The Carrero Heart - Beginning (Friends to Lovers)

He guides me to the car silently, in a controlled manner, his face deadpan. I can sense the distance between us like a crater, even though he’s molded to my side. My nerves gnawing at me, mood wary, skin tingling with apprehension that something is off and different this time. I know that lately, we haven’t exactly been getting on, for months now there’s been coolness between us, but right now beside him, I can almost taste that something has changed in how he’s being.

Maybe he really has just had enough.

Uncertainty sends my already fragile stomach into a washer-like frenzy, hating that being in tune with him means I am so sensitive to exactly this kind of thing.

His car has been deposited on the sidewalk neatly, all four gleaming wheels on the concrete, of a sleek gray Mercedes he bought only weeks ago to replace his electric blue sports car. Arrick is growing up, leaving behind that young fast life, and settling down, and I don’t know how to feel about it. He’s changing, has been for a while, and I guess it’s one of the reasons we are not as close as we once were. He’s growing up and I’m too far behind him.

We move to the car, where an exceptionally large black-coated bouncer is leaning against it casually, with a beaming smile as he sees us approach.

“Arrick, my main man!” He grins and fist bumps him as we close the gap, still holding me firmly, heating up my body despite the chill around us and my lack of jacket. I smile weakly at the man, knowing the game I have to play when with him. He is sociable with everyone, has time for most people, and he likes those around him to have manners to suit. He’s fast becoming a celebrity on his own terms, not just another Prince of Carrero and following in his brother’s footsteps as the face of the company. His fight titles are making him known on his own, his skills and wins, making a name that means something more to him.

that another bouncer opens for us with a half-smile, and nods towards him. All I have is the heaviness of fatigue, dizzy with it, just aching to sit down and have some peace. My head is banging and that nausea that has been swirling around is making me hot and stuffy. I fall into the cool seat of his car interior with sheer relief, so glad to be back on my ass and relax into the molded curves with a sigh. The urge to slide my shoes off is

seat away from his caring hands and slide down the leather to try and just calm the side to side waves going

he needs to be and the company requires him, then casual lad about town when he’s with me, or street thug when faced with adoring fight fans.

on my naked inner thigh innocently, to take his weight. He strains forward to see the towering figure whose head is still too high from his

removes his hand, leaving me with a sensation of warm softness there. He leans in close to me and catches my seatbelt over my right shoulder, pulls it across me with eyes on the task and buckles me in. Not that I’m incapable, but this is just one of the many things he has always done when looking

own seat and buckles his belt, strong shoulders and arms moving under fitted tailoring alluringly, saying nothing when he gets the engine fired up and back into traffic carefully. I glance his way, more than aware that nothing about his

gorgeous hazel eyes. The deadpan nature of that face when he wants to avoid drama and argument. Even knowing him as I do, it still leaves me

past months, even before I started partying harder and moved to the city permanently. Getting more like his dad I guess; he has that same cool and distant personality and crazily aloof way of dealing with stuff from time to time. I love Giovanni like a

is just rubbing off on him a