The Carrero Contract - Selling Your Soul (Book 1 of Contract Trilogy)

5

The opera is not my idea of a good night and as we arrived only minutes before it began, I must suffer it before I am supposed to seduce this so-called future Mayor of the city.

We are in a private box above the theatre and I feel a little like pretty woman up here—it's practically a remake if I was setting the scene, although Alexi outshines Richard Gere hands down in his sexy black tux.

The box is private, dark and comfy, with a red curtain draped to one side should we want more privacy. The dark red, velvet seats are like posh dining chairs with extra oomph and padding and weirdly very formal. It's obviously a V.I.P. box as we are the only ones in here and seems we have a prime view of the stage below us, with complimentary binoculars, a balcony and a curtained entrance to our rear that leads to an outer corridor.

My strapless dress is red too, seeing as he did say it was my colour; long, fitted and has ultimate cleavage boosting abilities under a glittering faux diamond necklace that draws your eye to my assets. It's figure-hugging but kicks out to a fuller skirt past my knees and trails the ground when I walk.

Alexi totally digs it, even if he refused to comment or admit it; I caught him trailing his eyes up my curves more than once when we were getting in here and I wonder if maybe he is a cleavage guy when they are framed by the right outfit. This dress definitely makes the most of my girls and his hands on my waist when guiding me in here was a tad on the possessive side when other men strayed a little too close with a wandering gaze.

As much as I hated obeying him, my hair is up after I spent an hour in a salon making it perfect and my makeup is naturally flawless with a bold lip. Alexi gave me the once-over with a nod when I emerged from my bedroom and his appreciative glances implied he was satisfied with my efforts. It's probably painful for him to admit I look smoking, as much as it pains me that I had to obey him on every aspect of how I look.

I guess I can live with it occasionally when his approval is the reward. It makes for a less hostile environment and if the music was a little less ear aching, I would probably be enjoying myself in his company.

He isn't too bad as a date. Although he is a man of very few words. Even now, sitting side by side, I keep catching the little looks as he casts another quick scope over my figure in this dress. He only paid forty-six hundred dollars for it, so I am assuming he thinks it's worth it. I did make him pay through the nose to look this good, but he would have the nerve to tell me how to dress and I wanted him to suffer for the privilege. He didn't even react when I told him I maxed out the credit card he gave me today. Instead, he took it and pushed it back in his wallet with zero conversation, glance, or emotion at all.

I was expecting an outburst at least, seeing as the hair salon was two hundred bucks alone for the up do, then there was my nails, shoes, clutch bag and jewellery, facial, makeup, massage ...... I guess money is not one of the things he is hung up on when it comes to this kind of thing. That suggests he has more than enough to think of a few grand as pocket change.

He probably doesn't know what it's like to scrape by and have to make a few dollars last you a few days when surviving on the streets, hungry and cold. He has no concept of that kind of life; another reminder of how far apart we are in reality.

The high-pitched singing is giving me a headache, and as I glance his way, I cannot really tell if he's enjoying it or not. He's watching intensely, looking at all the characters on stage, completely engrossed. With his skill at complete inexpressiveness, he could be having the time of his life for all I know.

I still have not perfected any sort of art in reading him, and judging by his cousins frustrated digs occasionally, I do not think there is a human alive who can read that face, no matter how well you know him.