I’m willing the minutes away until we get to this damn building. Alexi goes back to his call and I can tell it’s Mico on the other end when I actually listen to what he is saying. Trying to focus on something other than my own mental breakdown and breathe slowly in through my nose to push the anxiety attack further away.
“She will forgive me, eventually. Might cost me a divorce though.” He winks when he catches me watching him and my face flushes at how easily he is joking about this. It’s surreal that he just doesn’t get it.
His mood isn’t on the negative side even if he is in cool and controlled mode, but I guess it’s because we are on our way to a business appointment. Alexi wears different masks for different scenarios and likes to get in character and the right mindset before getting there. He might just be cheerful about buying something new and putting this issue aside while he focuses on what he is doing.
That’s what he does, and I know this. He has always separated the emotional aspect from business and put one aside when needed.
I don’t get why he isn’t more freaked out like me over this whole marriage thing though. Alexi is literally the biggest commitment-phobe on the planet and had no intention of shackling himself to anyone, ever. He didn’t even rate women as worthy of constant companionship before us.
How can he not understand how huge and terrifying all of this is?
He smirks as he listens to his right-hand man, looking irritatingly handsome in his casual attire and well-groomed appearance. Relaxed, confident and very much still the wolf-like sex god I met in the first days of life with Alexi. Getting to know this nicer side has never taken away from that badass persona and panther-like demeanour he has going on. If anything, knowing him the way I am beginning to only makes me realise how effortlessly suited to his world he is and none of it was ever an act. He really is a straight up gangster.
“Well, she dislikes Mrs Carrero immensely, so maybe stick with Camilla. Yeah, hates it more than London.”
Ha fucking Ha.
So now they’re joking over what to call me. I whip my hand out and stick my middle finger up at him in an unladylike retort and frown grumpily his way. Still agitated and all over the place.
“Tosser.”
He just smiles at me, dimples and charm oozing over me and I try to ignore the little internal flutters they still give me. Hints of him relaxing and the hostile snap at me earlier is fading away. His move back to a sunnier disposition is unwittingly calming me down.
I riled him with my reaction and Alexi does what he does, gets hostile and bites back because I know you have to handle him a certain way. It’s a circle with us. I bite, he bites, I bite harder and so on until something gives. Alexi took another route and has been trying to diffuse us away from fire and hell hath no fury, knowing this is what we do. He’s trying to combat it.
Another hint that I’m just overreacting and should just talk to him about what I’m feeling, instead of pushing him away and hating him for my messy head.
Damn him.
“Yup that was her. Looks like I might be on the couch for the rest of our unofficial honeymoon.” He chuckles with no seriousness, mood still improving as the morning progresses and I’m overwhelmed with almighty heartfelt guilt and crushing regret.
He tries so hard and every time I just slap him down and see only the worst in his intentions. I always fail to see what’s staring me in the face. I let my mistrust blind me to reality.
He loves me and would change the world to keep me happy.
That comment is the final straw, I don’t even know why, other than I just can’t hold all this in anymore and everything I have been clenching inside like a crumbling damn just bursts free, like the frayed rope holding the weight up, finally snaps. All the angst and anxiety and worry and confusion, fear and memories, and I just burst into immediate tears with a loud spontaneous sob. Pain because I’m hurting both of us with my ingrained insecurity and terror.
My hands fly to my face and I turn away, so he doesn’t see me cry like a moron. Mortified that it all just broke like this when I was trying to keep it from him. I couldn’t hold the act any longer and now I’m gushing wounds and heartache all over myself. A pathetic woeful collapse, ripping masks off left, right and centre.
Everything just hurts so much.
“London? Cam? What is it?” His hands pull me back to him, unravelling my tightly hunched body as he unclips my belt and tugs me into his lap and a strong embrace, fluidly. Speedy, effortless because to him I’m feather light. He pulls my face to his and curls in around me, caging me into that security of his warm body so he has his nose touching mine from a weird angle. Instantly wrapped in Carrero and strangely cocooned in a tight space that just feels and smells of him.
Instant safety, the missing sense of security I was aching for, and despite my whirring thoughts, he is still an anchor in the stormy sea when I least expect it.
“Talk to me.” The soft concern in his tone matches the panic in his voice and I stop my stupid noises to try to talk. Blubbering like a fool, sodden from my outpouring and floundering hysterically. Swallowing and inhaling heavily to calm the crazy and say something. My insides heavy and weighed down with aching pain.
“How can … you … why are you not …?” It’s a mess of soggy words and sniffs and I gulp as I try to regain control properly. Unable to pull myself together for one coherent sentence.
“Take a breath, calm down. Nice and slow. Take your time, baby.” He strokes my face so very gently and smooths my hair away from my now drenched cheeks tenderly, that coldness has gone and only the soft and caring version of Alexi is here with me right now. The man I need. Smoothing my hair, brushing my cheeks to catch falling drips and snuggles me in so close, all my senses home into his body and nothing else.
I will always need him.
I needed him when I woke up, not the angry yelling him, that snaps when I do. I needed this version of him to just give me time to filter in what I was finding out.
Brushing through the hair on my temple with his fingertips to calm me down as he cradles me close with his other arm tightly around me. Finding a strand of my hair to twist in the way he does when he is soothing me, my scalp tingles from the tiny tugging and I find the inner calm moving back in to silence the manic panic. Gaining control of my tears and erratic gasping, burying my face against him and holding on tight like my life depends on him. Clinging to my rock.
He still has the gift.
“I’m scared.” It comes out breathily, a low feeble whisper, and he frowns as he strains to hear me. Pulling my face back with careful fingers so he doesn’t lose eye contact with me. So close he’s blurry to my tear-washed eyes.
“Of what? Me? I thought we were past that.” The crestfallen way his face changes and he hugs me a little closer, wrapping me in a bear hug. Regret evident in that gorgeous pair of the palest grey eyes. Bringing me hypnotically to stillness and shaking some sense into me finally as it’s all laid in front of me so obviously. Alexi was never going to hurt me. He’s who he is for me, and that won’t change, even with a binding license to tie me to him.
My past, my fears choking me into this hysteria. He isn’t the reason. I’m punishing him for my own scars.
“Marriage. Ownership … being a prisoner.” I can barely say the offending words, gulping and breathing in heavily to regain some sense of sanity and stillness. The trauma of uttering it brings full-on shame coursing through me horribly. Alexi squeezes me again and turns my strand of hair around his finger a little more so the scalp tingles to ground me again. Instinctively knowing how to soothe me, with just his low tone, soft touches and keeping me close.