, pushing past them manically, as I get startled looks, yanking it open and pull myself out into the darkness, assaulted by the cool night air. I can only see the backlights, glowing red in the darkness, of Mico's car leaving—too far to be stopped and already out of the gate. My mind scrambling into high alert mode, and I wonder if I can get to the front door to stop them in the street before they get any further.
I turn, mind set on hell-bent crazy and desperate to just stop him in any way I can, and run smack bang into Jackson. It's like hitting a warm padded wall at force and I gasp in stunned shock as a minor ache hits my whole body with the collision. I am still sobbing and acting like a crazy lady as he catches hold of me.
'Miss Camilla, what's wrong?' He gives me a weird hug, fully capturing my limp form as he holds me still, calming my flailing limbs and keeping me rooted to the spot.
'We have to stop him ... Something's wrong ... I can feel it. Alexi needs to come back.' It's out in a whoosh of broken, breathy, tear-laden words as I swallow and choke trying to get them out, and Jackson's face tightens. A calm coming over him as he seems to understand exactly what I mean and nods in a very soft and fatherly way at me, while patting my back gently. My body is straining and buzzing with energy to run after Alexi, but he's not letting me.
'He knows what he is doing, don't ever question that. Alexi has more instinct for things than any of us, so he wouldn't go if he didn't know what he was walking into.' He squeezes me reassuringly. Still a tight grip, but I shake my head, brushing away his sense and sniffing back a gulp of even more tears.
'He's stubborn and pig-headed and sometimes blinded by it. His luck has to run out one day. I need to stop him.' I wail it at him but Jackson turns me, coercing me into his arm, pushing aside my fight as he slides it around me and walks me back to the lift forcefully.
'He's surrounded by men who would take a bullet for him any day of the week. He has nothing to worry about,' he soothes kindly.
'Then why does he need a gun with him?' I baulk desperately.
'Sometimes he likes to have an extra layer of security. You know him, Miss Camilla; he is always two steps ahead and sees everything coming. He's going to be just fine!'
Jackson is calming the worst of my hysteria as logic starts to move in and unfog my brain, knowing he is right ... In this anyway.
Alexi is what he is because of his crazy skill at reading situations and people, and always being ahead of his game. He's ruthless, but he's clever. He wouldn't walk into a trap without all his avenues being covered and Jackson is right. He is known for overplaying the safety factor. It's why he is still breathing. It's why he suffocates me with security and over protectiveness.
'He told me to make sure you stayed put ... To take care of you. Let's get you upstairs and a drink to calm you down. Alexi will be back by ten or eleven, and you will see for yourself, everything's fine.' He is trying so hard to bring back my sanity with soft talk and gentle pats on my shoulder and I stop fighting him, somewhere in my head, I start to listen. Needing this reassurance so badly as nausea circles and swishes my stomach to death. I sniff and brush away the tears, blinking at him in utter vulnerable defeat, clinging to his words.
'He told you to make me stay? To take care of me?' I blubber, wiping my cheek with the back of my hand. Jackson nods and I know that Alexi must have known I would follow him down in the state I was in. Stopping me—which only adds fuel to my unease, but I am trying to self-calm before I turn myself inside out with my own over thinking.
'Mico and Daniels are with him, and he has taken extra men tonight. Two cars ... eight men. He's playing safe and he's got everyone armed just in case. He knows how to handle this business. He's had a lifetime doing it.' Jackson's words are starting to filter through, making sense of my manic panic and I take long deep breaths, tilting my face up to him very childlike—my voice fragile.
'Really? You really think so?' I ask him meekly when the doors slide on us and we are held in the small lift as it starts to move.
'He plays safe ... if he thought he was in real danger, he would never go. He has an ego but he's not stupid. This business is bigger than him and he knows it. He knows there are people who rely on him being here, so he wouldn't deliberately throw himself in harm's way. It's not how we Carreros operate.'
Jackson is doing a good job of bringing me down, but I am still so completely overwhelmed with the tightening knots of anxiety that are pushing my heart rate to painful rates.
'Maybe I should call him ... to be sure.' I nod at him erratically, seeking permission, not really inside my own mind and grasping stupidly. I may not have been able to stop him leaving but I can talk to him, hear his voice, and convince him to come back.
'Maybe, just to put your mind at ease; Get yourself to calm down if he tells you himself, he's fine—He will be fine. He always is.' Jackson gives me a small squeeze, I guess to add weight to his words and I swallow down the last of my over emotional outburst.
'Right ... You're right. I'm being stupid. I don't need you to come in.' I nod again letting him go as we open on the apartment floor and give myself a shake. Calmer head on calling Alexi and just trying to stop acting like some irrational psycho having a weird meltdown.
He's right. This is Alexi's world ... he's king player for a reason, and I'm sure his gut instincts are a lot better than mine. In fact, I know it. He's a cold killer with a quick mind and sadistic streak. I know that more than anyone. He's a name of foreboding for a reason, and he's made it to thirty-two years old without once coming close to death, as far as I know.
It was the gun. It spooked me, and maybe not because of where he's going, but maybe just seeing it on him, being in the apartment together—alone. Maybe I'm just triggered by memory and being an idiot; that panic inside of something being wrong ... was just memory perhaps. I still carry the burden of that night on my soul and this could just be that. Alexi and I, we have so much history and I shouldn't dismiss the effect it's had on me and my sanity. Getting myself worked into hysteria and being stupidly weak over something he has with him on a normal day, so why should I freak about him taking it out of an evening? It's part of his work uniform and not exactly unknown to be on him.
'Are you okay?' Jackson moves to follow me out but I raise my palm to him.
'I'm calmer ... I'll call him ... let him tell me himself I'm an idiot. Honestly, go back down, I'll be okay once I pull myself together.' I smile, embarrassed at my display of womanly meltdowns now that my sane head is pushing through the chaos and returning all bodily functions to a more even keel. I feel dishevelled, exhausted as the last ounces of being distraught starts to fade away. I have to fix my face all over again; I bet I look a fright.
Jackson seems torn about coming in, but he does as I ask and moves back into the lift with a gentle look. I turn and leave him to go back downstairs. I walk through the open door of the apartment I left sitting that way, and go off to find my phone, padding across the apartment to get it from my charging dock by the mirror.
I'll call him, and he can tell me himself that he has this under control ... that I'm an idiot. I'm pretty sure he will happily do so. I just need to hear his voice; I don't know why but I do. I'm so rattled and shaken that it's all I am focusing on to bring me back to a sane level.
I pick it up from the side unit and find his number I have saved under 'Lord Arsehole', still the name I use and dial it. It rings only three times before he answers.
'What is it, Cam?' He sounds serene and normal, like nothing is amiss. Not even annoyed that I am calling him, even though he just left minutes ago; that familiar husky low tone of the most heart-warming voice in the world. It gives me instant calm, and I close my eyes to visualise his face—confident, unaffected and deadpan in that infuriating way of his. I wouldn't change it for the world.
'Tell me nothing is going to happen to you tonight ... Promise me.' I don't hesitate, whispering it pleadingly as I cradle my phone as close to my mouth as I can, somehow willing him closer. He sighs heavily. There is no point pretending I am calling for anything else ... he knows I was a crazy mess when he left me here.
'Do you think I would be where I am now if I didn't always know what I was walking into ... how to play it? You have to have a little faith in me, London. I know what I am doing, and I will see you when I get back. I promise.' Alexi's voice lowers, probably because there are others in the car with him and I get a new wave of tears hitting me suddenly and choke as my throat closes a little. This time it's not for the same reason.
It's the strange intimacy between us in this call; the almost tenderness in his tone after how he left me—the way he left me—the kiss that halted my entire being for a moment. My body trembles at the memory but I push it away right now.
'If you think there's any reason, Alexi ...' I start to warn him, to beg him to listen to sense if he should think anything is amiss, but he cuts me off.
'Trust Me,' it's all he utters, determined with its intent, and I wipe away a stray tear accepting defeat. Knowing this is pointless.
He's stubborn. He's an arse. He thinks he knows better and maybe he does. I am scared and I know it's probably not as plain cut as it seems, but a lot of things colliding with the appearance of his gun have obviously tipped me all out of whack. It's the gun from that night, it's the only one he carries, and I fell apart at the sight of it. I need to think logically and stop letting emotion cloud my judgement. I know better than that.
'Maybe one day ... Just swear you are coming back to me.' I need the reassurance from him. That part of me that knows I still love him and what would happen if he was ever just gone. My whole life hangs in the balance of his survival.
I am pretty sure the next Carrero in line to his throne wouldn't see my importance, or the club's, and find a way to send me back to the gutter I came from. Alexi is a lifeline that means more to me now than what he can give me. I need him in my life, whether he's good for me or not.
'I have to ... Who else would drive you crazy and make your day worth living, huh? You need me to keep you out of trouble. You have a knack for getting roughed up.' He tries for humour and despite myself, I smile down the line at him, wiping another tear and accepting that my heavy chest is no longer from fear, but from just him.
'You're a prick sometimes,' I laugh softly, knowing what he says is true though, and I close my eyes one more time to just listen to that voice. Still not completely convinced that he's safe but it's out of my hands and I need to have faith in his ability.
'You're a pain in my ass ... but I'll always come home to you. I promise. Now get off the phone. I'm busy and my men are looking at me like I've gone soft.' He sounds more commanding and back to normal; Hints of sarcasm and mock, but not in a nasty way. I smile, warming with the banter that is sometimes okay between us and let go all the worry that's strangling me.
'I think maybe you have,' I jibe, but I know that's not true. Alexi is still as he was. Still capable of bastard and sadistic, I'm just not the focus of it anymore.
'Only where you're concerned; Go do your job ... it's almost Showtime. Go make us some money and stop worrying over things that are not your concern. It's my problem, not yours.' It's a telling off I guess. A reminder I should trust him to do what he does, he's the boss for a reason, and even though I'm now calm and sane and no longer crying, I can't shift the weight in my belly.
'Aye, aye, captain. I shall not bother you with my female hysterics again.' I mutter it defeated, knowing he's right—one last sniff, one last deep breath.
'Good ... I'm not built for them. And you seem to have more than most.' He laughs at that, a soft, gentle almost nothing laugh, and puts the last band-aid on my stupid wounds. I shouldn't be worried. He's Alexi Carrero ... Kingpin of New York and this is his domain. I'm a fool to have ever thought he didn't have this in the bag. He's a cocky, arrogant, self-loving arsehole for a reason.
'Get off the phone, you wanker,' I toss back at him, our banter returning genuinely and our tone evens out. All intimacy moving away from intense and I do feel lighter.
'Cam? Did you know your cell could do this?'
'Do what?' I ask innocently and wait patiently for some extra special amazing trick and realise the phone has gone completely silent. I take it away from my face and look at the screen.
Fucking bastard hung up on me.
I rage at the nerve of him, caught between a laugh because it's a cheeky arse move that is just a complete Alexi thing to do, and annoyed that the insensitive prick would actually fucking hang up on me.
Just when I think he's getting a little too Gino ... tosser does something like that.
Arsehole.
I text him impulsively, enraged that he's such an insensitive moron and a complete dickhead at the most inappropriate times.
'Sometimes I really don't like you! London X'
I stick my nose in the air in a snooty mood, glad that I feel better from talking to him and less crazy scared that he's riding off to be executed, even if he has annoyed me. I feel dumb now I think about it. Riled, that, as per usual, he had to go and ruin something nice with the plonk of a man he is.
'I'm into that. And thanks ... For admitting you sometimes do. Now stop bothering me! X'
Prick.