Chapter 184

I cannot forget who this man is—even if he’s playing the role of sane and reasonable.

It feels like I am in an alternate universe or maybe I am high and not really here. Maybe I died on my apartment floor and this is the first stages of hell when they lure you into a false future before ripping the floor away and letting you drop into the fiery pit below. Alexi would definitely be a part of this— seeing as he is the devil incarnate.

‘Anything else?’ He brings me back to focus, head brimming so full I think it may pop. There’s nothing in his casual pose to suggest anything devious in his intention. God knows my eyes are scrutinising him for any hint of his known tells and I am getting nothing at all.

‘I get to move back upstairs, today … I am not ashamed to admit that I don’t want to go back to that apartment and have no energy or cash to do it anyway. I need to lie down and I don’t want to waste any time in checking this place over and start sorting out a list of things that need seeing to immediately. I want all the bookings cancelled until this place is deep cleaned and sanitised while I order all new stock.’ It’s a bolshie order, but if I am stupid enough to do this then I may as well commit and do it right. The thought of never having to go back to that dank room and crappy building isn’t exactly breaking me up inside. In fact, I am suddenly filled with renewed vigour and a tiny inkling of what could be mistaken for hope. To be in a warm safe bed tonight is my idea of heaven. No one could offer me anything more alluring than that.

‘Joanne can call all my clients herself and do that. Make use of her while she is still here—she’s your problem now.’ He moves to the bar and slides onto the nearest high stool, inspecting the surface with a look of irritation and avoids laying his hands on it. He turns to me, propping one leg up casually on the support of the seat under him. Leaning against the counter he lays an elbow on top instead of naked skin, obviously aware it’s not the cleanest. Believe it or not, Alexi is a bit of a germaphobe. Not majorly, he just likes things neat and precise and sanitary. I learned that from living with him.

‘This is going to cost you … that marble alone was fifty grand Alexi, and she’s turned it into a scratched-up piece of trash. It’s ruined.’ I point out, testing him to see if money chat will get a different reaction.

‘Whatever needs to be done do it. I don’t care what it costs. Just write me a list and send me the bills.’ Weirdly calm for him. Making agreements like it is second nature but I am not going to knock his out-of-character behaviour. He isn’t overly frigid when it comes to spending money on this place, not that I remember anyway, but that’s when it was being modelled from scratch. This place has already become a money pit after he spent a million dollars the first time around, and I am asking him to sink more cash into it. Not his usual approach to business, but I guess he’s partly trying to keep me sweet as we negotiate my coming back.

It’s obvious now why this place is going down the shitter, and I am not going to stand back and watch it sink.

‘Repainted, restyled, restocked. I want the cleaning crew in here tonight, this place is vile. I want it done my way—no matter what it is.’ That chin is lifting by itself, standing taller, finding my old self and my emotions are calming as I come to terms with this stupid decision I have made here. I am back in his grasp, voluntarily and yet, I feel nothing but numbness about that … maybe a tiny little ember of relief. I’m not sure yet what it is.

‘Fine.’ A small satisfied smile as he continues to watch me, standing here like a spare limb and losing all my fight and fury, fast.

‘Mico will collect my stuff from my apartment for me?’ I raise a brow at him, becoming overly aware of how crappy I must look as his eyes roll over me lazily. Now my distress is piping down and the shock of seeing this place is fading, I am suddenly overly sensitive to my haggard appearance and dirty hair. I want to at least get clean and put some makeup on, and maybe brush my birds nest. He makes you feel inadequate when he looks like he does.

‘Whenever you want, I’m not planning on staying here tonight, so it’s all yours. I have a meeting uptown which will run late, so you can have this whole place to yourself to pick apart and critique to your heart’s content. We can talk more tomorrow when I get back … get things rolling.’ Alexi is still pulling me apart with his gaze, so I turn and walk around as though to convey my indecision rather than move because he’s making me nervous now.

‘You said you would up my wage. I guess if I am part owner then that changes a few things?’ I ask timidly, now thinking about the fact I just cured my money issues in one fell sweep and the light-headed wooziness comes back. I went from minimum paid ex-waitress to club owner in less than an hour. My head can’t even dissect that yet. All the things I was close to tears over on that bench—fixed in one little Alexi Carrero sentence … Home, job, safety.

I can regret it later.

‘We can talk money tomorrow, so I can have my lawyer draft a contract for half the club and whatever tiny details you want included. I’ll make sure this is worth your while, Cam. I have to stay uptown until noon so there’s no rush to do anything except rest and reacclimatise to home.’ His tone pulls my eyes to him and the way he said that last word. Eerily soft and almost tender, even calling it that, and for a moment we lock eyes and I get a weird fluttering feeling in my gut I really do not like. He just sets a small smile on his annoyingly nice mouth and I break contact and look away, nerves hitching and try for a verbal distraction.

‘So, this is happening, you’re really going to just let me take half your club … the apartment … make changes … really?’ It’s like an afterthought as I calm down and my brain catches up, realising what I am doing to myself as bravado dies and reality starts to seep in. My doubts from the start of the conversation are finally getting stage space and I already know it’s too late to back down. My heart’s invested no matter how much my sense is telling me to leave. I made a knee-jerk decision because I was faced with a ruined club, and now I’m starting to let it sink in I’m having doubts that I can walk back in here and be around him again.

‘I told you I needed you back here. We’re negotiating it, aren’t we? I’m deadly serious.’ He sounds it too. I honestly no longer know how I feel. It’s all raw and mixed up and confusing. I feel like I am walking the edge of a large hole that’s trying to suck me in. I need thinking space.

‘You know this time won’t be like the last … there are boundaries that come with this, Alexi.’ I need to make it clear that I am not part of his empire, even if I do this. I am not part of what he owns anymore. I need to protect myself from a repeat of what came before. He needs to know that I am out of his grasp this time. I couldn’t live through any of that again, no matter how much I want my club back.

‘Such as?’ He is infuriatingly still as I fidget and pace, breathing laboured as I try to calm a rapid heart rate. The poise of the old me in tatters. No mask anymore, no more games. I’m scared, shitting myself at what I have agreed to do.

‘Me! You don’t get to tell me how to dress, who to date or how to behave. No punishments. No taking liberties or throwing your weight around. I’m not one of your toys anymore.’ It’s the first real genuine and heartfelt statement and comes out in the softest voice. I curse at myself for sounding vulnerable but I cannot take it back now. My hands tremble because this is where it really matters. This is where I can easily walk back out the door if he doesn’t agree.