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.
I wander listlessly around the club, picking my nails, watching the floor without much interest. Angst is
my new current mood, and I am finding it hard to breath with the weight that has settled on my chest.
The hours have been dragging so slowly it feels like time has stopped, and I’m obsessively clock
watching like a freak. Mind unable to stay with my task at hand.
‘Miss Camilla … Camilla?’ Jackson is following me again and I look at him as though he has two
heads, unsure why he is repeating my name incessantly. He has been like a suffocating shadow all
evening and I don’t normally get this irritated with him.
‘What?’ I snap, that feeling of inner turmoil making me cranky.
‘You’re pacing like a mindless bot … maybe you should go have a break?’ Jackson has been very
attentive to my anxious pacing all night, overly aware of my sensitive mood and snappy tone with the
staff.
I can’t help it—it’s now well after eleven and Alexi has not come back, not replied to any of my texts
and not answered any of the times I rang his phone. I’m obsessing over his safety and worrying myself
sick over it. My insides are so strung out it feels like I might throw up.
It’s a dinner! They usually never run majorly late, and he hasn’t contacted me to say he’s staying away,
even though he doesn’t really have to, but he should have come back by now. He said he was coming
back.
He promised me!
I know I’m being ridiculous and maybe it’s a night of drinks and God knows what. It’s none of my
business what he does outside of these four walls … or even in them sometimes. I just cannot shake
the foreboding fear that my initial gut instinct was right, and he knew there was something tonight that I
should be worried about.
‘I’m fine … I just need to go do something, then I’ll be back.’ I dismiss him coldly.
By something, I mean call him again, or Mico, because I’m edgy and tense and all I need is a little
‘we’re fine’ and I’ll calm down. I have put off texting Mico because I felt stupid but now I just can’t stand
it anymore. My phone is in the kitchen on charge and it will take a minute to bite the bullet and do it. It
could just be that Alexi has his phone on silent because of his dinner and doesn’t know I have been
trying.
‘Wait!’ Something crosses my mind as I go to walk away and I turn back to him.
‘How far is the reach on your wireless thingamajig?’ I point at his ear thing and motion at his chest
where I know the other part will be concealed.
‘Hundred yards or so … out of Mico’s reach if that’s what you’re asking? I can try their channel but it
won’t reach.’ He gives me that knowing look and I exhale heavily—instantly disappointed. It must be
obvious that my earlier upset is plaguing me once more, and I blow out a long steady exhale to calm
my trembling nerves.
‘I need to call him. Something’s wrong, I can feel it.’ I sound like some needy wife, and I am aware
Jackson is giving the weird eye as though I am one, but he just doesn’t get it.
My life, whether I like it or not, is completely tangled up with Alexi Carrero on so many levels; it’s not
just about this club, this income, this opportunity.
He makes me feel safe.
If it wasn’t for him I wouldn’t be here, I wouldn’t have the apartment upstairs or my standing in this club
as part owner. If it wasn’t for him I would still be on the streets, hauling arse and begging for scraps in
the shitty direction my life was going in. If it wasn’t for him I would have probably met my end at Tyler’s
hands a long time ago and be another nameless face in the morgue, swept under the title of ‘unknown
victim of crime.’ If it wasn’t for Alexi I would just not have a life at all.
Alexi has made sure that my survival depends on him, and he somehow managed to solidify it by
dragging my heart in too. I just cannot imagine a life in which he doesn’t exist and the thought
absolutely terrifies me. If he died … I would die too.
We are weirdly connected, and as much as I hate the fact, I can admit it. Alexi changed me in
irreversible ways, so that I can no longer just go back to the street and pick up where I left off. Those
four months were proof of that.
He broke me, picked out the worst parts of Camilla and turned them to ashes, but in her place, he
rebuilt something else when he gave me another chance. He shaped a woman who has no desire to
ever go back to selling her body to survive. To live on her wiles and manipulate and lie to everyone in
her wake. To screw people over and always be looking behind her, over her shoulder, for the last
person she ripped off. To keep living alone with no ties to anyone; She was a despicable worthless
deviant, and she died with the part of me that Alexi ripped down … she never came back with me to
this place.
I want more! I want to be proud of what I do and have something to have pride in. I want the security of
people around me who care. I like my life now, even him sometimes, and I have no designs on
manipulation or upper hand in any way. I have everything I need, all I ever wanted as a child.
A place to belong—Safe and warm … sheltered.
I want for nothing, and even when he is being a boorish prick, I have always known he would never let
anyone hurt me.
In his own fucked up way, he has been trying this time, to make me feel valued and worthwhile; healing
some of the wounds he left on my heart. Even if he can’t actually say the words and make them sound
like he means it, he has been showing me a different side to him. I have seen it, even if I denied it at
first. I may not be dumb enough to fall back into his claws, but I appreciate the fact he has been trying
to heal some of the things he did to me. I have seen his efforts even if I sometimes mistrust them.
I pace away from Jackson, leave him watching me with an exasperated expression. He obviously isn’t
having the same panic over Alexi’s safety as I am and doesn’t get the depths of fear coursing through
me.
I avoid people milling around and head out to the corridor, using my pass to get into the kitchen out of
the way, glad to see it’s empty.
I head straight for my phone, pull it off the charging dock and immediately swipe to Alexi’s number and
hit dial, tensing my whole body and holding my breath as I put it to my ear.
It rings out for what seems like an eternity then goes straight to his answerphone and I try again.
Two, three, four, five times in a row with mounting panic as each one trails off then goes to his
voicemail. I take a heavy breath and shake myself, instead pulling up Mico’s number and try him with a
sense of hope and my fingers crossed.
I get the same result.
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