Chapter 357

“Wakey, Wakey, sleepyhead.” Alexi brushes his fingers across my face and rouses me from a glorious sleep with that sexy huskiness of his voice and hot familiar touch of his skin, star-shaped in this huge king-size bed, my body weightless and cosy. Brain reset and finally free of both headache and heavy fatigue that was making everything foggy.

He is lying beside me, propped on one arm casually so he leans over my face, admiring me, and bends in to kiss me lightly as my eyes flutter open and adjust to the gloom of the room. Igniting those butterflies inside of me that brings on a happy, bubbly internal kind of merry. It’s darker than when I fell asleep and I can tell it’s probably evening already.

“Hey,” I reply drowsily, stretching out like a Cheshire cat, content and yawning the tiredness away. Revelling in his affections that are becoming so necessary the longer I’m with him. I like his little touches and kisses more than I ever thought I could, take something from them I never knew existed in life. They are like air to my lungs, sanity to my scatty brain and I never imagined he could be the way he has become in the past weeks towards me. It makes me fall for him so much harder than I thought was possible.

“It’s late and we need to make plans.” He leans in again and delivers another lingering kiss on my lips, rubbing noses, moulding mouths, this time a little seductive light tongue action, his fingers lightly tracing my face and down my throat, igniting tingles as he does so. I giggle at his amorous approach to a half-asleep woman, sliding my hand up and around that strong neck to pull him closer when he breaks away. Loving the temporary lull in my self-inflicted mind mess and focusing on being seduced by a sexy man. It piques my libido and I’m not against waking up to some bed action if he is game.

“Why? I thought the plan was I sleep, and you do whatever you do. Be kingpin while I be lazy mistress.” I yawn again, impulsively reaching up with my other hand to stroke fingers across the five o’clock shadow appearing at his jawline. I run my nails gently around that square sculpted shape, admiring the face that makes me horny before he catches them in his and pulls my attention back to his eyes by kissing my fingertips.

“We have done all we need to do here, and I have to go see my father. I figured if we caught a late flight tonight and headed straight to The Hamptons from JFK, we could kill two birds with one stone. Vegas is not exactly doing me any favours where you are concerned and maybe my house, near my family will be a good place to spend a night before heading back to Manhattan. Time out somewhere relaxing.” Alexi fixes me with a gaze that seems a little unsure. A storm brewing in the mist of his eye colour and I can tell stress is laying just under the surface. He’s holding it in and waiting for a sign as to how I’m feeling.

I blink at him stupendously, my brain on slow mo. So many questions from such a loaded statement as I try to wake up properly.

“Leave tonight? Instead of tomorrow night?” I clear my throat and rub my eyes, confused by the change.

“Yeah. I need to tell my father face to face about us before it gets back to him via my big mouthed brother. I owe it to him to tell him first and there are a few things I need to discuss with him in general.” Alexi looks instantly ashen, furrowed brow, squared off jaw, and that tiny little flicker showing he’s clenching it. His words have my confidence wavering just a tad and I realise it’s because ‘things’ concerning ‘us’ means our shotgun wedding which I burst into tears over. Alexi has no idea how to navigate what I feel as we still haven’t talk about it properly, and I’m afraid to open that can of worms in my brain already. I just want to relax in the absence of hysteria for a little while longer. Pretend it’s not real, bury my head and act like nothing is different. For now, anyway.

“Right.” I sound less enthused about it than I mean to, and he instantly looks away across the room for a moment. Dropping my fingers and pulling far enough away that my hand around his neck slides free from its own weight. That heavy inhale and the way he sags slightly, tells me that this bothers him as much as it does me. He recoils to hide his reaction, but I can read it anyway. I wounded him, and I inwardly curse myself out for it. Guilt eating into my stomach in an awful wrenching manner.

“Give me a month. Just one, and if after those four weeks you still feel this way, we will get divorced and go back to just as it was. Quiet, quick and easy. All that matters to me is that I get to be with you, even if that takes marriage off the table forever.” He still doesn’t look back at me, a tinge of hostility building in the air around him as he gets to his feet and makes it clear we aren’t going to cosy up in bed. I can feel it coming down on me in heavily.

Alexi has his own orbit sometimes and right now it’s stormy weather with meteor showers brewing in the dark gathering clouds. Maybe he thought after I slept it would be a different story, and I just slapped him back down and stabbed him in the heart simultaneously. Waking me up cheerfully was premature and I think he just cottoned onto that. Nothing has really changed.

I can’t help how I feel though. Even if I now have a huge aching weight pressing on my chest, and my throat has constricted like I’m having some sort of nut-related allergic reaction. Mood nosediving into the depths of hell.

His solution is a surprise, as it’s not what I was expecting at all. Mr Control Freak and uber bossy ‘my way or hit the highway’ would never compromise to this level. I know it’s not what he wants, I can tell by the tone and his manner, but he is willing to do this to keep me happy.

I’m blown away that he’s offered me a way out and it’s not lost on me the magnitude of what this means. Alexi will do anything to make me happy, even if it hurts him in the process. It’s huge and the lump in my throat grows larger, almost choking me as warring emotions hit me in the stomach like a subtle punch. Another reason to feel like an even shittier person. I wish I could just be happy and want this as much as he seems to. But I can’t stop all that spiralling terror in the back of mind.

“Why a month?” It’s the only dumb thing that comes out of my mouth, even though it doesn’t really matter. Deflection from how vulnerable I suddenly feel. Trying to pull him away from brewing thunder and hailstones while skirting the real issue at hand. Ungrateful callous bitch who punishes a man that only tries to protect her, putting my happiness over his needs. It’s humbling and creates massive pressure in my hollow chest that threatens to make me cry again.

“Because I can use the fact you are my wife to once and for all deal with our issues in the city. One month is enough time to let it all settle down and let people know that you are. Protected as family, and it should cull a lot of threats in one go. Carreros are untouchable if they don’t want the wrath of my family raining down on them. If we divorce, no one will be told, and you will still have the same protection. We use it to solve a problem and take the emotion out of it.” His clipped low tone, the absence of his touch and the avoidance of his eye on me says it all. He moves away from the bed, looking around for something and I get antsy, anxiety growing like a large ball in my inner body. I can feel him pulling away and closing down into familiar emotionless Alexi Mafia Boss Carrero.

I stare at him silently, feeling the pain in his factual, emotionless words and know that, in a way, I’m rejecting him. The reason for my fear isn’t enough to shield his heart from what I’m doing to him.

Stirring up my internal tension and nausea just talking about this again only cements the fact I may never stop feeling this way. I couldn’t explain it if I wanted to. I don’t fully understand it, even after all the logical pep talks I gave myself at the Casino. I can’t seem to separate it from the past and somehow being trapped.

“One month. I’ll try. If on this date next month, I still feel like this, then I want us to divorce and never talk about it again. It can carry on as before and we just never mention marriage ever again, for as long as I live.” It’s harder to spit those words out than I thought it would be, and I almost choke on the effort. Like swallowing thick peanut butter, but I need the reassurance of a get out plan. A month is like a temporary trial, and as long as I know it comes to an end, then I can get through it. Freedom is shining again, like a light at the end of the tunnel. It’s a compromise of sorts.

I feel like an utter bitch even saying that to him though, and the way he clenches his jaw, squaring it off and avoiding my eyes, tells me he is taking it worse than he is letting me see.

“Deal.” He turns back to the bed, holds out his hand in a mock shake and I take it gently. Hating the way he’s making this formal and business-like suddenly. His eyes cast on my hand rather than my face, and I ache for the sparkle, which has instantly dulled in them, to come back. This version of him seems like a wounded boy holding it all in and showing his tough ‘nothing can hurt me’ persona. He’s never looked so young as he does now, and I come so close to tears it physically hurts my heart. I almost take it all back, but the words catch in my throat and choke me from saying what I mean.

“It doesn’t mean I don’t love you. It’s just …” I have no words to explain. Just a longing so severe to take that look off his face and make him thaw back to the tenderness of minutes ago.

“I get it. I do. I don’t have to like it though.” He lets go and pulls away from the bed, hand releasing my grip quickly as though I have burned him. Rotating his shoulder to ease a knot out, avoiding eye contact by turning away slightly. A cold tone and distance in his expression I should have expected, but it still makes me break. Even though I know he wouldn’t turn on me as he did in the past, that inner fear of his sadistic side hasn’t quite died yet. I know what he is capable of when shielding himself from pain, and I just gave him every reason to feel a lot of it.

I suffered at his hands before because he knew I had the power to wound him in places no one could get to. I understand why he did the things he did to me. Alexi has walls higher and thicker than mine and scars that run as deep. Armour-plated, heavily armed and rigged with booby traps for anyone who gets in. He gave me the golden key to bypass it all, and yet here I am, using it to stab him in the heart.

I’m a wretched, horrible human.

He just wants love. Like I do. That place in a person to call home and feel accepted in all our jaded glory. Flaws and all.

“Get packed. I got us a flight at after dinner, so we should eat first and then head to the airport. Gino and Alessandra are coming with us.” He sounds clipped and devoid of any real obvious emotion which only makes my stomach sink further. I know him too well. The less he shows the more he is feeling. I have hurt him and he’s taking it like the devil he can be.

Locking it down and presenting an ‘I don’t give a shit’ deadpan face to the world. Issuing orders and expecting obedience. I sigh lightly, deflating further. Knowing this will change how he is with me while he processes it a little.

I nod mutely, knowing any further refusals would not be wise right now. I need to learn to read him and act accordingly if I’m ever going to survive the storm that is Alexi Carrero. Give him space when he’s brewing, leave him be when I have acted like an idiotic selfish shithead and broken his heart. Even if I didn’t mean to.

He walks off, leaving me sitting in bed watching the empty space he departed from and pondering everything sadly. Left hollow, achy, heavy and tearful.

I never thought when I woke up this morning that I’d end the day as a wife. That while struggling to process it, I’d be hurting Alexi in ways I couldn’t fathom. I really wish I could be like any normal woman and feel happiness and joy at the fact we did this, but I can’t. Where there should be joy there’s fear of the unknown and a chokehold so tight it threatens to end me.

I’ve had a lifetime of being used, owned, bruised and controlled by men. Marriage to me is a prison much like being bound to a cross. I become his property, lose my identity and have to answer to a husband for any decision I want to make.

I fought my whole life to choose my own path in life and be free of the bonds of servitude and abuse.

It’s suffocating, and there’s that constant fear in the back of my mind that he’ll be exactly like his cousins were at dinner, now he can lord over me as ‘husband’. There are men who see that as a title to become domineering, controlling arseholes and I already know he has those tendencies in huge proportions naturally. I’m weak when it comes to having faith and trust in him, and even when my eyes and heart try to show me something hopeful, I get too afraid to believe in it. Life has never given me anything but pain. The times I felt hope, clawed myself out of shit, it dragged me back down, stamped all over me and laughed in my face. Experience has taught me that you should always be suspicious and follow your gut. Anything else gets you crushed.

My gut says this will change everything for me, for the worse.

I shudder at the thought and push it down as far as I can.

Even though logic is telling me I may be wrong, and today only proved Alexi is still the same towards me as he has been since he told me he loved me, maybe even softer as each day ticks by. I just can’t trust him yet. I haven’t seen enough of who he will be with me to think about throwing away all that I am, and all that life has taught me about men.

You don’t just throw yourself into the lion’s den without first sussing out the lay of the land and arming yourself.

I can’t live my life being an obedient, invisible nothing, living in the shadow of my man. I don’t have it in me to step in line and become subservient. I see women in this world at dinners and events all the time; silent, feeble women living under the thumb of their criminal overlord master and cowering at every angry glance. Very few women in this world are treated with love or cherished, in any way. They know their place, and the world of men in the Mafia and criminal dealings are some of the most backward, sexist and archaic men on the planet. Alexi may seem different in some ways right now, in the honeymoon phase which I know will end, but the Alexi I met almost a year and a half ago was very much one of the boys.

Can he really have changed all that much just because he fell in love with me? When the novelty wears off and I’m just another part of his day, will he still be so accommodating, and dare I say it, sweet?

What happens when everyday life settles in and he tires of his new toy? Do I get shelved like all the other women who married men like this? To live out their days pretending not to know about the hookers and the mistresses that are rife in their clubs and bars? To become church going, bake sale, pillar of the community, wifely women who do no wrong and never speak out of turn about their husbands and their jobs. Pretending to be happy while drinking myself to sleep every night alone when he stops coming home? Knowing the smell of cheap perfume, he will come wearing, when he crawls home drunk and disinterested in fucking me anymore.

That is all I’ve seen of men like Alexi for as long as I can remember. I was on the other side. I was the whore who serviced the husbands and listened to their whining and bitching about their ‘ball and chains’ their ‘frigid little women’, and how miserable married life is behind the white dress and fake congratulations.

And that adds another layer to my apprehensions.

I was the woman they carried out their secret fetishes and cruelties on because their women were not worthy.

Is that what we will become?

Alexi can’t tie me up and strap me down to fulfil his needs, so what will become of his kinks and desires now he’s lassoed himself to me?

And me, what will I do when he decides I have no place in the club anymore because it’s not befitting his wife to work there? Housewife? Pampered lady of leisure?

How will I hold myself together when I suspect he’s having sex with other women and pushing me aside like these men have done for decades? When I’m expected to be silent, obedient, and know my place. All while he’s ripping me apart from inside out all over again.

Marriage ruins everything.

I would rather go find his gun and finish my half-assed attempt of months ago.

I won’t live that way.