I try to kick and lash out but my dress is too restricting and his fat body pounding mine against the wall
as he tries to get his hard dick against me is stopping me from freely moving. He’s yanking at his
trousers trying to free himself before he takes another try at my dress.
It seems he isn’t happy with our position and once again bodily mauls me. He drags me with him in
frustration and throws me against the countertop, so I fall back on it, my legs kicking up automatically
and I know that is what he was hoping for. A better way to get my dress up and knickers off; he grabs
one ankle as I try to make a dash to get down, and he pulls me around effortlessly.
The sliding marble counter against a satin dress just made me more manageable, and he has the
upper hand, putting his body between my legs as I slap out and try like crazy to fight him off. He’s all
over me like a leach or an octopus with endless hands and a sucker like grip on me and I scratch and
gauge as hard as I can while gritting my teeth and aiming all my aggression at him.
I will not let him do this to me.
I manage to pull myself further up somehow so my back slides up the mirror and my arse is perched
over a sink which gives me a little unusual leverage, my knees nearer his front than around him as my
dress is too tight for him to yank them open without getting it up first. I try to drag them round to push
him off and aim a bite at the hand on my wrist, scratching my nails down his face desperately and
aiming for his eyeballs. I have no scruples in a fight and will use any dirty method or trick to win. I have
had enough cat fights in my life to learn there are a million ways to gauge, maim or injure an opponent
with minimal effort.
I’m rendered dazed as a slap catches me out of nowhere and I’m thrown sideways, bashing my head
into the tiled wall before slumping down on top of the sink below me. I somehow end up face down in a
weird position for a second, disorientated with the impact; momentarily knocked for six as I try to get
my wits back about me. He’s pulling my dress up from behind this time and pulls me bodily to him
making it very clear he will fuck me from behind as soon as he gets access but I won’t give in.
This right here is a huge trigger in itself. I cannot be taken from behind. Panic and fear envelop me like
a red haze. Adrenaline spikes, fury and self-preservation and sudden strength bursts from nowhere;
spinning on the slippery counter top to face the little prick I claw at his face again aiming for his eyes
fully and digging my nails into them with a venomous effort.
Hallelujah for sharp acrylic nails and their freakish strength and durability. He lets out a roar of pain and
punches me square in the face in a bid to stop my assault, knocking me back but it’s a feeble hit this
time and it only serves to fuel my rage.
In the seconds of his moving back I scramble myself upright into the sitting position once more. Spitting
blood out of my mouth I use my back against the mirror behind me to bodily push him as hard as I can
this time, putting everything I have behind this one almighty shove; levering my knees until I get my feet
on his torso and use both hands and feet with all my might and hope my stiletto stabs him in the
process.
I push with every ounce of strength and speed I have, aiming to both get him off me and damage
whatever ribs he has behind that chubby torso in the process.
He falls back hitting the toilet door dramatically with a loud thud as it swings open behind him, and he
tips over in a drunken slump over the toilet bowl backwards. That gives me a chance to get free.
His body dumped like a sack into an ungraceful heap as he lets out a muffled moan and I see my
escape.
Grabbing my bag, realising he’s ripped my dress as it flaps in front of my breast, exposing a strapless
red bra. I hitch it up, jump down and run for the door like a bat out of hell. No hesitation in getting out of
here like lightning. I am an expert in running away in high shoes, even if I end up breaking an ankle and
I can hyperventilate and freak out when I am miles away from this creep.
Opening the main door in a complete panic, hot liquid running down my face while one of my eye
sockets burn painfully and gasping for air; it feels like my face is swelling with heat and pain but it’s the
least of my problems right now.
I am intent on just fleeing the scene, and as I do so, I run smack bang into the wall of warm hardness,
unshakeable muscle with both shock and disastrous results, known as Alexi Carrero. I literally fall back
into the bathroom onto my arse with a dramatic thud that sends me sliding into the wall behind in the
most ungraceful way ever.
Winded, rendered immobile and completely speechless. I can only gawp at him from down here. He
looks at me utterly surprised through the open door and then up and past me as Demagio comes
thundering after me clumsily and freezes like a statue as soon as he sees Alexi staring back at him.
Summarising very quickly what he is seeing, his face hardens into an unmistakable scowl. I can’t catch
my breath, blood filling my mouth and running down my face. I have a bloody nose and a bust lip from
what I can feel and every part of my head is starting to throb. My hair falling in my eyes from my updo
and I know it must be obvious what just went down here.
Alexi is quick on the uptake, even on a slow day, and I sure as hell never did this to myself. My dress is
ripped in several places, I probably look like I just climbed through some hedges and I certainly didn’t
deliberately add a bloody mess to my makeup for added ‘’vavoom.’’
‘’Alexi … I swear she came onto me and …’’ Demagio is back tracking, stuttering and stammering with
fear.
Fucking lying little prick!
Finally, the guy has the sense to realise what he has done as I sit on the floor just trying to get my wits
back and myself into some sort of sitting position. Not easy when your dress is like a second skin. I
can’t move really.
Dizzy, winded and aching all over as it all catches up with me in one painful moment. This is going to
hurt like hell in the morning. Alexi doesn’t say a word, his face returning to cool and blank. Eerily he just
steps towards me, bends and catches me by the waist with both of his strong hands to pull me up into
his abdomen and cradles my face with one of them, tilting my chin as he scans all of me with a
completely unreadable expression.
He gives nothing away to how he is going to react. He is in that ‘’show nothing’’ mode and I just tremble
under his scrutiny, relieved that he has intervened. It’s weirdly gentle and even though I can’t stand him
any other day of the week, right now I suddenly feel safe in his arms. Like I know it’s over, and he won’t
let anything else happen to me—it completely confuses me.
No man has ever made me feel safe, especially not one like him, who probably has the capabilities to
do a hell of a lot more damage than most. Yet standing in the crook of his arm, under his protection, I
know Demagio has no chance in hell of touching me again, and he’s not about to flip out at me for this
either.
We are in the female toilets; it’s obvious who followed who in this and a bloody nose doesn’t normally
follow something consensual. Alexi isn’t stupid by any means.
“You laid hands on her … on my woman; on my property?” He says it so calmly and slowly it puts the
fear of God into me, his eyes trained on me, not breaking eye contact and I just stand completely
frozen, with my breath held as my body turns to liquid in his embrace. His focus is clouding over as his
grey eyes darken slightly and the tiny tensing of a muscle in his jaw are the only hints of his rage
building underneath his mask. It’s not aimed at me but even I begin trembling.
It’s his sinister low and even tone of inevitable psycho.
Jesus Christ. Demagio is going to get it now.
‘’Alexi, I’m drunk and stupid and … I thought it was what she wanted. She kept teasing me and giving
me come-ons …’’ Demagio sounds like he’s about to cry and I cannot tear my eyes away from the
soulless greys keeping me rooted to the spot. Alexi is giving nothing away, just so steady and in control
and that’s what is most unnerving. His eyes on mine, and he has me mesmerised in a trance of
unease.
The withering mess of man behind me is proof that Alexi’s reputation isn’t just a myth. If the man
claiming to have known him a long time having a mental breakdown is anything to go by.
I swear he has started bubbling and out of the corner of my eyes I see him drop to his knees to beg. I
catch a glimpse of black from the corner of my eye as one of Alexi’s men appears behind him, and he
finally looks away from me, breaking his spell but keeping me up close against him protectively. My
body shaking and clinging to him for support even though on any normal day of the week I would not
be getting up close and personal for anything!
‘’Take Marcus outside; I’ll be a minute. I want to talk to him.’’ He moves me aside, hand still around my
waist keeping me pinned to him, so he holds my full weight, still cradling my jaw with a gentle hand and
doesn’t react when the man sweeps past us at speed.
Demagio is still stammering apologies and avoiding looking my way. Alexi’s men are practically
dragging him as he offers no resistance. Begging like a little bitch to be spared.
I hope Alexi kicks the utter shit out of him and cuts off his balls.
The last black suit follows, and I can hear the voices stray further down the corridor until they are
hushed tones in the distance and Demagio’s begging whiny tone is barely audible. I have no idea what
he’s going to do but I can guarantee it won’t happen in the opera house, so publicly. He will have him
removed somewhere private instead and deal with him in his own time.
Alexi lets go of my face and puts his hand into his inner pocket, bringing out a white folded
handkerchief and presses it to my mouth firmly, stemming the blood that was making its way down my
chin. I lift my hand impulsively, to cover it, and hold it instead.
His hand underneath mine feels different, even though it’s not the first time we have had physical
contact, somehow the intimacy of this pose and what just happened has me feeling out of whack, and
his touch right now is doing weird things to my nerves.
He is calming me effortlessly, soothing me, and we just seem to stand for a moment locked in a gaze
before he says anything. It’s almost as though everything else fades out and all I am aware of in this
second is his close proximity and those eyes reaching deep into my soul.
‘‘Here. Compose yourself and fix your appearance, I’ll be outside. Take your time, as much as you
need. I’ll wait.’’ He says it so softly, so non-Alexi and I melt with some weird relief that he’s not angry at
me and being weirdly human and warm. I feel like we are in another dimension, to be honest. One
where Mr Emotionless has a hint of gentleness and care and instead of hating on him I suddenly want
to curl up against him and let him make it all better.
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