Chapter 6

After an extended time in the bathroom and missing a lot of that infernal noise out there, I smooth down my dress, touch up my face and make my way back out into the narrow empty hall of the theatre. The corridor is deserted while the performance carries on and I take a moment to catch my breath and linger, not quite ready to go back to playing nice and thrusting my boobs at Mr Mayor just yet while fending off his wandering hands. I just need a few moments to regroup and plaster on that seductive face and fake smile. Alexi has no idea how hard this act is to keep up long term when the object of your fake desire turns your stomach inside out. I catch sight of the man himself walking towards me and sigh heavily, turn on my heel and walk back into the ladies' room, hoping he hasn't seen me. He was looking sideways and not down this way as though trying to figure out where the bathroom was, and I hope I didn't draw attention by sliding back in here. I intend to hide and wait for him to go into the men's room further down the corridor before I go back out and high tail it back to Alexi. Maybe a quiet word and chair switch will be on the cards until he has his little man chat and underhanded agreements sorted out. This isn't fun at all. I have no desire to be walking alongside him, cosily back to Alexi. Even though he brought me here for this I know it should be done under his watchful eye. He's anal about that shit after all. Mr Control and suspicion, he trusts no one. If I walked back there, arm in arm with the creep, Alexi would probably throw me off the balcony. I drop my clutch bag back on the counter and look at my reflection while letting out a breath, aiming to count to fifty before walking back out, trying to return to serene and calm. I hope I miss him and get back to my seat first. I'm tired already and this game isn't enjoyable; It's only fun when it is men of my choosing, my goal, my control and the consequences are completely down to me. Alexi makes this stifling and knowing he has boundaries on how far these men can go makes me antsy. He just adds so much weight to my nerves and having the factor of a psychotic man about to erupt should someone cross one of his rules makes me wish I could just leave. A month in his presence has taught me that you do not fuck with him. For all his calm and cool control and sometimes charming demeanour, there's an underlying vibe that Alexi is not someone who would think twice about ending someone's life in a slow and painful way. He doesn't seem to just go making orders to pop anyone off, but it is there, in the depths that you know he does sometimes. It's inevitable in this business that he oversees distasteful decisions like that, and I have no doubt he is a man who has taken care of a few things with his own hands. He's a killer for sure. I jump when the door swings open and giggle at my stupidity as someone walks in to use the bathroom, forgetting where I was for a moment. I halt with frozen surprise though, breath catching in my throat as I catch Demagio's reflection in front of me, grinning like a Cheshire cat at me from the doorway and realise it was me he was looking for after all and this just went from awkward to serious very quickly. ''Surprise. See, I took your little signal and came out to have a little fun.'' He slurs crazily, swaying on his feet, and I just gawp at him, swallowing hard in complete panic and disbelief as my insides drop to my feet. This man is clearly a sandwich short of a picnic and has no clue how dumb of a decision this is. I most definitely did not signal him to follow me for a bathroom quickie. Shit, the idiot is going to get us both killed! Blood drains from my face, body turning cold as he walks in further and I turn and move away, backing myself against the counter with nowhere else to go. Flirt mode switched off and self-preservation fully enabled. I can read very quickly that NO is not in his vocabulary, and he thinks I owe this to him. He is in a frenzy of ''I want to get laid'' and there is no talking him out of that. Thank you, Alexi, for playing the man your way and changing the outcome of how he behaved. This is why I suss them out first. ''I don't know what you thought I was telling you to do, but you're wrong. Alexi would kill us both. I'm his and he is very clear on things like this.'' I try for calm and controlled but my voice wobbles and he's fast to get in my face, running a hand over my breast possessively as he cages me into the corner I have managed to put myself in. I keep calm, even though my insides are crumbling, and my heart rate has elevated to epic proportions. Body vibrating with instant adrenaline and I shove his hand away from pawing at me; my skin burning and recoiling from the unwanted touch. ''You have been giving me the come on and a hard-on for the last half hour. I want you and you want me; he'll never know. Just pull up your dress and I'll make this memorable.'' He grabs my throat harshly to hold me still and tries for a kiss, but I twist free and manage to slide out from the corner and in turn him, trying to get away with minimal fight. He is too quick though and grabs my wrist hauling me back aggressively. He is drunk, stinking of strong booze and it's clear from his glazed eyes and slurred speech that all rational thought is gone and the last thing on his mind is Alexi Carrero. ''No … Alexi will snap. He will flip out like you have no idea. You don't know what he is capable of.'' I try defensively, but he just comes after me, relentlessly holding on and yanking me towards him, no matter how much I twist and turn and try to wrench my arms free. ''So, you're a cock tease? Like to get men horny and then won't follow through? A fucking whore; a fucking teasing, trashy little bitch! '' His smile and charming expression drop like a lead weight and the grip on my wrist's bites cruelly. This unassuming little fat man has an aggressive side and I just walked right into an inevitable fight. I have limited strength even against someone as short as him, so I go for diffusion instead; sweet voice, calming tones and trying to struggle less. As much as I hate him internally, and my body is screaming to kick and run, I am trying for calm and controlled. ''I don't know what you're talking about. I was merely being friendly, you seemed like a very nice man and now I'm going back to my seat and Alexi. Let's just forget all about this. He doesn't need to know about this silly misunderstanding.'' I try to get free discreetly, but he jerks me back to him rapidly so I fall against his torso, off my high shoes with a stumble and try to right myself. Heart pounding as adrenaline spikes higher and I know that this only has one outcome. I know from experience I can never fight men off, no matter how unfit they are, and it won't be the first time I have been held down and taken against my will. Less of a fight means it's over faster and with less damage to my body. I can regain some control of the situation if I play along and allow it. More fight gives me a chance of getting free, although it is unlikely, and I won't walk out unscathed. He will rape me, and God knows what else in his fury if I make this harder for him. FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! Damn you Alexi! ''I don't think so. You and I, we're going to have a little fun and you're going to keep your mouth shut or I tell him how you came into the men's begging me to fuck you. He will never believe a whore over me. We go back a long way him and me.'' He looks completely insane, sloppy speech, eyes red-rimmed and clearly very intoxicated as I shake my head, swallowing hard and twist once more to get free in a last-ditch attempt. ''Alexi knows I'm not that dumb. He doesn't have friendships, he has acquaintances. and he will still kill both of us. Even if I did seduce you! YOU are not that dumb. Think about this. Think about your daughter out there, sat with a man who kills for a living and what he will do to us.'' I can't get my arm free and this time he jerks me back and grabs me by the hair with biting force, bodily throwing me back against the wall to my side and winding me in the process. He takes away all my rational thought and instinct kicks in with his flash of violence, heaving for breath and ignoring the waves of aching pain flowing through my bones from the impact. I used to become submissive and docile when attacked, limp and cooperative so it would minimise what they did to me, but somewhere in the last couple of years and freeing myself from that life I have found a fire. Men don't have a right to touch me this way anymore and I will be damned if I am going to take this lying down. I am not that little girl I used to be and men do not have a right to take what they want of me with force. Never again! I swore when I got free that I would be in control and never let this happen again. I start to fight back, hitting at his arms with bunched fists as he lets my wrist go to shield his face with one hand and starts hauling my dress up savagely, fabric ripping at the seam. His hands are suddenly everywhere. I'm fighting him, pushing his grasping fingers from my breast as he tries to tear one free from its confines and twisting my face as he tries to bite and kiss me. It's like he has more limbs and speed than me and I cannot keep up battling them all at once. He's a bastard, not the sweet easy manipulated old man he seemed to be, and he's bloody strong. I'm thrashing about in a bid to fight him off, but he chokes me with a sudden grab, and I grasp at his fingers around my throat, clawing to catch my breath, instantly unable to swallow or breath. Half coughing in a bid to get some air into my lungs. Being held by the throat seems to be the universal way to control a woman and it triggers more of my fight to the death instinct. I try to kick and lash out, but my dress is too restricting and his fat body pounding mine against the wall as he tries to get his hard dick against me is stopping me from freely moving. He's yanking at his trousers trying to free himself before he takes another try at my dress. It seems he isn't happy with our position and once again bodily mauls me. He drags me with him in frustration and throws me against the countertop, so I fall back on it, my legs kicking up automatically and I know that is what he was hoping for. A better way to get my dress up and knickers off; he grabs one ankle as I try to make a dash to get down, and he pulls me around effortlessly. The sliding marble counter against a satin dress just made me more manageable, and he has the upper hand, putting his body between my legs as I slap out and try like crazy to fight him off. He's all over me like a leach or an octopus with endless hands and a sucker like grip on me and I scratch and gauge as hard as I can while gritting my teeth and aiming all my aggression at him. I will not let him do this to me. I manage to pull myself further up somehow so my back slides up the mirror and my arse is perched over a sink which gives me a little unusual leverage, my knees nearer his front than around him as my dress is too tight for him to yank them open without getting it up first. I try to drag them round to push him off and aim a bite at the hand on my wrist, scratching my nails down his face desperately and aiming for his eyeballs. I have no scruples in a fight and will use any dirty method or trick to win. I have had enough cat fights in my life to learn there are a million ways to gauge, maim or injure an opponent with minimal effort. I'm rendered dazed as a slap catches me out of nowhere and I'm thrown sideways, bashing my head into the tiled wall before slumping down on top of the sink below me. I somehow end up face down in a weird position for a second, disorientated with the impact; momentarily knocked for six as I try to get my wits back about me. He's pulling my dress up from behind this time and pulls me bodily to him making it very clear he will fuck me from behind as soon as he gets access but I won't give in. This right here is a huge trigger in itself. I cannot be taken from behind. Panic and fear envelope me like a red haze. Adrenaline spikes, fury and self-preservation and sudden strength bursts from nowhere; spinning on the slippery countertop to face the little prick, I claw at his face again aiming for his eyes fully and digging my nails into them with a venomous effort. Hallelujah for sharp acrylic nails and their freakish strength and durability. He lets out a roar of pain and punches me square in the face in a bid to stop my assault, knocking me back but it's a feeble hit this time and it only serves to fuel my rage. In the seconds of his moving back I scramble myself upright into the sitting position once more. Spitting blood out of my mouth I use my back against the mirror behind me to bodily push him as hard as I can this time, putting everything I have behind this one almighty shove; levering my knees until I get my feet on his torso and use both hands and feet with all my might and hope my stiletto stabs him in the process. I push with every ounce of strength and speed I have, aiming to both get him off me and damage whatever ribs he has behind that chubby torso in the process. He falls back hitting the toilet door dramatically with a loud thud as it swings open behind him, and he tips over in a drunken slump over the toilet bowl backwards. That gives me a chance to get free. His body dumped like a sack into an ungraceful heap as he lets out a muffled moan and I see my escape. Grabbing my bag, realising he's ripped my dress as it flaps in front of my breast, exposing a strapless red bra. I hitch it up, jump down and run for the door like a bat out of hell. No hesitation in getting out of here like lightning. I am an expert in running away in high shoes, even if I end up breaking an ankle and I can hyperventilate and freak out when I am miles away from this creep. Opening the main door in a complete panic, hot liquid running down my face while one of my eye sockets burn painfully and gasping for air; it feels like my face is swelling with heat and pain but it's the least of my problems right now. I am intent on just fleeing the scene, and as I do so, I run smack bang into the wall of warm hardness, unshakeable muscle with both shock and disastrous results, known as Alexi Carrero. I literally fall back into the bathroom onto my arse with a dramatic thud that sends me sliding into the wall behind in the most ungraceful way ever. Winded, rendered immobile and completely speechless. I can only gawp at him from down here. He looks at me utterly surprised through the open door and then up and past me as Demagio comes thundering after me clumsily and freezes like a statue as soon as he sees Alexi staring back at him. Summarising very quickly what he is seeing, his face hardens into an unmistakable scowl. I can't catch my breath, blood filling my mouth and running down my face. I have a bloody nose and a bust lip from what I can feel, and every part of my head is starting to throb. My hair falling in my eyes from my updo and I know it must be obvious what just went down here. Alexi is quick on the uptake, even on a slow day, and I sure as hell never did this to myself. My dress is ripped in several places, I probably look like I just climbed through some hedges and I certainly didn't deliberately add a bloody mess to my makeup for added ''vavoom.'' ''Alexi … I swear she came onto me and …'' Demagio is back tracking, stuttering and stammering with fear. Fucking lying little prick! Finally, the guy has the sense to realise what he has done as I sit on the floor just trying to get my wits back and myself into some sort of sitting position. Not easy when your dress is like a second skin. I can't move really. Dizzy, winded and aching all over as it all catches up with me in one painful moment. This is going to hurt like hell in the morning. Alexi doesn't say a word, his face returning to cool and blank. Eerily he just steps towards me, bends and catches me by the waist with both of his strong hands to pull me up into his abdomen and cradles my face with one of them, tilting my chin as he scans all of me with a completely unreadable expression. He gives nothing away to how he is going to react. He is in that ''show nothing'' mode and I just tremble under his scrutiny, relieved that he has intervened. It's weirdly gentle and even though I can't stand him any other day of the week, right now I suddenly feel safe in his arms. Like I know it's over, and he won't let anything else happen to me—it completely confuses me. No man has ever made me feel safe, especially not one like him, who probably has the capabilities to do a hell of a lot more damage than most. Yet standing in the crook of his arm, under his protection, I know Demagio has no chance in hell of touching me again, and he's not about to flip out at me for this either. We are in the female toilets; it's obvious who followed who in this and a bloody nose doesn't normally follow something consensual. Alexi isn't stupid by any means. "You laid hands on her … on my woman; on my property?" He says it so calmly and slowly it puts the fear of God into me, his eyes trained on me, not breaking eye contact and I just stand completely frozen, with my breath held as my body turns to liquid in his embrace. His focus is clouding over as his grey eyes darken slightly and the tiny tensing of a muscle in his jaw are the only hints of his rage building underneath his mask. It's not aimed at me but even I begin trembling. It's his sinister low and even tone of inevitable psycho. Jesus Christ. Demagio is going to get it now. ''Alexi, I'm drunk and stupid and … I thought it was what she wanted. She kept teasing me and giving me come-ons …'' Demagio sounds like he's about to cry and I cannot tear my eyes away from the soulless greys keeping me rooted to the spot. Alexi is giving nothing away, just so steady and in control and that's what is most unnerving. His eyes on mine, and he has me mesmerised in a trance of unease. The withering mess of man behind me is proof that Alexi's reputation isn't just a myth. If the man claiming to have known him a long time having a mental breakdown is anything to go by. I swear he has started bubbling and out of the corner of my eyes I see him drop to his knees to beg. I catch a glimpse of black from the corner of my eye as one of Alexi's men appears behind him, and he finally looks away from me, breaking his spell but keeping me up close against him protectively. My body shaking and clinging to him for support even though on any normal day of the week I would not be getting up close and personal for anything! ''Take Marcus outside; I'll be a minute. I want to talk to him.'' He moves me aside, hand still around my waist keeping me pinned to him, so he holds my full weight, still cradling my jaw with a gentle hand and doesn't react when the man sweeps past us at speed. Demagio is still stammering apologies and avoiding looking my way. Alexi's men are practically dragging him as he offers no resistance. Begging like a little bitch to be spared. I hope Alexi kicks the utter shit out of him and cuts off his balls. The last black suit follows, and I can hear the voices stray further down the corridor until they are hushed tones in the distance and Demagio's begging whiny tone is barely audible. I have no idea what he's going to do but I can guarantee it won't happen in the opera house, so publicly. He will have him removed somewhere private instead and deal with him in his own time. Alexi lets go of my face and puts his hand into his inner pocket, bringing out a white folded handkerchief and presses it to my mouth firmly, stemming the blood that was making its way down my chin. I lift my hand impulsively, to cover it, and hold it instead. His hand underneath mine feels different, even though it's not the first time we have had physical contact, somehow the intimacy of this pose and what just happened has me feeling out of whack, and his touch right now is doing weird things to my nerves. He is calming me effortlessly, soothing me, and we just seem to stand for a moment locked in a gaze before he says anything. It's almost as though everything else fades out and all I am aware of in this second is his close proximity and those eyes reaching deep into my soul. ''Here. Compose yourself and fix your appearance, I'll be outside. Take your time, as much as you need. I'll wait.'' He says it so softly, so non-Alexi and I melt with some weird relief that he's not angry at me and being weirdly human and warm. I feel like we are in another dimension, to be honest. One where Mr Emotionless has a hint of gentleness and care and instead of hating on him, I suddenly want to curl up against him and let him make it all better. I must be drunk! He finally lets me go as I cover the cloth with both my hands, letting me loose on my own shaking legs and pausing for a moment to make sure I can stand unaided. Closing the door behind him when he lets me go, so I'm locked in here alone, back in complete silence and blinking in disbelief at how this just went down. I know no one else will get in here if he is standing outside and I let out a long slow breath of relief. My life is always drama and violence. I completely sag against the wall and sink a little. Overcome with adrenaline and yet complete confusion. That moment was almost tender, Alexi was almost kind and it completely threw me. He's the devil incarnate who doesn't have a heart, yet he didn't seem that way right now, he seemed almost nice and genuinely concerned about me. Who knew he could be so gentle with his touch? I trace my fingers over where he held my face and can still feel his heat tingling there. No idea why his touch could leave a mark more effectively on my skin than what that arsehole just did to me and I push it away. Unnerved by something so stupid and shake it off. I straighten myself up and walk back to the vanity, catching sight in the mirror of the chaos I'm in. My hair is falling down badly, pulled and messy, my face bright red and swelling on the left side. My lip is split, and my nose is bleeding from the impact of the punch. I run his handkerchief under cold water and press it to the areas that are swelling, trying to get myself under control, and trying not to baulk at the mess that arsehole has made of my face. I'm enraged that he's ripped my new four-thousand-dollar dress and has ruined it completely! I manage to tuck the torn fabric into my bra, so it at least looks like it's meant to be and not like its hanging off, and pull my hair down, so it falls in soft waves around me, concealing a lot of my injuries instead. I rummage in my bag and use whatever makeup and wipes I can to clean myself up and limit the obvious damage. Hiding and tidying all signs of anything amiss, so I can get out of this building with no one asking questions. Alexi doesn't like attention directed his way and this would draw a lot of concerned looks. I'm a dab hand at this kind of quick clean-up; I should be a complete pro at hiding bruises and cuts on minimal tools at short notice. I spent the first nineteen years of my life doing this on a daily basis at either my mother's hands or the sea of men that came after. Sadly, my first lesson in makeup was how to cover a black eye at a stupidly young age. I take about ten minutes more, tucking and adjusting my dress to conceal the damage and smooth out the torn seams to sit flush before I finally venture outside as tidy as I can be. Nerves are also evened out with my respite and I feel a little surreal but completely back in control. Shaken but not stirred, as 007 would say. My life taught me the art of quick recovery. Alexi is leaning against one wall further down the corridor alone and looking very suave in his black tuxedo, like a man who belongs in grand buildings like this every day of his life. He's typing on his phone and glances up when he realises I am venturing out towards him, sliding it inside his jacket and casting a smooth look my way. His black shadows are nowhere to be seen, and he pushes himself off his leaning post, walking towards me to close the gap. I have to admit, he still looks pretty screwable any day of the week and even more so right now that I clearly have some sort of hero complex over him. His eyes scan me as he slides a hand under my hair and cups my cheek to pull my face up to him once more in an easy commandeering movement. I guess he wants to investigate the damage on show, probably checking I can pass without drawing eyes our way as we leave before he allows me to try. ''I hate men who think that it's okay to hit women.'' He says it so matter-of-factly that it completely takes me by surprise. An unchecked statement said without thought and I blink at him in half belief. ''What? Aren't you some sort of kinky sadist who gets off on this shit?'' I baulk at him, and he just frowns at me as though I said the most absurd thing; letting my face go and smoothing down his jacket while putting a little space back between us. That weird giddiness from his close proximity is still swirling inside of me and I try to ignore it and not over analyse it. The body does weird things to your emotions when you have had a shock or traumatic moment and it's nothing more than that. An adrenaline high and a rush of emotional state. ''I don't get off on inflicting pain on women no, I like control and sometimes restraint, but I don't believe in violently dominating an unmatched sex. Everything I do is consensual and relatively pain free, there is more pleasure in offered submission than taking what you want forcibly.'' He says it so seriously. I have to laugh at the irony in that statement, coming from him. He sounds normal but there's a slight look on his face that suggests he is brooding over a pissed off mood and maybe now is not the time to point out the complete contradiction to who he is in what he just said. It is, however, completely blowing my mind; really uncommon in the rich and powerful, especially one who has a thing for BDSM and severe control issues. I am speechless and literally do not know what to say. Not what I envisioned of sinister sexy Alexi at all. Maybe he does have a touch of human decency in there somewhere. ''Are you okay? Do you need me to have my doctor check you over?'' He startles me with an even more unexpected question and now I know I must be dreaming. Alexi concerned? I swear I have fallen into an alternate universe, blinking at him as though he has two heads and just shake my head at him, brushing my reaction from my face. ''I am made of a lot tougher stuff than that, I have also bounced back from a lot worse. I'm not a withering flower Alexi; you can stop worrying I may keel over with dramatics.'' I point out and smooth out my own attire one more time as though to prove the point. I would never admit that it has left me shaken and a tad fragile, but I am someone who will move on quickly. I don't need weird mollycoddling from King Mafia over here. Alexi seems to gaze for a long moment in silent thought. Unreadable as usual and I just dismiss overthinking it. He is good at scrutinising and making you feel like he has you under a microscope and I just stand taller and throw on a face that says ''I'm totally fine.'' ''Shall we?'' He nods down the corridor after a moment, clearly letting it go for now, motioning we should leave, and I agree with a practised smile. ''What are you going to do to him?'' I ask meekly, changing the subject. He moves his hand extending an arm that hints I am supposed to take it and I obey modestly and silently. I don't get why suddenly he's being so chivalrous and almost—dare I say it—caring. I think Carrero must be drunker than I thought or maybe he really does think I am about to faint. I slide my arm further, so it fits snugly in the crook of his and nestle against his side, trying to ignore the sense of calm suddenly enveloping me. I don't like it in any way shape or form, or that he has an ability to make me feel this way and once again put it down to the after-effects of mild trauma. He rescued me; therefore, I am obviously finding some safety in his presence, nothing more. ''I haven't decided yet. I'll wait till he's sober and grovelling and use it to my advantage. I never got around to securing those favours, but I guess now I have an angle and you can put your cleavage away again.'' He smirks at the last part and I just roll my eyes at him. Really loses all touch of humanity taking a cheap dig at a girl who has just been messed up and assaulted in a bathroom. I was wrong, Alexi is still a prick. ''Gee, thanks Dahling … Nice to get permission to pack away parts of my own body now you are done objectifying them for your own gain.'' Sarcasm and dryness to my tone and I fall in step with him as we leave this hellhole behind. My face smarts but I have more than enough ability to act like it doesn't. I am minorly pissed that he is making jokes already; if I was a lesser kind of girl I would be traumatised, sobbing and probably giving full on dramatics right now. He has no idea how lucky he is that I bounce back and get on with it in super pronto time. ''I love the irony. Seeing as you sold girls for sex to support yourself for the last two years.'' He looks serious, combative over my statement and I just glare right back. ''Women cannot objectify women. I just gave them an offer they couldn't refuse. You, however, just tell me what to do and spit your dummy out if I don't. You just got me into a position where I couldn't control the outcome. YOU are the one who just put me in danger.'' I point out boldly and lift my chin at him defiantly. Not about to back down over this topic at all! Alexi at least has the grace to shrug and nod, he knows he cannot argue with that. If it had been on my terms and left to be manoeuvred my way, then it would never have gone the way it did. You do not work a sex-starved creep into some sort of wild frenzy within minutes of meeting them; you take it slow and win them over emotionally first. ''You're right, and I apologise. It won't happen again.'' Still effortlessly deadpan and I just follow his lead as we walk, dropping something I do not want to talk about anymore. What's done is done and I have learned to never linger on this kind of shit or else it just fucks your head up. Get over it and move on, look forward and keep going, it's worked for me so far and I won't fix what isn't broken. Alexi falls into companionable silence as we move and it's odd that I don't feel awkward about the lull in conversation. He does silence very well when he wants too, and I fall into step with his easy stride. Sort of glad of it really. I don't feel like chitchat. It's even weirder walking arm in arm with him so cosily and close. My naked skin on his smooth expensive tuxedo covered arm, walking out like any normal couple who have gone out on a date. I'm held tight to his body and trying to conceal my face and worst parts of my torn dress by using him as a shield. I feel surreal and lower my face as we pass suited staff wandering around in the main lower floor when we leave the corridor. ''I was wrong … about the hair. You look better when it's down.'' He adds in afterthought and I blink at him with more than a stirring of suspicion. ''Why are you being so nice? It's making me nervous! You don't do nice so what do you want?'' I glance at him sideways and catch a tiny flicker of tightening muscle in his jaw. It's either a thwarted smile or an irritated grimace. Who can tell with him? ''I just got you roughed up because I wanted you to play a safe bet for me. I happen to feel responsible for the way it played out and like I said, I have no patience for men who use force on weaker opponents. This wasn't part of the plan and I detest when I don't predict an avoidable outcome.'' Irony as I'm sure he pounds down weaker men all the time. Who knew Carrero would be a soft touch for women under all that cold indifference? I still don't know what to think about his little revelation; this doesn't fit the image he exudes daily. It certainly doesn't fit the way he behaves towards any of us; controlling bastard with zero tolerance to disobedience. He talks down to his little bedroom buddies anytime he brings one upstairs, and God knows what he does to them when he gets them in his bed; contradiction entirely. ''It's not my first beating. I am practically immune to men slapping me around and exerting their dominance. I'll heal, I always do.'' I say it impulsively. That mouth of mine working faster than my brain, and he halts; turns to me with a hint of darkness in his eye. ''That's not admirable, or right in any way. You belong to me now. No one will ever touch you that way again.'' That soft tone he used in the bathroom, and I am rendered mute as the palest grey eyes lock on mine in some weird silent communication I have no way of deciphering. Carrero is a complete enigma to me, and I am totally out of my depth every time we connect. 'Complex' should have a picture of him next to it in the dictionary. He leans in and strokes my hair from my face, runs a thumb over my swollen bruise forming lips so softly it makes my body tingle. Caught in complete surprise and glued to that flawless face and not sure how to feel at all as my insides dissolve into water and trickle away. I am powerless at this moment and can't catch a breath. ''I don't ever want to see you marked like this again.'' My heart literally stops beating, and he seems to flinch at his own words, stepping back suddenly, almost as soon as they are out of his mouth and completely lets me go. It's like watching a curtain fall fast and that gentle glimpse of something shuts hard and fast as his face smooths over. He seems momentarily at a loss himself and I guess he didn't mean to say it at all. ''Let's go back to the club; you should go to bed with pain relief. Put some ice on for swelling.'' He seems reluctant to get too close again and I for one am a little glad. Whatever that was right there, it made me afraid. Uncomfortable with affections and in no way in hell do I want to explore anything that makes my body react like he does. I swore at fifteen I would never let a man into my heart or my head the way my mother did, and I am not about to let someone like him be the first. I see what happens when women let their emotions overrule logic, and they become victims of their own heart. Well, mine died a long time ago and I'm sure that not even electric shock therapy could restart the beating of my cold dead organ. I'm an empty shell of soulless unfeeling and I have no desire to root around in the depths and darkness of my lost soul to find a little burning ember of giving a shit. I'm incapable of feeling. Giving a toss about anyone but yourself is how you get yourself fucked up in a fate worse than death. It's how you let people both hurt and disappoint you. I have no desire to ever try it.