The house is huge and beautiful like some sort of movie set for the lifestyle of the rich and famous. A towering white mansion set in a beautiful green manicured garden like some modern painting. Set in the sunny Hamptons, near the coast in a very picturesque area that comprises of nothing but huge grand houses, that just spew wealth. I can see why the Carreros reign supreme here. It’s like the real housewives of Orange County.
Their home a show house for sure, completely devoid of lived in family life and we are let in by a maid who ushers us into a sitting room in what appears to be a deserted house until she runs off to find our host. Marble entranceway not dissimilar to that of Alexi’s nearby abode, huge sweeping staircase in a flawless neutral palette. It’s glossy magazine worthy with massive professional vases of floral arrangements dotted at key points on expensive furniture around the edges of the room.
I find it odd that Alexi is being treated like a guest rather than a family member, left standing here to await his mother, but I keep my mouth shut as I watch him pace the floor, clearly unsettled in these surroundings. Not wanting to point out the obvious and hurt him more than he has been under this roof already. This must hold a million memories from him that leaves a sour taste in his mouth.
He seems like a fish out of water in this house and I really do not connect him to the calm white and neutral tone décor, or the pristine almost museum-like settings. It doesn’t seem child-friendly or even family orientated and is more like a five-star hotel than somewhere welcoming.
He seems restless and closed off already, walking away from me to give himself some much-needed space and I know not to take it personally. He’s battling his own inner demons and I just give him a warm, supportive smile when his eye catches mine. A storm in those eyes for all the world to see, the only hint that he experiences a depth of emotion below that smooth exterior. My heart aches for him and I feel powerless to make him better. A knot forming in my gut and throat simultaneously and I just will this to be over fast.
This is not a family home, it’s a show-off pad to impress visitors and lacks any sort of warmth. It’s not my cup of tea at all and I instantly long for Alexi’s apartment back home in the city. It’s cosy urban chic and has a sentimental collection of things hidden around the walls, out of plain sight. He has more character and love in his home than this place does, and I can see why he always felt like an outsider. The house feels cold and sterile much like the woman I see in the pictures on the walls. Staring down at us with superiority from an array of family portraits that all lack my grey eyed Adonis.
Fucking bitch!
“Alessandro.” A heavy, husky accented voice trails towards us from the open door which surprises me as I never thought of his mother having anything other than a New York dialect. It’s obvious she’s a native Sicilian and now makes sense why he spent most of his childhood there and why Alexi has a hint of a genuine Italian mixed with his, but this is a shock, to say the least. It’s so strong it’s almost hard to pick out her English. It does have a seductive quality I guess, but I prefer Alexi’s mixed dialect over hers.
A small elegant woman follows through behind her greeting, bleached blonde hair expertly coiffed into a French roll on the back of her head and dressed impeccably in tailored, wide leg tan trousers and a cream silk blouse that moulds to a small petite frame with plenty of curves. She looks too young to have sons Alexi’s age and on closer inspection, I can see she is well groomed with attention to details. Much like her son. Nothing out of place at all.
A fan of Botox and such no doubt, and her body suggests she is a gym junkie. Hardly the picture of motherhood I was envisioning from the faded pictures in Alexi’s bolthole. None of them had been recent of his mother, but she looks pretty much the same with an air of plastic face. Her demeanour is poised, precise to the extent where I would have envied her only a short time ago but now, I realise how much I have changed. I dislike her on sight, beyond what I know of her. She exudes something hostile, even while smiling and acting like she is pleased to see him.
She crosses to him, takes his hand and air kisses him dramatically on both cheeks before patting him on the shoulder as though he is a puppy dog. Alexi leans in to accommodate her smaller height, eyes not meeting hers properly and he seems stiff and completely blank. I can tell he has withdrawn well inside his head and mask and I hate seeing him his way. The whole thing seems very fake and lacks any real affection and love. He’s playing the part of an obedient and adoring son, and she in no way deserves the respect.
“Mother. You look stunning as always.” Alexi kisses her properly on one cheek and she stands like a statue, almost as though she is enduring his tenderness rather than enjoying it and I instantly hate her more. Despising the very presence of the cow. Dismissing him as if he’s worthless, like his love is something to pass off, and I swallow down a verbal remark, biting hard on my lip before it shoots out. Anger rearing its ugly head like a volcano about to blow its lava pit.
She has his coldness in droves, his controlled manner and standoffish demeanour when you don’t know him very well. I can see exactly where his traits come from so it’s even more mind-boggling to know she rejected him because of most of them. I guess Alexi didn’t fall far from the tree, and she hated having an image of her to point out all her flaws in such a visual way. She rejected him so people wouldn’t see through her own mask of hiding so many imperfections. Too much in her image to pass off as a troubled child, so she kept him away from her so no one would make the connection.
Prick.
“Mother, I would like to introduce you to someone important to me. This is Camilla.” Alexi nods towards me, his face instantly softening when we lock eyes and the adoration reappears to bring me into the fold. My temper simmers as I bask in that look that is only for me, and I step forward extending a practised hand with a fake, overly friendly smile and adopt my most alluring tone. I was always good at pretend play, and I can wear it like a second skin.
“Pleasure.” I hold it out mid-air and she just eyeballs it like it’s a dirty rag and I’m somehow offending her by brandishing it her way. Her focus sweeping my sharp acrylic talons painted in harlot red, and I can almost see the distaste rising in her throat. Her eyes narrow, she swallows hard and I get nothing but a cool glare.
“What happened to the last girlfriend? She was … sweet.” She motions my way with a hand flick but doesn’t look at me directly, turning accusingly to her son with a scowl. Her tone polite, scathing with her words and I baulk at just how rude she is. Ignorant as fuck, and who brings up the last girl when in the presence of a current one.
Jesus Christ!!
Seriously, I already want to stab her in the eyes with my nails.
She has me fuming as my blood bubbles in my veins and heat rises to my cheeks to signal my fury. Taken aback by the question, I just hold myself up and gawp stupendously. Alexi’s face drops to that familiar sadistic scowl that makes his brows almost meet in the middle and his eyelids lower on those glinting eyes.
across his face as he tries not to react the way I know he normally would. Those eyes darkening and
he says through gritted teeth with a snarl hiding in the depths of his tone. Swirling with rage and trying to
joke and I continue smiling warmly, hand still in goddamn
on her back, and as her eyes sweep over me that face tightens to hide her reaction to me completely—very Alexi-esque. Seems closing down and hiding everything
eyes are all that betrays her disapproval, and she again ignores my gesture and crosses her arms neatly across her abdomen to make it clear she´s not going to accept a handshake. I drop it, try not to seethe out some cuss words in her face and just
see you for
taste how
finally meet you. I have heard
All bloody awful!
no idea what kind of pussycat she is dealing with. I’m way more feral than some purring little lap friend. I will claw her goddamn eyes out of her skull. My hackles are rising, my spine stiffening and
cock before she flashes a dark look at Alexi and mutters something in Italian for his ears only. Judging by the tone, I don’t
his cheekbones, signalling insta-rage, jaw tightening
English and so fucking what?” He snaps at her and earns himself a haughty reply, yet again in Italian which only seems to make him worse. She almost hisses at him and he turns to her to lock those soulless eyes dead on her, no hint of backing down at all. She stands tall
across the hall, grinding his teeth, flexing those jaw muscles and looking mighty pissed to boot. I wonder what she said to him, or what disappointment in him she threw his way to wound him. I can see my little lost boy peeking out and I’ll bet your bottom dollar she just reminded him how
and filters up my body, dragging a burning heat that could melt
want to explode at her and spray her with all that
I jest lightly, scrambling for something to say as I try to
with that matronly foul
way back and beyond, and hate that it affects
laugh, oozing hostility and sarcasm, and I can almost count down the seconds to the explosion. I can sense it building in him, and whatever she is saying he isn’t playing nice as she expects him to. She’s pushing his buttons with whatever she said, and we should all just leave him alone now. It’s that snarly sadistic chuckle
English, so she knows what insults you’re throwing around about her! And for the record, you don’t know shit about her so how
his control and I see him physically repent, turning to storm off away from her and towards the drinks cabinet in the corner off to the left. He knows he needs to reel in his shit and he’s searching for alcohol to take the edge off his spiralling temper. Chastising himself for disrespecting this awful
from this rude arsehole before I say something I regret and agree a drink would be good about now. I walk at a pace to match his and try to edge his
her to go the fuck away before he really snaps, and I have to deal with the fallout. Alexi
than this!” She matches his tone and level perfectly and for a second, I can see exactly where that temper and intimidating, growly, husky tone comes from. Alexi may look like his father but that cold side and sadistic bastard personality is all her. It runs deep as
narcissist on some level and Alexi was the child she singled out to blame
when she talks
me offering one. I shake my head, despite wanting one, as I know I might just let rip if I have a drink
you stop insulting my wife and we won’t have a fucking problem.” He throws a look over his shoulder at her, yelling it loudly, straight at her face, and even as the words leave his mouth, I see the
horror in my belly that he just blurted it out like that, while she’s on an anti-Camilla rampage, and well, the absolutely mortified
little look of ‘shit’. It wasn’t what he wanted, and now it’s just fuelled the hatred she has brewed for this wicked jezebel standing in her hall. I have defiled her son's good name just by being linked to him. Hell, she probably thinks the name
her. She hasn’t got the strength to really move him but the spew of toxic Italian that follows her manoeuvre gets him spinning on her of his own volition. I step back
up trying to keep his shit together, and the appearance of that cold and terrifying persona that sends shivers through me snarls the words her way. She doesn’t even blink an eye, instead, she also
high on drugs and booze while pissing your life away. You never change! You just drag us down in any way
[HOT]Read novel The Carrero Contract - Selling Your Soul (Mafia Romance) Chapter 183
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