Chapter 294

“Alexi!” I freak out, yanking at it to get it off my head, hating this feeling of trapped, muffled isolation and stop when his voice comes through my ear from the side loudly, almost like he is in here with me.

“Can you hear me clearly?”

I stop the manic panic and nod mutely. Not sure how the hell he can be inside my helmet, but it has the calming effect of being let loose. Not trapped in here with my own voice, but he can hear me.

“You can talk you know, the helmets have wireless speakers and mics, so we can still hear each other over the bike.” He taps the visor in my face as though motioning to inside the helmet and I giggle nervously, so much tension whooshing away as I do so. The sudden lack of panting makes the visor clear up again and I can see perfectly out of it. Just takes some getting used to.

“Right … weird.” I don’t know if it is because I’ve never been on a bike before, but I find it odd that helmets have wireless comms.

“You sound so close.” As though he is inside my brain and yet it’s oddly reassuring.

“I’m close, and in a minute, you will have to hold on to me and be even closer.” That smirk in his tone and I know he is grinning to himself at that little fact.

“Now I know why you chose a bike as transport,” I respond, rolling my eyes even though he can’t really see me through my foggy tinted visor.

“It’s the only way I can get you to cuddle up to me without argument.” He laughs a little as he says it and I just sigh, realising this is happening no matter what I say or do and allow him to guide me and help me climb onto that infernal machine.

He takes hold of me by the waist, reassuringly, and helps me up and over as gracefully as I can muster. I sit astride the bike, subtle hints of faint stirring and shitting myself while trying to not have an epic meltdown and make a complete idiot of myself in the process. I cling onto his arm when he lets me go, feeling completely unstable, and clench my teeth as he turns away and the bike wobbles a little. My insides somersault but I try not to react and sit stone still so as not to topple us over.

Alexi climbs on in front of me carefully, so he doesn’t catch me with his foot as he slides over, pulling the bike up with him to straighten it and I impulsively grab on around his waist from behind, clinging for dear life. Alexi doesn’t seem to notice the death hold I have on him and pulls on a set of leather gloves. He seems to have every faith in this machine and his ability anyway.

“Put your feet on those.” He bends, catching my foot and moving it to a little flat rest near the back of the bike at the rear wheel. It puts me in a better position, and I copy him, finding the one on the other side without his guidance, without letting go of the grip I have on him. My lungs and heart are fighting to keep functioning and I’m feeling dizzier by the second due to shallow breathing and lack of oxygen. Real fear growing inside of me and spreading coldly through my veins. I repeat a mantra under my breath ‘we won’t die, he won’t kill us’. It’s all I can do to stop myself freaking out as moving on this infernal thing looms in on us.

“Tell me you drive this a lot and have never ever had any sort of bike accident in all the years you have owned them.” I sound as scared as I feel, heart pounding and almost crushing him with the way I’m clinging on. My body is cold, and I’m jittery as hell.

“Not crashed ... much.” He chuckles, and I almost get back off again. The strangled noise that comes through my mic makes him laugh at me all the more.

“I’m kidding. Calm down, London. Never crashed, and I have been driving bikes since I was way too young to do so. My dad taught me as early as seven years old how to zoom around on a dirt bike. It’s like second nature. You can relax and enjoy the ride.”

Easy for him to say.

“Just tell me when it’s over and if I pass out, then don’t let me fall off.”

Alexi laughs again, a husky rumble, amused and I can tell he is enjoying my trauma. Arsehole’s getting a kick out of putting the fear of God into me. You can tame the beast a little by introducing him to love but that sadist in him will still find ways to get pleasure in his new-found personality transplant.

“You’ll be just fine. I’m going slow, just for you.” The tone says honesty, but my gut tells me he is lying. He doesn’t seem like the type to drive his thunder machine in any other way than super-speed.

Isn’t that why men buy these things?

I swallow my nerves as he starts the engine and revs it a little, and even through my helmet, I can hear the powerful roar as it vibrates through my thighs and I cling onto him even tighter. Arms wrapped around his waist until my arms ache with the effort and praying to some sort of god to get me through this. I hope I’m cutting off his blood supply and give him a fraction of the discomfort I’m feeling. He obviously wanted me scared and I’m sure this is a method to getting me all feeble and weak, so I cling to him pathetically.

I am literally putting my life in his hands and I wonder what the hell I’m doing.

“When you feel me lean to one side or the other, lean with me. It’s how we turn and if you stick to my body, then it makes it a hell of a lot easier to keep my turns fluid. Don’t fight me or lean the other way, mould to me.” Alexi’s voice pops up in my helmet, barely muffled by the bike growls, and I mentally cross myself.

“Don’t kill us,” I answer with more than a touch of trepidation in my shaking voice, heart doing the rhumba through my stomach so dramatically he must be able to feel me shaking.

Alexi sniggers again, that low husky, sexy hint of amusement at my unease in that devil tone of his. I’m so fucking glad he is enjoying this torture.

“I’ll try not to. You should feel honoured; I don’t let anyone on this thing except me.” He leans forward lifting one foot to whatever he puts it on and pushes us onwards.

That’s all I can take, that lurch of movement and I close my eyes, screwing them shut tight and grip on so hard I’m sure I might crack his ribs. Alexi catches one of my wrists and pulls my arms up to his upper rib cage as he nestles his pert butt between my thighs and the bike tilts to one side.

I can’t see, I’m not opening my eyes for anything and my visor is pressed between his shoulder blades, anyway. I’m literally terrified and so close to him that if I die, I’m taking him with me. He deserves it for this bullshit.

All I can feel is that horrible lurch of my stomach being thrown to the back of my rib cage as we speed up and the way we seem to sway side to side like we are on a rough sea.

Noise, movement a sense of falling and going fast and I’m sweating inside my clothes like I’m on the verge of dying.

I really, really hate this. I am never letting him do this to me, ever again.

I’m sure he loves it though. The fact I have no choice but to be moulded to his body and wholly dependent on him for survival. I now see exactly why he put me on this damned machine. Alexi is a tosser. He is the lord of being in control and he put me on something that gives me no option.

A couple of minutes go by of the same feelings and movements. Me stiffer than a board and afraid to breathe, but my body adjusts to it. I get used to the sensation, although my stomach flips every time the bike roars and I turn my helmet to the side, sliding across his back and open my eyes.

It’s a bad idea, as streets, lights and traffic whiz past and I close them again. It’s somehow worse seeing we’re going faster than it feels and I curse his lie that he would go slow. I should have known he would not stick to that.

Prick!

Thankfully wherever Alexi is taking me, is not far from the club. Still in Little Italy and as the bike slows down and his leans and tilts become more exaggerated, I can tell we are turning down alleys already. I lift my head to look and see I’m right. Narrow alleyways and tall dark buildings looming around us as he slowly manoeuvres his machine into a little maze of inner single-track roads, not meant for cars of any great width. They are barely footpath wide, and he turns us several corners one after the other. I sit up a little and loosen my hold, looking around at the worn and mucky stone buildings, the dimly lit windows, and find we are heading into a part of Little Italy I have never ventured into.

This area has a slightly industrial feel, and in the darkness coming over us, it feels like we are a million miles away from the club. The terrain and vibe are so different. This is more of a downtrodden area, like the place I rented when waitressing.

Alexi rounds one last corner, slowing the bike down to a rapid stop outside a chipped green door, putting his feet down to steady us as we stop. Looking up at a set of stone stairs. Parking right at the bottom of them and kicks out the stand before leaning the bike to the side slightly. I automatically put my foot down onto the pavement to stop myself falling off and he turns to help slide and guide me off fully. Holding onto me until I’m standing on jelly legs, trembling and have to stop myself from kneeling down and kissing the sidewalk for being back on it. I’m clearly still affected by my fearful journey and he follows me off the damn killing machine.

Alexi hops off a lot more confident than me, straightens up and pulls open a weird box compartment on the rear of the bike. He pulls out a brown carrier bag and a white box from what seems like Mary Poppins’ handbag compartment with magical endless storage.

He lays the bag on the ground and the box on the seat, perching it to balance and pulls off his helmet stashing it in the now empty space that didn’t look big enough for it. No helmet hair for him anyway.

I try to find the buckle under my chin, looking down even though it’s pointless and jump when Alexi’s hands slide around my throat gently and he does it instead. Pulling off my helmet in seconds and then sticks it in the back of his bike before locking the box lid. He lifts his spoils back up and gives me a charming smile. Looking unruffled and happy for once.

“We’re here … up those steps.” He nods to the darkened doorway and I let him take the lead. Intrigued by our surroundings but also confused as we seem to be in a residential area rather than a business. Definitely not a Chinese restaurant.

“Where are we exactly?” I follow closely, a sense that this neighbourhood isn’t the safest area to be in and almost walk right into the back of him at the top of the steps as he fishes in his bag for keys.

“My first home. Where it all began.” He replies, getting the creaky outer door open and heads in, gesturing me to follow with a nod into the dark interior. He holds the door open with his elbow so I can duck inside the gloomy hallway of an apartment building.

I blanch at those words, blinking as I take in the stairs and entrance once again. Downtrodden, grimy and common, hardly the place I imagined a rich Carrero would begin in this city.