The Carrero Contract - Finding Freedom (Book 3 of Contract Trilogy)

10

I throw my third sexy dress on the bed and slump down in a deflated heap, annoyed with myself that I'm doing exactly what I said I wouldn't do. Prettying myself up for him and stressing over how to dress and what to wear like some sad little teenage idiot on a first date. I can't believe myself sometimes.

He texted me and told me to be ready for six and to dress casually. Whatever that means. Ironic really, as that was my original plan; to show a lack of effort and now, here I am with a bed full of dresses and he is the one telling me to dress down.

I don't know if he means casual pretty for somewhere like his Italian restaurant or if he means jeans and sweater casual. I'm not asking him because then he will think I'm keen for tonight and I'm definitely not. This is my first stage of observing and analysing him. Spend time, suss him out and look for all the little acts and niggles that cement whether this is genuine.

I need to be sure I'm not being played, once and for all. Tonight will tell me that, and then maybe if I can suss it out, it will make the decision a whole lot easier.

That's about as far as I have got with my plans, anyway. Play along, be nice, rile him occasionally, and try to figure him out. Shouldn't be too hard to tell if it's fake with some well-placed button pushes to see if his mean side is sleeping or just hiding from me. Alexi can act demure and charming all he wants, but the proof of the pudding and all that is when I make him lose his temper with me. It's easy to poke that bear—disobedience or just flout the ownership buttons and boom. We have ourselves an Alexi meltdown and immediate sadistic appearance with that temper he struggles to control.

A necessary evil to see how different he really can be. If I have to endure being punished to see him for what he really is then at least I'll know what my future would be like. I can run and never look back, with no doubt that I was saving myself from a lot of heartache.

I pull on another figure-hugging dress and glance at my clock, cursing myself that it's almost six and he will show up at any minute. Picking a long jumper dress over skinny jeans, to look like I made zero effort, I re-brush my hair back into its sleek ponytail and turn it into a messy bun. I'm going for the 'I just threw this on and forgot we had plans' kind of look, finished with a scarf and flats.

Not my normal ensemble on any given day, but this is not any normal day. And I won't admit I have been fussing with my appearance for almost two hours, driving myself insane with nerves and indecision.

I touch up my neutral makeup and apply a lip gloss rather than my trademark red lip and scrutinise myself a little too closely. Obsessing, and I know I'm doing it because my nerves are on high alert and I feel ridiculously uncertain.

I look young, pretty girl, almost college student. Not sure I like the look but it's definitely not screaming seduction of any sort, and I think at the back of my mind, that's what I was aiming for in reality. I don't look like I normally do and part of me wants to see if it makes a difference to him. Does a non-sexy and slutty Camilla still make him want to nail me?

Sex is a NO. It's the one area where I'm not willing to leave myself vulnerable again. Yesterday was stupid and if he truly wants something between us, he will accept I'm taking it off the table, effective immediately. No end date in sight for the time being either. I can make do with BOB should I get horny, and well, I already know he hits the spot every time. You can't beat a battery-operated boyfriend in times of need.

I walk out of my room, adjusting my jumper as he comes strolling in, right on time, looking unusually happy and bright and smiling my way. Alexi has gone full-on casual and I'm bitterly disappointed that he won't blink twice at my attire. He's in grey washed jeans and a tight blue T-shirt under a black leather jacket and a pair of leather boots. Completely casual and now I'm the one annoyed he didn't make more effort. He doesn't even look like he shaved and is sporting stubble on that normally clean-shaven face.