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

17

I don't know what to think about Alexi and his punishments anymore. Nothing has happened, and I am on edge every second waiting for it.

After he came to my room he just left, silently, confidently, calmly and looking smug as fuck. Knowing how much he got to me and revelling another tool in his arsenal.

Jealousy and heartache, he knows it too. I put my heart on my sleeve without meaning too and showed him another woman could burn me. Biggest idiot move, EVER.

Long after Alexi walked out, Mico came up and told me to pack for the next morning. He said that we were going back to the city and back to the club. It was a weird moment and I swear it was almost like he was checking on me and evaluating the damage when he walked in. I wondered if he thought his cousin had roughed me up, and the look of relief was evident when he found me sane and sat on my bed contemplating some bitch named Joanne who thinks she can take over my place.

Mico is the one throwing me my orders nowadays. It's like Alexi can't even bring himself to talk to me anymore and in a way, I feel relieved. He's avoiding me, giving me the silent treatment, and pretty much acting like I am invisible.

It was the quietest plane trip and car journey back, but now we're at the club and morning is brimming with new light. I can see he never even slept here last night. The tell-tale signs and made bed before the cleaners have come up here say it all, and my stomach is aching with the possibility he probably slept in any number of the boudoirs on the second floor with his new squeeze.

Part of me is confused why he hasn't paraded her in here and fucked her openly in his room while I am made to endure it. That's his style and I know he will have thought about using it. I guess he's biding his time for something more epic, seeing as I didn't just run from him, I also hit him too.

Alexi is simmering, that clever brain of his is working out something appropriate for the crime, and not for the first time, I regret not following through with my running away plan when I had the chance.

I admire myself in the mirror for one last time. I'm wearing a new dress that I bought in a boutique in the Hamptons, it's long past my knee and figure-hugging everywhere. Capped sleeves and modest neckline yet it's crazily sexy and makes me look killer. It is pale coloured, cream faux suede with serious body contouring going on, and I finish it with a narrow black belt at my waist to accentuate my curves, black patent stilettos to look classy and make my legs look divine. It makes my slim frame more elongated and I look taller than my normally crappy height of five feet six.

My goal is to dress to impress, return to that persona I spent years perfecting and act like I no longer care or can be affected by him. I am the queen of hiding my feelings and acting like a cold bitch, and it's time I got back on track and did just that. He won't see me broken and wounded, he will see me manicured, sexy as hell and not giving a shit about him anymore.

I always loved dressing up and looking elegant, never favoured the trashier styles and revealing clothes if I didn't have to. I prefer subtle hints of sexy that drive a man's mind wild, as it gives you more edge than putting all the goods out on show for everyone to sample. My hair's down and sleek as I had my colour retouched at my upper-class getaway, in a salon I used to use there, so it's on fire and looking radiantly gorgeous. Makeup flawless and I have painted my talons black to match my mood. I'm in no frame of mind to take Alexi on today, but I look like I am, and it might give me some of my self-confidence back that he is slowly chipping away every single day.

I put on my favoured mask of brave, sassy and indifferent then head downstairs in search of breakfast and something to occupy my day. It's almost noon, my body clock still in time with the bar closing at four so this is my early morning.