Chapter 20

I walk around naked when I am home alone, and I have more than once got myself off on the couch in
full view while watching porn on his huge TV, stuck to the goddamn wall. I am not exactly shy about
self-pleasuring or even just doing my yoga work out completely starkers in the lounge.

Who the hell watches the footage back? That pervy silent guard on the third floor?

Oh, my God!

My blood runs cold at the thought and I wonder if he has cameras in my bedroom? Now knowing this,
how much of my time alone does he get to see and what does he do with it after?

I feel physically sick with both the thought of it and my fury bubbling like lava deep in my gut is fast
combatting the initial shocked ickiness in my bones.

‘’You didn’t know, did you?’’ He looks amused and even though I am trying not to react I can see he has
that uncanny Alexi trait of reading people. He also has the same smug arsehole way of finding the most
inappropriate shit amusing.

‘‘No, I wasn’t aware I was living in the Big Brother house and having my every move watched by some
greasy little pervert of a security goon.’’ I feel pissed, as I should. It’s so underhanded, and so much for
‘’you can trust me’’ I guess that’s what the ‘‘to an extent’’ was all about. I am absolutely fuming! Body
vibrating and trying to keep still as my inner fight perks up.

‘’Alexi is the only one with access to the apartment cameras. He has a direct link to them on his
devices—thumbprint activated. He can choose to have them go to sleep and only record when there is
movement upstairs.’’ Yes, like me masturbating on his leather couch. Great. I hope he enjoyed the
show because it’s the last one he will be getting. I should never underestimate that prick.

‘’He should have told me. It’s a complete invasion of my privacy.’’



‘’Yeah. Go tell Alexi that, and good luck.’’ Gino laughs at me and swaggers past with that same self-
assured confident walk of a guy who's always been chased by women his whole life, yet I find him less
attractive than his darker counterpart.

Gino is the sunny one; clearly not into the same shit as his brother and therefore probably a trustworthy
and likeable fellow.

Boring.

He also isn’t a sneaky arsehole who spies on his prisoners.

I watch him walk away, a little awed at how from the back, minus the jeans and hoody, he looks exactly
like him. Same broad shoulders and solid frame, same tall sexy swagger and nice tight arse, as he
walks through the bar. He is effortlessly turning the heads of the new bar staff as he goes by. I lose
interest as my eyes fall on the tanned broad neck and see it’s completely free of Alexi’s tell-tale dragon
tattoo, that sits there growling at you all day long. It’s as fierce as he is, and without it, Gino seems
decidedly dull. He just does not have that aura around him that Alexi wears like a second skin. That
danger that lies below the surface, and as much as it makes me uneasy every time I see him, I realise
without it Gino is not of any interest to me at all.

I always did like a bit of danger.

‘‘Miss Walters. The beer delivery is here … Where does it go again?’’ A small female voice curls
around me, grabbing my attention and I turn to the small mousy wench before me. She’s been here two
days and already her lack of initiative is pissing me off. She looks like an overgrown Disney character
with her big eyes and over pouty mouth. Irritation biting me instantly.

‘‘How about in the cellar with all the other booze Dahling? Or is that too much of a mind stretch to figure
out?’’ I raise a brow at her and get a kick of satisfaction with the shocked and then wounded expression
covers her face. I know that being a bitch is unnecessary but the second you show any form of nice to



these people they stop doing as they’re told and start taking advantage, getting lax. Show them not to
fuck with you right away and you are less likely to have to deal with any drama. I don’t need friends or
to win any popularity contests. Alexi pays me to do a job, not earn chums and I will do it without
unnecessary emotional baggage.

‘‘Right. And that would be …?’’ She looks around like a dumb bimbo as though the cellar is going to be
in plain sight. Can’t quite comprehend they are usually found below ground. I roll my eyes and sigh
dramatically.

‘‘I’m assuming where they normally keep cellars … Under the building.’’ I exhale heavily and push past
her in complete disinterest.

‘’Brandon?’’ I call out to the tall blonde, Thor lookalike, putting the new cocktail shakers on the shelf
behind him.

‘’Yes, Miss Walters?’’ He turns quickly, snapping to attention with a smile and I smile back, always
pleased at his over enthusiastic puppy routine. I like his eagerness and willingness to please. Mousy
should take notes; instead, she’s following me like a lost child and about to get a smack in the face if
she doesn’t step back a little.

‘’Over-see the beer delivery, make sure you bring the invoice up to my office when you’re done. And
give Dimwit here a tour of what a basement looks like.’’

‘’Yes Ma’am,’’ he nods—that sweet little southern belle of a boy, obviously gay and I head off in search
of the lift to go grace the Carrero brothers with my pleasure.

I have a couple things I need Alexi to sign off on and part of me is dying to see them side by side and
compare how far the similarities go. A bit like watching a Ying and Yang of sorts, and I am crazily
curious.



I wander through the lobby and straight into Carrero’s office; well mine now, seeing as he gave it to me
as he’s here once a week at most. Lucie almost choked on his own tongue that day, and he has been
slinking in the shadows scowling from afar ever since. He stays out of my way and I stay out of his; no
idea what he even does here anymore as Alexi removed all his privileges, and he’s nothing more than
a desk dweller who just adds a bad mood to the atmosphere.

I think because he’s family he allows him to stay, but he doesn’t want him anywhere else in his
business and has nowhere else to put him. Like a bad smell, he just hovers in his space. Apparently,
he retires very soon, and Alexi is making it worth his while to stay home as soon as he does.

Good riddance.

Opening the door, I expect to see Alexi lording at the desk but it’s empty and I presume he’s taken his
twin up to the apartment instead for some family time. I still cannot believe those two shared a womb
and came from one egg—Alexi seems like he should have been a solitary invention. Unless it was a
case of one baby getting all the good and the other became Alexi. I always assumed he was created in
the pits of hell from the unquenched fire of the devil’s cauldron. I wonder if he and Gino are a bit like an
Angel/ Demon duo in some other realm, end of the world ‘nature and balance’ bullshit.

We haven’t made any headway since that night after the opera and I guess that’s why I am feeling
subtly hostile towards my gorgeous master of above. I am charmingly sweet when he’s around, which
is rare, and he’s his normal bastard self. Cold, bossy and always with a bimbo in tow.

I’m sick of the sight of him turning up to use his room for playtime and glad that I will be down here till
four a.m. every night now and its likely he will get on with his demands before I come up to bed. Getting
tired of listening to wenches climax while my own sex life is completely dead. Thanks to controlling
Carrero and his idea that I should be untouched while representing his good name, and I am
completely frustrated.



It’s one thing to choose to be sex starved for a prolonged period, it’s another to be ordered to be that
way on command.

He spares no energy being civil to me either. Cold and direct, forever telling me what to do and keeps it
all very clinical and business based. I have no qualms that he obviously does not like me. He also has
no taste in women at all, so I guess it’s not an insult. They are all mousy submissive little doorsteps
with big eyes and a severe ’‘Yes sir’’ complexion.

I guess being a hardened Dom sort of means that’s his type and I can now see why he doesn’t like me
much. I’m too brassy, too gobby and too stubborn. I rarely do as I am told without argument, I sass him
back when he’s pissing me off and I no longer have any desire to sleep with the smug prick. I can
barely occupy the same room as him without wanting to throw things at his face and I absolutely love
saying things to him to get a reaction. He has a fragile ego underneath that cold exterior and I have
learned the art of bruising it.

My phone vibrates in the pocket of my shirt dress and I haul it out to see Master himself is calling me. I
sigh, push down the urge to red button him and answer with my fake cheery ‘‘happy to hear from you’’
tone.

‘‘Yes, Carrero?’’ Sweeter than honey and oozing with disdain, this is our normal mode of conversing.
He likes to call me a million times a week when he is not here, throwing out his orders and demands
left, right and centre. I have him saved under the title ‘Lord Arsehole’.

‘’Get up here.’’ Raspy, commanding and prickish like always.

Fuck right off!

‘‘I’m busy,’’ I answer moodily and wander to our shared desk to pick up a new file he’s left sitting there,
it has a post-it note on top which reads. London, take care of this … TODAY!’’



I swear he just made me want to poison his next gin. I hate it when he uses that as my name and it
really riles me that even in written form the man can sound like an arsey control freak and make me
rage.

‘‘It wasn’t an offer, it was an order.’’ He sounds like he’s trying to play cool, yet there’s an edgy vibe of
slight pissed off-ness coming through.

Interesting.

The curious little cat in me wonders what his twin is doing that has him so rattled and I really want to go
watch the fireworks, even if that means doing as he asks.

‘‘Shock! You’re telling me what to do … What a surprise.’’ I murmur with a half smirk and screw up his
yellow note throwing it over my shoulder haphazardly. Giving no shits about it.

Somewhere along the way my self-made plan of killing him with kindness fell apart, the second I was
faced with him once more. I just have no energy for being nice to that much arrogance in one big brute
of a body. Sometimes he’s lucky if I can get through the day without plotting his murder in detail and
leaving traps to maim him.

 


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