Chapter 365
I follow him feebly to get the hell away from this rude arsehole before I say something I regret and agree a drink would be good about now. I walk at a pace to match his and try to edge his way before she follows at speed.
I literally will her to go the fuck away before he really snaps, and I have to deal with the fallout. Alexi in a bad mood is headache worthy.
“How dare you speak to me like that Alessandro; I’m your mother and you will not behave in such a manner under my roof. Show me some goddamn respect! I raised you better than this!” She matches his tone and level perfectly and for a second, I can see exactly where that temper and intimidating, growly, husky tone comes from. Alexi may look like his father but that cold side and sadistic bastard personality is all her. It runs deep as hell.
The woman is clearly a narcissist on some level and Alexi was the child she singled out to blame his entire life.
Who is she trying to kid when she talks about raising him?
He seems to try his best to ignore her, pouring liquor from the first glass bottle into a tumbler and nods to me offering one. I shake my head, despite wanting one, as I know I might just let rip if I have a drink right now.
“How about you stop insulting my wife and we won’t have a fucking problem.” He throws a look over his shoulder at her, yelling it loudly, straight at her face, and even as the words leave his mouth, I see the instant regret in his eyes. Impulsive words that he didn’t want to come out this way.
The horror in my belly that he just blurted it out like that, while she’s on an anti-Camilla rampage, and well, the absolutely mortified expression on her face seals my fate.
It’s like a lead balloon being dropped on a glass floor in a silent room. The gasp from her and the shocked wide-eyed ‘Alessandro!’ before he clicks what he just said and throws me a little look of ‘shit’. It wasn’t what he wanted, and now it’s just fuelled the hatred she has brewed for this wicked jezebel standing in her hall. I have defiled her son's good name just by being linked to him. Hell, she probably thinks the name Carrero is now cursed, used goods for all time.
“Your what?!?!?” she erupts loudly so it echoes in this vast room; losing her cool, she storms at him to grab his elbow and yanks him to look at her. She hasn’t got the strength to really move him but the spew of toxic Italian that follows her manoeuvre gets him spinning on her of his own volition. I step back against a nearby couch to steady myself, legs turning to jelly with this turn for the worst and I try to inhale slowly to keep my cool.
‘My wife! Yes, Mama, I married her … in Vegas. It’s a done deal, so say hi to your new daughter-in-law.’ Alexi has given up trying to keep his shit together, and the appearance of that cold and terrifying persona that sends shivers through me snarls the words her way. She doesn’t even blink an eye, instead, she also takes on that weird evil glare, the insanely intimidating stance of someone rallying themselves for a fight.
“I’m disgusted that you would cheapen our family name by marrying a common slut on a whim, most likely high on drugs and booze while pissing your life away. You never change! You just drag us down in any way you can, and now you have outdone yourself!”
There is real hatred in her tone and despite his anger and furious expression, I catch the hurt in his eyes. The tiny bite of her words and the dip of his brow as he swallows what must be a familiar statement thrown at him.
“Don’t you fucking dare! You don’t know her or anything about how we are together. I won’t let you talk about her like that. I didn’t come here for your approval. I came to tell my father, and I would appreciate if you let me do that. We can leave and forego your cosy lunch if you prefer. I don’t give a shit. I came to see him, not you, and now you know.” Alexi is simmering all his rage, trying to control it, and I can practically see the haze of fiery heat emanating from his poised and stiff stance. She squares up to him, completely unfazed by the hulking great mass of aggressive testosterone in front of her, and I wonder if she really is oblivious to the fact, he kills men with his bare hands. I wouldn’t be so quick to get all up in his face if I were her, especially not bad-mouthing me to shit. He has killed for me. I swallow loudly, gripping the chair in sheer terror as anxiety spreads through my limbs, rooting me to the spot, and I forget to breathe.
“How could you do this? I can see what she is. A gold-digging whore with a fake accent and a tight grip on your bank balance. Look at her. Where did you find her? A strip club, Alessandro? She is common and obviously used to wrapping men around her finger for all she can get. How could you be so stupid? You are not a naïve boy, why would you lower yourself to marrying someone so unworthy? A woman of the night, painted red for the world to see.” That nasty toxic tone dissolves into pathetic crocodile tears as she pulls on the victim act, and I can see exactly what she is doing. Turning the tables on him because her anger isn’t getting her the result she wants from him. I know this act all too well because I’m fucking epic at it and can manipulate on a whim. She’s doing exactly that, ripping out his feet from under him to reduce him to a remorseful mess.
Alexi’s temper dies a death and the look of shame and guilt sweeps over him instantly.
I guess I know where he gets his ability to manipulate people from too.
I can imagine what kind of mother she was to this little boy growing up. A viper tongue with a million insults for a child she could not control, and then the heavy emotional blackmail and accusations when she couldn’t get him to toe the line. He rebelled, he played up and chose his own way in the world and no doubt met this wrath with every step he took. Either by viciousness or tears, she manipulated him and made him feel worthless, just as she is doing now.
That’s enough for me. And I can’t take this anymore. Something inside of me snaps at the sight of her trying to reduce him to this mess. I won’t let some bitch twist my Lexi’s head and heart this way.
He’s mine now and you do not fucking hurt him in any way!
“Actually, it was a gutter downtown after a bunch of thugs beat me up for a drug debt I bumped. I’m an ex-hooker, luv, and I fucked men for money, not married them. I had my own little operation going before this one bailed me out of the shit storm and gave me a job in his sex club. Saved my arse and well, I fell for him hook line and sinker. As for the accent, it’s genuine, sort of. I’m a Londoner, but yeah, common as they come, and grew up begging for scraps and screwing men from a very young age. You were close though, so half a gold star for that. As for his bank balance, well, I don’t really need it considering he gave me the club, and it turns over a nice little profit with all the rich suits who come to cheat on their wives from your neck of the woods. Oh, I’ve met your husband, by the way, he seemed nice when he popped in.” I raise a catty brow, tone dripping with disdain as I pull myself up and lift that defiant chin, fixing a blue hostile glare right on her face. I watch her go from rosy fake despair to ghost white, shocked stupid, and then the beetroot puce of filthy rage in the space of thirty seconds flat.
Hand on my hip and a cocky smirk on my face as I count the seconds it takes for her head to explode. If she is anything like her son, then it won’t be long, and I smirk as I relax into an obvious ‘fuck you’ pose. Alexi turns and looks at me, mouth slightly agape because I obviously cut him off before another snarling rant, and shocked that I just said what I said to his mother, of all people. I throw him an apologetic ‘she made me do it’ shrug and try for a smile to meet his stone-faced expression.
If I can handle him, then I sure as hell can handle her, stuck-up psycho bitchface.
“What the …? Oh, my God. That’s …” She stammers with so much seething anger she can’t get the words out, stuttering, forgetting she was whimpering and trying to guilt him into submission, and then lets rip. Broken Italian follows in a great gush of words aimed his way as she rants and stomps in a circle waving her hands and arms in the air in an overly dramatic gesture. A whoosh of incoherence.
Alexi just turns and downs another drink as though he doesn’t know what else to do, face completely deadpan, and he seems to just shut up shop and go on an instant vacation.
That’s not a good sign. He’s trying to control whatever is about to burst out of him.
I don’t know if he too is about to go nuclear because my mouth and I just can’t help themselves, or whether he is wishing he would just fall down a very deep hole in the next three seconds. Either way, Alexi is also brimming on an all-out explosion and I’m not one hundred percent sure which of us it will be aimed at. He closes up tight, like that little dark enigma he can be, and we get nothing at all of what he is feeling now as he manically starts downing shots. It’s a weighty, sudden pause where all the oxygen is sucked out of the room and I instantly feel faint. The crackle of tension electrifies the room, and it becomes so heavy the atmosphere begins to crush me.
If she is the one he gets his worst side from, then being stuck in the middle of two of the them in this kind of epic outburst is not my idea of a great place to hang out. The fallout might kill me accidentally.
“You have to divorce her! I WILL NOT have this kind of filth in MY family. Do you hear me, Alessandro? I will not let you continue to shame me in this way!! I have been through enough at your hands and I won’t allow this to continue. You dissolve this marriage right now!” She screams it at his back, and he tenses so visibly I tense too and hold my breath as I wait for the first strike of Armageddon to befall this room. I don’t know if it’s static in the air from all the friction or Alexi himself that makes the sizzling noise, but an overcharged current seems to zap me, and I shiver with it. Recoiling inside myself too.
I don’t know what to do beyond my smart-mouthed retort and I am now literally at a loss. Trembling in my shoes and watching him like a hawk, knowing that some form of retaliation will come once he stops downing straight vodka. He downs another and I pray internally. Really worried that he is verging on some sort of self-combustion.
“No, he will not!” The loud commanding bark makes me and her jump a mile high in unison as a tall, familiar figure storms in and slams the front door shut behind him. The noise echoing harshly in the hall and travels towards us, probably alerting the entire household of drama. A look of complete rage crossing that normally peaceful face, and Alexi’s father storms through to this room and towers over his wife as he glares her back into submission. She completely crumbles into a small, feeble act as though he somehow didn’t catch her being an utter prize bitch. It’s clear who wears the trousers in this relationship.
“Our son has chosen a wife, a woman he loves, who is willing to love him unconditionally. I was rooting for them for months and this is how you treat our daughter-in-law on the first meeting? If anyone should be ashamed, it is I with the conduct of my wife. Go upstairs and bring some sense to yourself, woman! I won’t have this anymore.” It’s a thundering, humiliating command and now I’m over here wondering if Alexi really had any chance at all. Commander and chief and scary as shit side clearly came from Daddy, and cold, cruel and sadistic arsehole came from Mummy. He really had zero chance of doing well in the lucky dip gene pool when added to the ADHD thing.
He is one hundred and fifty percent the product of his parents, and as he finally seems to come back into the battle with a look that tells me nothing much at all, his mother whimpers that pathetic snivelling drivel once more. I guess the little broken girl act is meant to make her menfolk back off and mollycoddle her. It’s actually quite pathetic, and I can see why tears had no effect on him that time I was breaking my heart at his feet. She uses them as much as she uses her coldness and made him immune.












