Chapter 192

Tapping my newly manicured pearlescent grey nails on the bar and throwing back my glossy red vixen hair I missed so much, I feel like the old me once more. I sit gracefully sipping the red wine I poured myself and patiently watch the cleaners running around with buckets of solution and cloths, as they wipe down every surface in sight. They have apparently been at it all day and this place stinks of bleach and cleaning products, so much so it’s stinging my eyes, but it’s a whole lot fresher and I can actually see, now the new lights have been installed overhead.

The bar is gleaming, and every chrome fitting in sight is mirror sparkling. Somehow, with the switchover of bulbs, the room feels cosier, less stale and musty, and the man who came to inspect for mould has treated a couple of areas ready for the repaint. The air is breathable once more and I had them burn all the bedding from the boudoirs this morning, out in the car lot … along with that filthy vibrator.

There’s a whopping chandelier over my head, giving a soft glow to the surroundings, and the new low lights on the wall sconces are making this place feel sexy once more, rather than gloomy.

There’s a note from the electrician on the pad by the till informing me he thinks the electrics don’t need a thorough exam as he found no evidence of moisture in the wiring from the previous flood, but a few of my switches should be replaced because they are faulty. Something else I need to get on top of. I don’t like this idea that something is not right and it’s something Joanne should have resolved before months had passed. Faulty switches are deadly.

I’m feeling decidedly more like Camilla, dressed in a black Gucci dress that hugs me like a second skin from knee to neck, it has long sleeves and is deliciously clingy, over high black stilettos and a simple gold belt at my waist. I feel good. I look a million times better and my long sleek hair has been pampered into gorgeous submission by the talented Claire from my hair salon.

I even managed to hide a lot of the mess on my face with a facial and a new bag of makeup from my favourite boutique and Sephora. Spent a fortune on the top-up, although I was annoyed to find my trademark red lipstick has changed shade subtly and I have no idea what happened to my old one. I never found it after leaving here. I guess it got left behind and binned.

Camilla is staring back at me from the mirrored wall behind the bottles on the shelves behind the bar and I can’t help but smile at her gleefully, happier than I ever thought I would be to see her again. It’s divine in a way, like a long-lost friend, signalling better times.

Finger’s crossed anyway.

‘You look familiar.’ Alexi’s smooth tone falls over me as he appears in the reflection behind me and moves to sit beside me on the stool casually, giving me a thorough look over and breaking into a wide smile. A genuine looking one that brings out those hidden dimples and for a moment he’s very Gino.

Too charming for my liking, he has that air of predator on the prowl, always hidden in the depths; I re-cross my legs and turn to face him more comfortably, laying my glass down. No reaction other than a raised brow.

‘And completely out of bounds,’ I add as a warning, reminding him that no matter what, ‘No touching’ is a deal breaker. It gives me instant delight to see that smile drop into his lap to be replaced with a tiny frown, and he looks back towards the club from where he came with a heavy sigh for a moment.

‘You’re late.’ I point out leaning over to tap his watch with one pointed acrylic fingernail annoyingly, and he just shrugs at me wickedly, not moving his overly expensive watch away from piercing talons.

‘I said you couldn’t be … I didn’t say anything about me.’ He smirks and goes back to that happy twinkle in his eye he came in with. He’s definitely lost his bad mood from earlier and it seems riling one another is a two-way hobby. Smug arsehole likes doing it as much as I do.

Wanker!

He hasn’t changed that anyway, keeping me waiting as though I have nothing better to do with my day except hang around for his entrance. He likes to feel important.

‘You look good … nice to see this back.’ He raises a hand as though he’s going to run his fingers down a strand of my hair and then halts mid-air, putting it down and turning in towards the bar to lay his arms there instead. A strange twitch to that squared-off clean-shaven jawline of his.

I guess the no touching thing was forgotten for a moment but he’s playing nice and respecting that boundary, for now at least. I have no doubts that along with the temporary reasonable behaviour, it will soon fizzle away, and I need to get my shit together to handle him when he starts being his devious self once more. Not that I don’t think he’s being that way now, he never does anything without prior thought, and I know there’s got to be a reason behind the lull in sadistic since I saw him again. It’s brimming under the surface and itching to be let out.

‘So … You wanted a little chat about money and said you had something for me! What … a cage? A new set of handcuffs?’ I jest, bringing this conversation away from my appearance, trying to lighten the heaviness of the air between us now we are shoulder to shoulder. Alexi just avoids looking back at me, smirking as he points to a booze bottle, and the shadow that came with him skirts behind the bar to pour him a drink dutifully.

I have no clue how he would survive without his ever-attentive minions at his beck and call. He is too used to throwing around silent orders and I wonder what he would be like if he ever had to survive alone and penniless the way I have. I don’t know if he could. As scary as he is and masterful in his world, I couldn’t see him thriving as a street rat with nothing and no one, the way I did for years.

‘I have my lawyer drafting a contract with all your ‘suggestions’’ he says it very sassily and throws me a naughty glance, knowing fine they are demands and non-negotiable—A little grudged nudge.

‘Hmm,’ I am not biting though.

‘How about I pay you a lump sum, set amount per month until the club starts improving, and then we can talk over the profit margins and what you are entitled to as half partner when it starts rolling in? Name your price, within reason, London.’ He looks over me again; something he is having a hard time stopping while sitting here and, in a way, it pleases me. He obviously still likes what he sees. I should use that to torment him now he can’t do anything about it anymore.