Chapter 2

''Here, just like you wanted ... Today's receipts, invoices from the deliveries, the tips, takings, and the till print off; would you like me to do anything else for you? Seeing as I am obviously not busy in Happy hour with serving customers and running myself ragged with your demands?'' I glare at Luciano, throwing the papers on his cluttered desk, completely pissed that he made me do this on a Saturday night at eleven p.m. In our busiest season with Football playoffs and the bar is heaving since he opened it up to the public in Alexi's absence. Luciano just glares right back with that unconcealed disdain he has for me since I arrived here. The short fat little balding creep has done nothing but rile me up the wrong way and put me down at every turn, from day one. The Camilla of the streets would have romanced him and blown him by now if he was of any value to me in this life but as I have my eye on a much bigger and sexier prize then I am wasting none of my hard-earned flattery on the likes of pencil dick and his complete hatred of women having an equal footing to him. I have been here for almost two months, since I got out of the hospital, and much to my complete disappointment our suave Italian has never reappeared in all that time to give me any sort of direction on what he wanted me to do in this damn club. The place is nothing more than a cheap watered down back alley dive and Luciano couldn't run a treadmill, let alone a nightclub. This place is barely scraping by; I think he knows it too, as requesting tonight's takings several hours early is a sign of desperation. I also have suspicions he has been diddling the takings for weeks, but it's his funeral, and when Alexi shows face, I doubt he won't notice. I wouldn't be dumb enough to steal from him anyway. I never thought I would end up being nothing more than a glorified bartender, but at least Alexi's paying me the wages of a bar manager and the apartment upstairs is both luxurious and free, which is a nice bonus. It's modern, five stars and has two bedrooms in a lovely open-plan layout. Although I suspect the black silk sheeted master suite is his, and never go in there for fear of what I might find; it has something of Alexi in the stark masculine neatness and the locks on the inner door suggest he uses this place for playtime when he stays here. I guess I should see the advantage on being so close to his boudoir, even if he might be a dark man of sinister kinks. It gives me the upper hand on seduction moves. Apart from his room, I have the free run of the whole upper floor in a four-story-tall New York building. We are snuggled in the back, dark depths, of warren-like streets, and my view is limited to windows and brick walls of buildings beside us, but the décor is expensive, clean and airy. I am completely at home in the minimalist lad pad with high tech. No expense spared on the gadgets and entertainment or the fitted kitchen that is perfect for small meals. I can't grumble at landing on my feet this way, I'm just bored with the lack of scope for doing anything other than becoming Luciano's mule for his workload as this place crumbles to the ground around my ears. ''Get out and get back downstairs, go shake your tits at people with cash to spend.'' He growls at me with his crooked teeth on show and those watery blue eyes almost popping out of that loathsome skull. That bulging creepy vein appears over his reddening forehead, signalling I'm pissing him off again. He loses his temper easily this one, and if I had the energy to clean up his mess I would have made the artery pop by now; he's easy to affect, and I reckon I could push all his buttons if I so desired. Wanker! ''They couldn't afford me, hence why I leave dressing like whores to your staff.'' I flick my long harlot red hair at him over my shoulder as I turn on my very high stiletto heel and smooth down my fitted navy shift dress. I was always more of a dress to impress than pop out to show the goods kind of girl. If a man wants it, then he will work for it and pay more. If you put it all on show and let him sample the goods before he buys, then you don't make half as many sales. His staff should really learn the art of teasing and enticing—they would get way more tips. ''You're a cheap slut that Alexi obviously installed here until he's ready for a new fuck buddy. He will use you and kick you to the curb as soon as he's done. Don't get comfy Sweetlips … Alexi has his eye on more pressing issues than women! You're all mere distractions for him, and I for one, cannot wait to see him dump you in the gutter.'' He smirks, pleased with his little put-down and I just laugh sweetly, unaffected by smarmy little imps with penis envy. ''Dahling … green is not your colour; it clashes with your high blood pressure.'' I wink as I wiggle my way out of the office and smirk with the crash of things falling off his desk. He tends to swipe when he's raging, and I probably just gave him twenty minutes of picking up all those papers I just deposited. I'm a tad smug at how effortlessly I get to him, it's been my only amusement these past weeks. I wander out across the cream carpeted open floor of the office level, between the large potted palms, towards the row of lifts. There are two closed offices up here and a bank of monitors behind a huge curved desk in between, where one solitary security guard keeps an eye on the downstairs and other floors. Not that there is much to watch in an empty flat, a storage floor which houses nothing but excess from the bar and dusty boxes or empty rooms. This level has only him and Luciano most of the time, while the bar is only busy from seven p.m. until four a.m. The rest of the time it's closed. The other office is always locked, so I presume it belongs to our missing hunk of the moment and I wonder when the hell that one is going to dazzle me with his presence. My underwear has been feeling considerably tight since I first laid eyes on him and it's wholly frustrating to find something that piques your interest insanely, and then just goes AWOL indefinitely. He spiked my interest and since then I have been having lucid dreams about that man and his sexy body, waking up all hot and bothered and craving sex. That's not like me at all. I pull out my gold swipe card that gives me access to one of the two lifts and all four floors of this building. I noticed when Luciano gave me this the day I arrived, that he has a silver one and I guess it means he cannot access the apartment upstairs; not that anyone can! It's locked with a keypad that the guard had my palm scanned for on arrival. It's very high tech for somewhere Carrero rarely uses, and I wonder why he went to so much expense upstairs but left his club to run in incapable hands and still look like it was decorated in the nineties. It's a complete contradiction to both the man and his apartment upstairs. I wander into the open space of the lift and lean back against the railing, sighing heavily. I can already hear the thrum of downstairs and impatiently run my fingers through my long, straight locks, admiring my reflection as the chrome doors close. I quickly check my flawless makeup and red pout and give my ample breasts a little jiggle in the moulded lingerie to sit higher under my fitted dress. Looking good is an art form that I have mastered. Despite not having anything but long slender legs on show when I work the bar, men just fall over themselves to be served by me. I guess I was lucky to be born with a naturally pretty face that can be a knockout with the right eyeliner and lippy, and a body I work hard to keep toned and fuckable. Experience taught me that I have to live on my looks as much as I do my skills in this cut-throat world I exist in, because women are second-rate citizens among gangsters and completely disposable. We are ten a penny and most women in this world will drop their knickers for any guy with money or a hint of power, so you must stand out as something else. I aim to be more than just another forgettable whore. I have skills and ambition. The girls here all hate me, and I don't really care. I never came here to make friends and technically I am still their boss too, even if Luciano forgets it and treats me like his skivvy. I am harsh-tongued and intolerant, and I am not shy to tell them when they are pissing me off. I must admit though, the bar is running a lot more smoothly since I picked up the slack than when I first arrived. Just small changes to the rota, booze brands and how things are done, have made a world of difference. I could teach them a few things if I could be bothered to up the standard and class to try and pick up the tips a little. I don't see the point though; I'm hoping the bar goes under and Alexi has to find another use for me to work off the money I owe him. I would happily sweat it out under him in any position he required and revel in letting him find interesting ways to extract every last dollar. I could teach him a few boudoir tricks and show him just how good a girl can be with nothing but a tongue and a fair bit of practised suction. I did spend my adult life and half my childhood learning how to work sex to my advantage, and I am not against using every tool in my arsenal to achieve my goal. Alexi would be fun to use it on, seeing as he is the first real crush I have ever had in my life. That man makes me wet just thinking about him. Since that certain tall dark Italian piqued my interest, I have my eye firmly on that rich and powerful package for sure. I can't help the little fantasies I have been having about him. Sex is something I miss, even if it's what screwed me up early in life, and I am more than ready to flex those pelvic muscles in the name of some fun now I have an opponent I've found to be worthy. I got so embroiled in selling other girls to rich men when pushing Tyler's product and surrounding myself with spoiled and fetish-fuelled creeps, that along the way I just lost all interest in fucking anyone. A dick is a dick and when you are facing them shoved your way daily by over amorous arseholes who see you as a vessel for their pleasure and nothing else, it kills the buzz and suddenly your best lay is a battery-operated boyfriend. At least it won't smack you around or push itself down your throat and won't stop until you reach your climax. My ''BOB'' keeps me happy while I avoid disappointing sex and it's less messy on the clean-up. It's also never pushed me into anything I didn't want to do with brute force and I want to avoid any more beatings in my lifetime if I can help it. I have recovered from my fair share, and I am so done with broken bones and fractured limbs. I am lucky that in all the years and all the beatings I have taken I have very few scars and none that you can really see unless you look hard. Most of my scars I carry on my battered soul. I somehow think that Mr Carrero might have a few skills of his own in the bedroom department, and he doesn't strike me as a guy who uses brute force to get his way either. He has persuasive talent and command—I doubt I would say no even if he asked me to let him screw me up the arse on his desk while baldy watched him poke me senseless. Luciano would probably get off on it; I think he has a hardon for Carrero himself and his sexuality is questionable. His homophobic rage over the gay bartender downstairs screams of a repressed desire and I wonder if his wife only married him out of pity. I have heard the bar girls talking about Alexi in the staff locker area at the start of the night shifts. One of the girls used to be his Monday evening boredom fuck—a bit of a kink whore that he tied up and screwed mercilessly. She implied that he likes being in control and likes to be rough … I wonder if we have ourselves a 'Mr Grey' or just a guy who is open to experimentation. Judging by her disappointment that he didn't beat her down or inflict pain to get her off, I can only assume he has lines he doesn't cross, even if he is into bondage. Not all Doms are into beating and whipping, and it sounds like Carrero is more into restraining rather than inflicting pain. He sounds like for him, it's all about submission and control anyway, and I am sure I can get around that. I'm not really into it myself, being cuffed, tied and abused. It's like reliving my youth and I have no space in my head for weak little memories and stupid girls who didn't have the sense to outsmart them. I have my triggers in certain sexual scenarios, and I have learned to avoid anything that sets me off. I guess that is one area he would find me a disappointment because it's a no-go any day of the week, but I have other skills I could distract him with. The doors finally open, and I wander out listlessly, shaking my Tiffany bracelet back down my arm and adjusting my dress as I cross the lobby of the back hall to the bar door distractedly. The noise of the bar seems oddly low, and the house music is off, even though I heard it when travelling down. Now I can only hear hushed voices as though the bar is emptying, and it instantly confuses me. It's not even midnight, and this is normally our craziest time on a Saturday night. What the hell? ''Miss Walters… Nice to see you upright!'' That voice halts every fibre of my being and I pause with a sharp breath, goosebumps and a complete physical reaction that has been missing from my life. It's like having warm water poured right over your head as arousing vibrations run the length of your body. If his voice can do this to me then I wonder what the rest of him would feel like and I can only imagine as my insides erupt in beautiful butterfly type flutters. Turned on with a voice; boy am I going to like being fucked by him. His smooth and husky tone, like liquid heat, pours over me from behind and my skin tingles in anticipation as I turn myself precisely and slowly to greet the one thing I have been waiting for. ''Mr Carrero.'' I give him my best sultry smile and extend a graceful hand, scanning that powerful physique in a pricey tailored suit and tie; he looks all business and immaculate as always. Taller than I remember, even though I am in high heels, so I guess he is over the Six-foot mark easily. He's a long cold drink on a hot sunny day, and my desire is to lick him all over. I have to curb the urge to bite on my lip, while eye raping the shit out of him. I can barely contain myself and my knees are practically pressed together like they are conjoined. He regards my hand for a moment before taking it and politely gives me a firm shake, hand enveloping mine with sheer masculine size. A sign of a real man, one of my regulars used to say—a good strong handshake and eye contact mean you will always know where you stand with someone; except I don't think the rules apply when someone has soulless eyes and a dark depth behind an emotionless face. I kind of get the feeling he is analysing every detail about me and evaluating how to play me. ''You look better.'' He makes an open appraisal of me from feet to face and back again, not shy in letting his eyes scan my figure-hugging outfit. I take a moment to bask in that little success and push out my bust subtly for his eyes doing a return trip, moving closer to let him smell my scent. I spend an age picking perfumes that make men think of sex, and my current wear has been bringing bar humping horny boys to the club every night. Sex is my area of expertise after all and all men can be controlled with varying degrees of it; you just have to figure out the little tells every man has and Alexi, it seems, is a bit of a slender figure man and seems to like what he sees. ''All healed and all forgotten.'' I smile demurely and for a moment he just looks deep into my eyes as though he's trying to pick apart my brain, checking for vulnerability or womanly trembles over my awful ordeal. He obviously doesn't know me or my ability to bounce back up! I have had more beatings than hot dinners, and I am a very live in the moment kind of girl. If you let your past destroy you, then you let it define you, and you may as well lie down and die. With a past like mine, I could either choose to do just that or use every part of it to rise above everything they ever did to me and turn the things they taught me into tools instead and get the upper hand. No use crying over spilt milk and all that. I see the flicker of challenge and stand my ground this time, not the same feeble drugged girl he met in the private room of the clinic his men dumped me in for two weeks. I am back to being me, and power play is part of my forte. I have on my armour; makeup, killer heels and sexy dress with my newly dyed harlot red hair that is like my calling card. Jessica Rabbit was my ironic idol for my look when I made myself over at nineteen. I guess facing the one person I hoped would save me from hell and having them throw me from their property really did wonders for my mental state back then. Thanks Daddy, coming to America to find you was totally worth it. ''So, I see, I wasn't expecting stunning under that mess, and yet here you are … If you don't mind, we need to go back upstairs and see Lucie.'' He extends a hand back towards the lift and I nod graciously, impressed that he isn't shy with saying exactly what he thinks and high fiving myself that he thinks I am ''stunning.'' I guess I have a definite chance of bedding me a Carrero after all. It's more appealing than going back to work the bar anyway. My eyes scan muscular build and my underwear heats up as I get crazily close to that sexy as sin body. He has a way with women without doing very much at all; I guess he must have a hell of a lot of testosterone swirling around to get me this worked up without effort. Usually, it's a lot of self-warming before I get ready to screw someone, and I wonder if he would be like an instant switch for me, a new experience. Most men are not the focus of my fucking, it's normally the act of getting off—but in this case, I think it would be the exact opposite. I most definitely would be focused on the man doing the screwing as much as the act of being screwed. ''By all means, you're the boss.'' I smile seductively. I am going for flirty overkill as his brood of black suited men linger in the hall, and he follows me back into the box I only just exited leaving them standing around like lost children. ''Yes, I am. I'm sorry I didn't come by and settle you into your role, but I had business elsewhere. I'm here now though, and we have a lot to discuss.'' The doors close on us as he swipes his own gold card and I try to stand as close as possible without being too obvious. I learned a long time ago that you have more effect on a man when he can touch you without effort and smell you with each inhale. Lingering within his grasp and making it easy. Arse out, boobs perked, mannerisms full on seductive and the little tell-tale sex arousers are in play. Touching my lips, my hair; my eyes straying to his mouth, so he thinks about kissing me as I glance his way, doing a mental checklist of my ''play to win'' and make him horny techniques. I am firing on all ''fuck me'' cylinders and on the full offensive. I have waited two months for this bad boy to show up, and he is getting the full Camilla treatment on supercharge. I don't waste time when I have my eye on a prize and this one comes with power, money and influence; a nice little puppy in my pocket to do my bidding if I can hone in on his kinks and make all his fantasies come true. Men are like dogs—you find the treats they like, and they can be trained into obedience and loyalty. It has gotten me this far in life so far, and he is like the golden ticket to pastures new. ''Did you enjoy your trip?'' I flutter my lashes with a slight subtle bite of my lip, and I catch the smirk subtly cross his face as it deepens the hint of dimples that only adds to that unearthly gorgeousness he has going on. He relaxes against the wall effortlessly and seems almost amused at my full-on signals. Leaning against me so his body warmth heats my naked arm in my capped sleeved dress. He's unusually warm-blooded even through a suit jacket and I can only hope it means he's hotblooded in the sack. Italians usually are. He's picking up on signals and I'm thinking he might be an easy win. Quick, clever, and clearly well-trained in recognising come-ons. He seems game anyway and it seems he's not so different to mere mortals after all—even if he is a formidable player. ''Miss Walters? '' He eyes me sideways with more of a smirk than a smile and shakes his head lightly, almost a little cutely for someone like him. I hold my breath as he leans achingly close to me, shoulder to shoulder, dipping that huge height to meet my smaller frame a little. I have always had a thing for big men who make me feel delicate, and Alexi does exactly that; a perfect specimen. I inhale that heady spicy aftershave and again have to calm the fire going on in my nether regions at his close proximity. I swear he gives me the walking horn. ''Yes, Mr Carrero?'' I breathe sexily and angle my hip closer in a bid to reach him. Playing coy, lip biting and lifting my chin so he gets the kiss me vibes thrown his way shamelessly. Nothing to stop him going in for the kill, and he looks me dead in the eye, those almost colourless portals to a wicked mind that stir up all my crazy hormones, and yet they lose all warmth in that expression. His smooth, relaxed look, hits on cold and hard in a blink. ''If I wanted to fuck you, I would have done it by now.'' He says it dryly, all hints of charming gone and nothing but a cold tone and icy glare in its place. My jaw drops at the sudden change in him and his assumption he could have laid me at any time of his choosing before now. Even if it might be true from this side of things, it's the assumption that I'm an easy lay before he even got to know anything about me. ''I didn't pay fifty grand for a common whore who tries to seduce me in my own elevator! Drop the act, get it into your head that I have an actual use for you and if you could keep your panties on and your eyes on the goal, we will get along just fine. There's nothing less of a turn on than a woman who throws herself at you so obviously.'' He pushes me away harshly with a fingertip on my shoulder, winding me slightly with such unchivalrous force and steps away, straightening his jacket and flexes his shoulders as the doors slide open. Leaving me completely gobsmacked and standing gawping like a complete moron. He knows how to push my buttons alright; anger buttons, and I am fuming as horny heat is replaced with fiery anger. I just blink at him, my heart pounding, pride wounded and a tiny tremor of rage simmering inside of me like a dull ember trying to catch alight. Breathing hard and just locked on that gaze in a silent war of 'who the fuck do you think you are?' Carrero is an utter fucking arsehole of epic proportions. He is no gentleman at all!!! ''After you …'' He motions out the open door and I push myself up to storm past him with my chin in the air and a defiant frown plastered on my very annoyed face; shaking my head in disbelief that he just blew me off in an extremely unclassy and undignified way. I had him pegged completely wrong. He must be gay; no man has ever turned me down when I am on the charm offensive. Wanker! It's not that I haven't met challenges before, but I have never been given a straight-out rebuff in such a wanker-esque way. ''Sit.'' He commands and catches me by the upper arm as we walk into Luciano's office. Tight enough to annoy me. I glower at him as he almost tosses me into a nearby chair, all chivalrous behaviour has gone south it seems; manhandling me like a piece of meat, and he continues walking to old farts desk in the corner. I notice Lucie pie is up on his feet and sweating like a pig as he stammers out Alexi's name, but I am too busy grumbling over what a prick he actually is. Squirm oinklet … I hope he treats you as shittily as he just did me. Might be the only fun I get out of Carrero starchy pants today. I still can't believe he just humiliated me like that in his goddamn lift. Complete and utter wanker. ''Alexi … I, Mr Carrero … I wasn't expecting you back for a few weeks.'' Luciano looks like he might actually pop that vein on his own and I settle myself comfily into my chair for the show, resigned to sulk a little while he deals with the bane of my life and I unruffle some of my feathers. Alexi walks past him and motions him out of the way with a thumb jerk and then pulls open the desk drawer as Lucie looks ready to pass out. Paling and repelling water profusely, instant panic and sweat hitting full force, the guilt is practically dripping off him in neon flashing waves. ''Where are the books?'' Alexi's tone is harsh, not so much of a snap but not amused as he slams the drawer and pulls the next one out. I am assuming this is him moving into pissed mode, and Luciano knows it. Carrero is on a mission to find them whether Lucie helps or not. ''I moved them … ummm, my accountant …''—piggy is huffing and puffing, and I cross my legs as I start to swing my foot in sheer enjoyment. So much so that I have to curb the satisfied smile aching to overtake my face as I enjoy the show. Nice to see him on the side of being beaten down by someone bigger and more aggressive after bullying me senseless for the past eight weeks—just desserts. I guess Alexi is aware that his nightclub watcher is a completely useless fart of a man after all. ''I pay an accountant to do the books, and they told me you haven't filed anything with them for three months.'' He slams another drawer and physically moves fatty over when he stumbles in his way and I guess this is what pissed Alexi looks like, yet it's hard to tell, as apart from an edgy tone he seems completely in control. Three months? Yet I have been throwing every receipt and paper at Luciano on a daily basis for the past two of those. Interesting! I guess I can forgive him for rebuffing me when he makes the pond scum of my life squirm like a fish on a hook. It's very entertaining. ''I have had my own do it, I can have them ready in a few days.'' More sweat, bigger vein and I swear it's almost ready to explode. I can't take my eyes off of the pulsing expansion that's overtaking his shiny forehead. ''Why would you do that? I want them now. Right … now.'' Very low, cold and precise; that tone I met that first time and even I hold my breath when it hits. I realise that nope, I was wrong and this one here … this is his serious don't fuck with me tone and I guess the psycho switch hovers somewhere within as Luciano turns puce; It's the sinister in the calm … his intimidation is when that slow even deliberate dialect hits. It changes Lucie's whole manner immensely. I figured out Carrero's first tell. When he slows down and goes ultra-calm he's pissed as hell and completely unpredictable. One for the memory bank; a little unnerving and a tad psycho, but I guess it's one to watch for. ''Right now, sure … right this very … Urghhh, I will go get them.'' He moves and turns on his heel making a half attempt at a run from the floor to the door and I wonder where the hell he is going. All the filing cabinets are in here and I doubt his accountant can be reached at midnight on a weekend. Nevertheless, he leaves and a second later we hear the lift ping, alerting us to his departure from this floor. Little Piggy is running away at an impressive speed. Alexi picks up the papers from the desk and starts looking through them, his eyes scanning, oblivious to Luciano's weirdness and I recognise them as the pile I brought up. ''Those are today's up until eleven o'clock.'' I point out and smile when I catch his eyes flicker towards me. He doesn't look warmed by my attempts at play nice and carries on flicking through the receipts. I am trying to let go of my huff in a bid to still win him over, and he should appreciate that; I am not giving up on this puppy just yet, I just need to figure out a better angle to win him over slowly. ''He had them brought up mid-shift?'' He raises a brow and watches me for a moment, questioning, thinking and I shrug as though disinterested in moody men. Well as far as he knows I am anyway. I aim to remove the ''throwing myself at him so obviously'' from his memory banks and try something a little subtler. ''I did as I was told by the sexually repressed little beach ball.'' I shrug, tapping my red nails on the arm of the chair. Alexi just frowns at me before going back to scanning papers, unamused with my jest and I just roll my eyes at him dramatically. No sense of humour anyway. I don't feel as intimidated by him as I did the first time. I guess being bruised, vulnerable and doped up affected my senses and having him turn me down flat has completely pissed me off. He isn't as big and scary as I thought he was. Not in the stark electric lighting of his shitty nightclub anyway. He is just a man; a good-looking, tall and muscular stinking rich man but … still just a man. ''I don't think he's coming back! He's probably jumping a red eye to anywhere but here.'' I lean forward conspiratorially with a hushed tone and this time I swear I see the flicker of a tiny little involuntary smile on Mr Cool's face. He drops it almost immediately, but I know what I saw and get that little sense of victory. Maybe he does have a sense of humour hiding deep in there after all, and I might be able to appeal to that side of him. ''This bar is a drain on my resources. If he has any sense, he will pick somewhere I have no reach and no will to find him.'' I catch the smirk again, sinister this time and do a double take, my face dropping at his completely serious statement. Wait … is he being funny? I really cannot tell if he's joking or if he did make a serious comment about Luciano's very short future life. I feel a little sobered and pipe down, reminded that yes, he is still the same man who stood in the shadows of that room that night and made me almost shit myself. Handsome and fuckable doesn't erase cold-hearted killer with no soul. I need to remember the reputation that precedes this man—he didn't get it from being a pussycat. Wake up Camilla! This isn't some toy you can manipulate for shits and giggles; this is someone who could fuck up your entire life. This is a whole new level of male and behind the charm and seemingly calm demeanour is the man who earned a name for being a complete psychopath among his peers. ''While we wait on him building up some courage to come back and face me, how about we talk about our little arrangement?'' Alexi drops all the papers with a look of disinterest, so they scatter on the walnut desk and sits down in an almost unusually casual way. Propping his feet on arseholes desk and landing his very expensive Italian shoes on top of all the clutter. He unbuttons his jacket and smooths down his tie before coming to settle on my face. Some men really cannot pull off a suit but this one does it with so much ease I cannot imagine him wearing anything else. It's weirdly James Bond, only much sexier. ''About time.'' I smile sassily, impulsively confident, even if my nerves are rattled and throw my leg over the other one, shifting them over to catch his eye in a very precise and sexy way. I catch the little flicker of grey watch my long, shapely legs get comfortable in their new pose, slight and subtle, but he checked them out, and I add it to my little list that he is also a leg man. He's interested for sure, but he likes to chase, not be chased. I guess all the hours I work out, wax, and self-tan, are worthwhile when faced with an Adonis. ''Well … as I told you, I brought you here for a specific purpose in this place, but my priorities took me away from really setting you any sort of task. Luciano has issues with sharing authority, and I can see he has hindered you instead of following my orders.'' He looks way too calm for a guy who's telling me one of his minions disobeyed him. I figured someone like him would not tolerate such disrespectful behaviour and will probably hack his skull off with a blunt object before hanging it in his gallery of decapitated heads. Too many gangster movies Camilla! Get serious. ''Let's just say he obviously missed the memo on rolling out the welcome mats for my arrival at Club Carrero.'' I raise a haughty eyebrow and this time I do get a smirk, an amused subtle smile at my pet name for his venue. The current name on the door is Bravos' Bar and I guess it came with the sale. I hope to God he intends a change in the near future. Alexi just regards me coolly from his casual pose. ''Lucie is family ... unfortunately, by marriage not by blood, and that means I give him some allowances that maybe I shouldn't. He was a temporary fix in a new purchase and now he's sort of part of the furniture.'' He shifts to cross his ankles and slides down in his seat a little more, looking more impressive as muscle bulges a little prominently and I have a hard time keeping my own eyes from scanning him. He could be a poster child for a good gym membership and a personal trainer. He certainly works me into restless impulsive urges to start working out … on him. ''Meaning I am stuck with him.'' I sigh heavily and bring my brain back to the present, dragging my eyes off that very flat and probably rock-solid abdomen. I wonder what he bench presses and get a visual of him pressing on me. Phew! I maybe need to start fanning myself as heat creeps up from my breasts. ''Maybe you should have used some of those feminine wiles on him in my absence, who knows, might have worked to put a smile on his face.'' That eyebrow lift and hint of sarcasm make me grit my teeth. Icing my heating libido, a little. So now he's mocking me? ''Think I'll pass. Lucie doesn't invoke any passion in me. I would rather fuck a corpse.'' I rebuff cattily with an equally raised brow. Annoyed that he just implied I should have made life easier by blowing his fat tubby little reject. Talk about insulting me. He looks at me silently for what feels like a long excruciating moment before tapping his thumb on the desk in a really distracting manner. I can't tell if he's taking me seriously or just bored with the topic. Bored with me; another strike to my pride. ''You've been here two months learning the ropes in how to run a bar nonetheless, now what I want is input on what you would do to this place to turn a profit.'' So, instead of continuing to annoy me, we're onto business and his expression is back to blank. I guess topic changes are his forte when he is bored with a subject and a female. I clearly lack what he is interested in, and it vexes me. I hesitate for a moment wondering how much he wants from me and if this is a test to see how brass my balls are. I'm stuck with him until I pay off my debt, and the only way I can get over that little hurdle of obedience is to make him money fast and thick. Sooner I am out from under that arrangement of servitude the better. Then he will consider me an asset and not a possession and may be more inclined to renegotiating the physical aspect. ''Close its doors for a start to cut its current clientele loose ... redecorate. Inject some cash into the current, tired design and rename it. Work out the clientele you want to cater for, and what perks you want to offer to members. I'm guessing you mean girls, kinks, product, and parties?'' I go for bold and verbalise what has been brewing in my brain the last few weeks as I worked downstairs. He looks impressed, relaxing a little as he squares off his shoulders and slides his tie off easily and smoothly; throwing it on the desk and starts sliding his jacket off too. It's completely distracting in a very temperature raising way—the man has a body that would put a gladiator to shame, and now he is taking off the formal aspects of his attire I am feeling decidedly warm over here and squirming in my chair once again. Lack of hormonal control is very unnerving and new to me. ''My clients want a place to let loose, talk business while being in an environment that caters to their tastes. Women are a must, men too … if they have tailoring to specific fetishes then even better. I have enough product to disable an army, and I intend to put enough security in here to be effective should things get rowdy. I'm talking high profile men with a lot to lose should the goings on in here be leaked in any way. I want professional hookers of both sexes, willing to do anything for the right sum of money and to keep their mouths shut. They won't be expected to do anything against their will.'' Straight to the point and those eyes coming to land on my face as he talks in the most mesmerising way. His accent is just the icing on top of the very gorgeous cake. ''You think I have the contacts to source you high- class hookers who operate in kink? I ran rich girls looking to feed a habit, not a brothel. I have no experience in what you require of me.'' I blurt out, suddenly feeling a little in over my head with what he thinks I can do for him. Disappointed in myself for assuming I had this in the bag. ''You ran sex for cash … effectively, with no comeback for your rich clients. You pushed Tyler's product in interesting ways, earned yourself more than the average street pusher in half the time, and that's what I paid for. You come with style and reputation and one look at you walking down my hall told me I made the right choice. I can summarise the usefulness of people, Miss Walters, and given enough reign I think you have exactly what I need.'' His confidence in me is a little alarming to say the least. I never felt worthy of any sort of compliment like this and now I am not sure I have what it takes for what he is proposing. ''You want my skills, my class and my reputation to provide sex and hospitality in your gentleman's club,'' I repeat just to clarify and try to get my head around this. Heart hammering and palms getting sweaty. ''Yes.'' He doesn't move from his still position and just gives an answer and a hint of a smile. ''But you don't want to fuck me?'' I try for a cheeky smile, a last-ditch attempt at forward, and trying to lose my growing anxiety. Maybe he just needs softening up… or hardening up, both of which I am pretty sure I can do. Either way, I throw it in there with a smile. ''No.'' He just raises a brow at me with a severe look, telling me to drop it and I shrug it off. Not about to give up but knowing when to bide my time and work a little harder in a subtler way. He clearly doesn't like pushy women when it comes to sex—he wants to be in control and be the pursuer … guess I will have to bring out the demure act and entice him in other ways. Carrero you are frustrating as hell. ''Had to be crystal clear on the perks of my arrangement.'' I wink naughtily in a bid to smooth over that prickly demeanour and get nothing in return. He completely blanks it. I guess I will be working on my merits alone and not on my back. Urghh! ''You'll be paid well, more if you make more… still have use of the apartment upstairs, although I will be staying occasionally in the next few weeks while in the city. The more you bring in the faster you pay off your debt with me. When it's paid off, we will talk again about your time with me here in this club and a new deal that may benefit us both, providing you work well and impress me.'' Carrero is very good at sticking to business and ignoring my wit, even if I was only half joking. However, I like that there is a chance at long-term involvement when I am no longer under his thumb per se. I imagined this was going to be the worst kind of deal, but it's sounding sweet to me. I get to utilise what I am already good at without worrying about keeping the funds coming in at all, plus a pretty little paycheck and free housing. I just need to try and work around the details that I have no experience in and make him see how worthwhile I can be. It's making me nervous, anxious, but I have nothing to lose. Maybe Mr Mob isn't as fierce as everyone says he is. This sounds reasonable to me and so far, he seems like a bit of a kitten that just has a grumpy side. That, I can get used to, and learn to work around; maybe he just lacks a sense of humour and is a bit of a starchy pants. He has to have some flaws in his genetic makeup somewhere. ''Purely a business arrangement, not quite what I was expecting, Mr Carrero.'' I flutter my lashes his way for good measure and try not to fixate on how sculpted and kissable a mouth he has while gazing at it, but it is very, very hard. Especially after dealing with the likes of Tyler and his expectancy of a blow job every time I picked up my stash. The guy was a three-minute wonder under my skilled lips, thank God. ''Yeah well, organised crime is still a business, and I am all about profit and utilising my assets. I'll have a designer come by this week to start going over the interiors and rooms on the second floor. I want all the extra space sectioned off into private rooms for clients' playtime and a second floor VIP lounge, themed and tailored for a variety of X-rated, plus the basement cleared for storage to free it up. I will put new security in on the office floor, and down there.'' Back on the point and oblivious to how much I am salivating over those shoulders every time he moves a tiny inch. ''Lucie is not going to like that at all … ruining his little man cave and turning his shitty dive into something that outclasses him, even if it is filled with whores.'' I point out and force myself to look around this badly decorated room rather than on mentally undressing the man across the room. ''Lucie does what he's told, and now that I'm back that will be silently and with a smile. Now go get your ass upstairs while I find where he's hiding and speak to him about my accounts. I'll be up soon to continue our discussion over a drink in comfier surroundings.'' The bossy tone of a man who is used to commanding people, and he wastes no effort in softening the tone. Wait, what? No fucking me, but go upstairs and I'll be up soon? I know he is a man who obviously gets what he wants, and that probably means women too, but I am not a puppy he can boss around and expect obedience, especially for no reward. It riles that inner defiance in me, and I eye him a touch haughtily. ''Upstairs?'' I eye him up, sliding myself to standing as gracefully as I can muster, and this time he doesn't hide the way his eyes travel up every inch of me with open appraisal once more. He isn't shy about checking me out, and that can only work in my favour. I think maybe he's a fan of less modest clothing, and this one might need some riskier styling to pique his attention. I happen to like my style, so not sure I want to go to all that effort, as maintaining it will get arduous and I made a deal with myself to not change for any man ever again; even him as alluring as he is. I have no desire to dress up and dumb down just to bang Alexi. ''Figured if we are going to be dealing with one another through the changes of my club and trusting you with my most prized clientele, then maybe we should get better acquainted; drinks upstairs, discussion, fine details!'' He still looks completely serious and I smile sexily. He may be saying that sex is off the table, but his eyes tell a different story when he wanders up over my body in a way which screams ''I want to see you naked.'' ''Maybe there's hope for you yet,'' I answer breathily and turn on my heel, giving him a full eyeful of a perfect wiggle as I stroll away, catching sight of Lucie trailing back in from the lift and looking like he's about to get his arse handed to him in a paper bag.