Chapter 163


    Alexi’s apartment is huge. Walking in the door, ushered by four big burly men I know from the club and


    all inplete silence. I don’t even take the time to acknowledge them individually or even look up past


    ck heavy coats and wide chests to recognise each one. Just a group of intimidating security in


    matching outfits and earpieces who escorted me from car door to apartment door.


    I have no words anyway. Dishevelled, filthy and broken inside as I’m led into a massive open n


    penthouse apartment that I would never think of putting Alexi in. A building in Upper Manhattan’s most


    luxurious area.


    It’s warmer and homelier than the décor of the club, with slight ties to his bolthole in the styling. Huge


    soft corner couches, side tables and furniture for lounging andying cups by your side. In front of vast


    windows spanning entire walls and showing New York at its finest in sweeping views. I feel like we are


    on top of the world as we are so high up in a vast modern yetfy home that is less stark and male


    than the club. My eyes scan the roaring ss fire in the natural brick pir standing imposingly in the


    middle of the room, giving no real heat so it’s obviously a digital screen. It serves as a divider to the


    metal railed stairway behind it at the far end. I’m close to a white glossy kitchen that spans an entire


    wall and uses unstained real wood topped ind counters to create a more sectioned off space. The


    whole ce is in earthy tones, neutrals with fur rugs and cosy furnishings ced strategically around


    with the odd sculpture and a lot ofrge potted greenery freestanding around us. It’s vast but there is a


    sense of intimacy in all the little arranged seating nooks.


    Arge, grey wolf-like doges trotting out from behind that huge chimney breast structure startling


    me with his sudden appearance. Instantly my heart hammers faster, and hands go mmy as it drops


    its nose and sniffs the air lower to the ground while reaching it out towards us. Smelling us.


    An intimidating wild looking beast that stands abnormally tall for a mere dog. It’s easily at my waist


    height and although slender all over, it has a mass that hints at speed and power. It’s unnerving, much


    like waking in a hospital room with a stealthy Alexi in the shadows and that same feeling of intense


    anxiety and awareness ovees me. Skin prickling with nervousness and my blood cools my


    overheated body almost instantly.


    The dog, if I can even call it that stands off and watches us suspiciously in his poised stance, pulling


    my attention to its head as it raises it fully; studying us, eyes boring into us. They all seem oblivious and


    obviously used to its a presence, but I’m rooted to the spot, locked in a battle of stares from an animal


    that looks like it belongs in a Red Riding Hood movie. I’m the girl in red and I might be about to be


    lunch.


    I shiver, trying to hide my fear but I can tell it already senses it as it watches, statue-like and just does


    not react at all.


    The men scatter and go off to do a sweep of the building even though there is two security sitting at an


    office right at the main door in the only real sectioned off room in this ce. They nodded at us as we


    walked in. No one’s bothering to even tell me what to do now I’m here, or if I should curl on the floor in


    the foetal position until this scary arse wolf goes away.


    I just stand awkwardly, trying not to fidget, and move a tiny inch towards the sitting room while never


    letting my eyes trail away from those two beacons of intensity he has going on.


    He reminds me of someone equally terrifying.


    The soulless pale grey eyes of Alexi, on an animal. It’s weird and yet somehowforting and I can


    see what drew him to this animal if it is even his. That eerie pair of devil eyes,cking warmth and


    colour.


    “Lync. Here.” One of the men reappears quickly, having checked a nearby room behind a heavy


    wooden door I’m only drawn to when I hear him close it. He calls to it as he walks back to me and it


    bursts into a run, tail lifting to wag as it heads for Reynold. One of Alexi’s most used henchmen in his


    security team. He bends down, although he doesn’t need to move far as the dog is about the size of a


    small bear, and aggressively rubs its head and body while crooning at it.


    All of its scary ‘I may eat you’ manner, disperses into puppy whimpering and crawling around the man''s


    feet as it tries to roll on its back for further affection. Melting the hostility and suspicion away as he folds


    back his ears and his jawline seems to curl back into a weird dog smile with half-closed eyes at the


    petting. He’s soft as hell it would appear. It’s as big a transformation as dickhead Alexi to sweet Lexi.


    “Is he Alexi’s?” I ask stupidly, watching at my safe distance, trying to not feel weirded out that he even


    has a pet, let alone a scary reincarnation of him if he was an animal. It just doesn’t fit the idea I had of


    him and he has never mentioned this at all. He acted like Feral was a strange thing to have and now I


    find he has an actual wolf. Lync definitely looks wolf rather than husky now I’m examining him up close


    and not wondering if I can outrun him. He has huge paws and teeth, despite a skinniernky frame and


    very rough fur.


    “He is yeah. Lex likes to keep him out of the way. He’s a wolf mix with an Inuit in there somewhere.


    Rare and not quite your usual domestic pet. Lex rescued him from a kill shelter who had worried his


    mix would make him a vicious animal and unsuitable for re-homing.”


    I nch at that and blink at this animal again. His eyes are fixed on me once more in the most


    distrusting way, watching my every move while having his belly rubbed and it strikes me just how like


    Alexi the dog really is.


    Ferocious, untrusting, almost snarling feral dog, that I have no doubt is a biter when he wants to be.


    Yet, the ability to trust and a love of being petted with the right people. A much softer inner side of his


    personality.


    I wonder if I rubbed Alexi’s tummy, he would not strangle me to death for today.


    Might be best not to try though.


    I guess he saw a kindred spirit in this poor beast and now I’m feeling a little less intimidated by


    something that belongs on the cover of a wild ska animal book. Even if I’m not entirely convinced it


    isn’t sizing me up for dinner.


    “He takes a while to warm to people so don’t be offended if he keeps his distance and watches you like


    he might maul you. Lync was wild when Lex took him in, and he doesn’t trust just anyone. He’s well


    trained though and doesn’t like the taste of human flesh.” That wicked smile, a chuckle that puts my


    fears to rest even though I won’t admit it was what I was thinking, and I eye roll at his attempt at


    humour. Much like his cousin with his dry jokes. I think it must be a Carrero trait to be dry, blunt and


    sarcastic in humour.


    I have to wonder at the coincidence in the wolf though. Sounds like Alexi in so many ways and I can


    almost feel myself warming to the mutt on that knowledge alone.


    “Lync is a pretty weird name for a wolf thing, dog.” I blink at it, still aware of its eyes homed in on me


    and wonder if it’s the kind of animal to rip your throat out while you sleep. That’s not really eating you,


    it’s just removing you from its territory and wouldn’te under hungering for the taste of flesh.


    This text is ? N?velDrama/.Org.


    “Gino. He likes to think he’s funny and called this poor mutt the missing link. Some joke about Lex not


    being human or some shit. It stuck and now we all call him Lync.” He rubs him onest time and then


    straightens up to make a move. The dog rolls back to a sitting position and immediately turns his eyes


    back to me. Intimidation at its finest. The thing doesn’t even blink and I squirm ufortably and look


    away.


    I admit, the more you look at him, once the initial shock of seeing this beast for the first time wears off,


    the more you appreciate just how handsome an animal he is. He has definite wolf-like traits in his


    colouring and markings. That long face and piercing eyes, thenkier frame of a wolf over something


    like a husky. But then those eyes are something else. So pale and almost colourless in a face that has


    a much darker grey in it. It’s eerie but alsopletely Alexi.


    Pale eyes, tanned skin and jet-ck hair in an angr face. It’s what makes them stand out in the


    same way Lync’s do. The contrast.


    It’s beautiful.


    The man and his beast; it’s kind of cute and a little enlightening. He cared enough to save this animal


    and raise it. Judging by how healthy it looks he makes sure it’s cared for when he isn’t here. I’m


    guessing there is constant security, and the bubbling pot on the stove in the cooker suggests there is a


    housekeeper kicking around that makes sure his dog is walked and fed and adored in his absence.


    “I’ll just steer clear until it decides not to eat me” I smile warily and take a giant curve around them to go


    look for a seat. My legs are sore, my feet are painful from running in these damn shoes and all the


    debris I got in them. I’m scratched up and covered in filth. My battered body and face are burning,


    dress messed up. I’m aching and I must look an absolute fright after full on sobbing for most of the


    entire journey here. I feel drained both mentally and physically. Emotionally I’m just numb and trying not


    to dissect what will happen when Alexi shows up.


    I have no doubt it will be bad judging by how he was as I left.


    “Miss Walters, Mr Carrero told me to have a bath ready for you and some fresh clothes in his room.”


    The female voice startles me,ing from far left behind me and I jump then turn to see a very small


    woman in herte fiftiesing down from behind the stairwell at the chimney.


    She’s tiny, a little thick around the waist, dressed like a stereotypical Italian mama in a vige setting,


    with a floral dress under a cosy pink cardigan and apron over chunky boots. She has a wrinkly tanned


    but warm and friendly face, with matching grey hair in a tight bun at the nape of her neck.


    If I had to conjure up some weather-beaten kindly olddy in a magical story, then it would be her and


    I’m instantly soothed by her heavily ented voice.


    “I will show you to his room if you follow me.” She smiles warmly, watery blue eyes shining at me with


    no hint of malice, and I try not to dissect her as I walk towards her.


    I expected him to have a young, hot, highly sexed housekeeper he could bang when he was bored, not


    a motherly, frail little woman who is more likely to hug away your tears. I wonder if she too is some sort


    of Carrero rtive although I’m not sure he would put them in a position of servitude.


    Well, actually … most of his men are, so maybe he would.


    “Thanks. I could use a soak in the tub.” I reply brightly, liking this idea of getting away from men and


    dog and being alone to soothe myself. It doesn’t go unnoticed that despite being cold and pissed Alexi


    still called ahead to make sure I would be taken care of. A bath and food, knowing I’m a mess and


    would probably need an energy boost after the shock of what happened. I’m light-headed, fragile and


    woozy. A bath and food sound like all I can handle at the moment.


    Even mad at me he’s still trying to care for me, that must be a sign that maybe he won’t go nuclear on


    arrival.


    “This way.” She nods back up the stair and I follow obediently. Desperate to sit down and take these


    shoes off but not willing to show any more vulnerability than I have. My hands are caked in dry blood


    and grime and stinging from a thousand minor scratches and scrapes, all over my exposed legs. I’m


    amazed all my nails are intact though, so sure I would have broken at least one in that scramble.


    My hair must be a riot after my tussle with my attempted kidnapper, and I shudder as the image of his


    dead body slumped at Alexi’s feet zooms in to give me another stomach lurch. I push it aside, more


    afraid of the pissed Mafia boss who still has toe and see me over what he did to that man.


    As we climb the open stairs, I take in the surroundings to distract myself and my rhumba pulse.


    Pushing Alexi out of my head again. Nerves having themselves a rollercoaster ride through my body as


    I shift from hot to cold, calm to uptight, every few seconds.


    The carpeted stair has ss bannisters between the wrought-iron railing and just adds to the airy feel


    of space and luxury as we disappear to a second floor into more of the same neutrals and plush cream


    carpeting. No polished floors in sight up here.


    The lower floor from what I can see is mainly all lounging space and kitchen, the sectioned off security


    rooms at one end but there’s a hint of a room at the far end where a door is camouged in the brick


    wall. It looks like the apartment should end there, but as we climb upstairs, I realise the apartment must


    extend much further and it leads to more rooms. Behind that one door must be a corridor to more


    rooms downstairs and up here I can see he easily must have at least five rooms or more unless there


    are less and they’re just huge.


    I don’t know why he needs an apartment this size when he has several others. He’s single and clearly


    only lives with a dog. It seems like maybe one day he has ns to expand and I push it down and


    ignore it as nothing. Another niggle I can’t deal with right now which just adds to my tight tension and


    knotted up insides.


    She leads me along a hallway that stretches right down the centre of the upstairs floor. Many rooms are


    on either side behind natural wooden doors and I like the fact this ce has the space to spend a lot of


    time and never feel hemmed in. Maybe that’s why he bought it. He can be here a lot of the time and


    never tire of the rooms or get ustrophobic.


    I’m taken down what feels like the longest corridor ever, to the one double door facing us and opened


    into arge master suite whose windows match those of downstairs. A full ss wall on one side,


    making is light, open and bright. That view is spectacr and gives you a feeling of being up in the


    clouds.


    The room itself is bigger than the entire club apartment.


    A massive ck four-poster bed in the middle made up withyers of white bedding and furry cushions,


    shoved up against a free-standing brick chimney-like pir with built-in shelving. Dark wooden floors


    and one wall is a cleverly concealed row of white doors which I assume are wardrobes and meant to


    look like one glossy wall. There are some huge dark wood dressers along the wall to my right, between


    this door and another set of closed doors which are the only other things in here, besides a massive


    ss panel firece on the chimney, a good ten feet over the bed, and above the dressers facing it is


    an equally huge TV. Everything is concealed, no clutter or much furniture and insanely serene with it.


    Art on the walls is sparse, although they arerge to cover all the white spaces that are left. They are


    abstract and brightly coloured sshes over muted tones.


    “Bathroom is in there; I will get you something from my wardrobe to wear that might fit until Mico has


    your clothes sent over.” She smiles pleasantly pointing at that door in the room and nods at the


    bathrobe on the bed. A white fluffy one, concealed because it matches the throw on the end of that


    luxurious setup.


    “If you leave your dirty clothes here, then I will have themundered.” She smiles again, wide and


    friendly and doesn’t even flick her eyes over my messy dishevelled appearance with any kind of


    question. Just epts.


    I like her.


    “Thank you … umm … did Alexi say when to expect him back?” I ask awkwardly as she turns to leave,


    knowing she might not have a clue, but it’s worth a try; my stomach is tying itself in knots and could do


    with a little intel. If I know when he’s about to show up, I can at least rx in the meantime and unwind


    all the taut nerves and sickening anxiety running through me.


    I don’t want to sit here for days waiting for him and not know what will happen when he shows up.


    That’s a special kind of agony.


    “He said to make sure you were attended to and that he would be home shortly and to prepare dinner


    for you both. He does not like reheated food, so I’m guessing he intends a return within the hour.” She


    smiles again, nothing but warmth in that wrinkled little face and I wonder if she was an attempt at giving


    himself a stand-in mother. She has that maternal vibe and I could see why he wouldn’t want the hassle


    of a live-in maid whom he has banged. He hates women trailing around after him when he’s done with


    them.


    A cosy home he never lets on is his, a dog and a motherly maid. Alexi made himself what he was


    lacking, and I can see why he never let mee here before. Like his bolthole, this ce is


    somewhere he can be someone else, and it feeds a side of him that his mother never nurtured.


    “Of course.” I falter, covering my sheerck of knowing what’s happening or even something as basic


    about him as not liking reheated food. It’s not something that ever came up, seeing as I don’t cook for


    him, or have ever had to get food for him. A girlfriend should know these things though. I want to know


    these things about him.


    After today I guess that’s a moot subject and I can stop nning beyond tonight if he’sing back


    today. I don’t see how we can have a future after today.


    She hovers a moment to see if I have any other questions and then nods when I remain silent. She


    walks out and closes the door quietly behind her, clicking it securely and leaving me with myself, my


    thoughts and my bath.


    As soon as I’m alone it all sort of leaches out in a loud, heavy sigh and my body sinks from its practised


    posture. I stopped crying in the car, to be honest, I think it was the shock and an initial reaction to that


    turbulent episode of events. I then sat quiet and numb for the rest of the car journey and now it feels


    like I have a heavyweight of doom and gloom pressing down on me as I have another look about me.


    Trying to shake off the weary fatigue of carrying such an emotional burden. I feel like I’m not done


    crying, but I don’t want to start again in case it never stops. Instead, I try to take my mind off it by


    investigating my surroundings. Walking past the bed to nosey at a space I can see before the windows.


    There’s a huge dog bed in the far corner the bed had concealed when I was at the door, and now I can


    see a bookcase tucked in around a corner beside it. A little dark square space where the dog has his


    bed, toys and a couple of shelves with cors, spare tags and a puppy framed picture over it. The pir


    on the other side making a small nook where Lync seems to have his own space. Furry rug peeking out


    under therge, plump bed.


    I wander over to it, realising it’s much deeper andrger than it looked, and finger the array of novels


    and bric-a-brac nestled here on the built-in bookcase, filled with very Alexi things. Thrillers, spy books,


    psychological novels and framed pictures of those Alexi holds closest. All suggesting this apartment is


    truly where he spends time and calls it home. It’s a hidden piece of his bolthole and some of the items


    resemble the kind of things he keeps there. Sentimental little things, random, eclectic statues, books,


    trinkets and my hand hovers over a picture of me.


    It’s a selfie I took on his phone one day in the office to assign to my number when he told me to save it.


    I did it in sarcasm, just to annoy him whenever my name popped up on his screen. Pouting an overly


    dramatic kissy set of blood-red lips, a wink as I tousle my hair seductively, cleavage out and nestled


    cross-legged on his desk, a lot of thigh on show with his chair in the background. I remember taking it


    and the way he frowned at me when I handed his phone back to him.


    It’s been printed out as a five by seven inch and he has it propped in front of arge picture of him and


    his brother, at eye level. No frame but in front of everything on that shelf in prime viewing position.


    My heart somersaults, the warm feeling of gooey he seems to be able to inflict and I harbour a little


    hope that maybe this won’t be as bad as I think it will. Calming some of my frazzled nerves.


    Alexi kept a photo of me with his personal stuff in a home he likes to keep people away from.


    I don’t know when he printed this, but the fact he has it, says a lot. That lump that forms in heart and


    chest making itself known and I feel even more inclined to cry, just for different reasons.


    I run my fingers over my overly sexual pose and an almost smug expression, knowing I meant it to get


    at him and wish I could rece it with something more genuine. Maybe one of us. A picture that was


    not intended to get on his nerves, although judging by the fact it’s here, I don’t think it had the desired


    effect.


    I quickly move past it, fixating on other things on the shelf and push it out of my mind before I have the


    urge to cry again. Focusing on the pictures in frames but avoiding any of him because I’m not ready to


    stare at his gorgeous face and break all over again.


    There are pictures of Gino, Mico, Jackson, the guy I saw Sophie Huntsberger with, so I guess that’s


    Arrick. And one with him and Alexi in boxing shorts and gloves, and another man who is most definitely


    Carrero. All three of them have that look. The third one is a lot like Alexi in so many ways. ck hair,


    strong, tall and handsome but he has green eyes and a severe love of tattoos all over his arms,


    shoulders and chest. I mean, the three of them do, but he has by far the most coverage. He’s holding


    up a glove and has a cheeky grin aimed right at the camera. Nock of confidence in that one, anyway.


    To have such great DNA in a bloodline where all of you are a little too hot by human standards is pretty


    annoying. I can see that it’s a strong gene and seems to produce little replicas through the entire family.


    These could be his brothers, cousins, maybe even second and I wouldn’t be able to tell.


    I put the picture down and pick up one of a girl. She looks young, maybe teens and I recognise her


    from his picture album as one of his sisters. She’s pretty, cute, sort of innocent looking but definitely a


    raven-haired, blue-eyed beauty of a Carrero.


    This family and their looks. Crazy.


    The pictures are also a little pointer that my cold, heartless brute cares enough to keep his family close


    in sentimentality. I have never owned a framed picture of anyone in my life and wouldn’t have any need


    of a shelf to stow them on. I never knew what it was like to be part of a family until I was taken into


    Alexi’s club and despite his issues with his mother, it’s obvious he cares about his family a great deal.


    I slide off my shoes, dusting off as much of my collected debris as I can before sliding out of my soiled


    dress and lingerie and leaving them heaped on the floor in a little pile for the woman I didn’t get a name


    for. They look like I wore them to a mud wrestling match, and I pull on the fluffy robe and pad to the


    bathroom, leaving the mess behind me. Leaving his shelves alone and tearing myself away from


    torturing my sanity. I need headspace and not reminders of him right now.


    My whole body is sore, bruised and achy. Much like my soul and the thought of sinking into hot water


    and letting it all ebb away is all I can focus on. My brain is shutting down on me due to fatigue and


    emotional exhaustion and my eyes are dry and itchy from crying it all out.


    The taps are still running when I open the door and step inside to a huge cloud of scented bubbles


    growing on the surface of the deep water in the middle of a tub made for two.


    The tub is huge, big enough for Alexi, Lync and me if I wanted it, made from a natural looking grey


    stone in a bathroom decked from floor to ceiling in the same grey tiles and built-ins. It has sunken wall


    lights inside frosted shades and a whole natural spa feel to it which is a stark contrast to the almost


    clinical furnishings of his room in the club. These are softer, less edgy and sterile. I guess because this


    is the ce he considers home, then he opted for a slight softening of his harsh choices.


    Like the bed.


    Huge and foreboding, but simple white and natural bedsheets, with a fur throw across the end.


    Masculine, minimalist yet oddly weing. I can imagine lying in that bed and watching a good old city


    rainstorm in the sky from that wide wall of floor to ceiling windows. He has shades pulled up and sheers


    at the sides with a runner that suggests he can cover all the windows with either a light fabric to still see


    the lights at night or the ckout blinds when he sees fit and wants daytime darkness. That’s someone


    who likes to watch the view while falling asleep so even more of a contradiction to the windowless box


    of the club.