The Carrero Heart - Beginning: Arrick and Sophie. (The Carrero Series Book 4)

by L. T. Marshall

  ‘You would know that how? You have never cooked anything edible in your life. Do you remember how many times my mom tried to teach you to cook? Do you remember the brownies you made Soph’s?’ Arrick chews, pauses and swallows without trying to look alarmed or react in any way. A serious look in those pretty eyes and I smirk at the recollection of probably the worst brownies ever to come out of an oven, like ever.

  ‘You didn’t look like that when you ate my brownies… Did that hurt going down?’ I lift my eyebrows at him and this time he chuckles, involuntarily, and then looks around in alarm incase she’s coming back. He frowns back at me with a warning look to stop, but I am only just warming up.

  ‘Shut up and eat. We have a long drive and she didn’t need to come over and cook breakfast for us. She is just being a sweetheart, like always.’ He scolds me gently, pushing my foot under the table to try and tell me off quietly.

  ‘I wish she hadn’t, you would have taken me for something I might actually like, or just cooked them for me instead. Your pancakes reign supreme, especially next to these. I want real food.’ I frown and make a stabbing go at spearing fruit, something I recognise as edible anyway. Possibly a blueberry, but it’s so coated in thick white gunk that I can’t tell.

  Please god I think this may be like organic plain yoghurt, and not even the nice flavoured stuff that doesn’t taste like bitter, off milk. I think she may actually be trying to poison us.

  ‘Pretty sure candy, and sugar coated cereals, are not real foods.’ He takes another mouthful and this time avoids looking my way at all, seriously struggling not to smile and dimples are making a permanent appearance this morning. His good mood is still floating around and try as he might to be a loyal boyfriend, I can totally see he agrees these are worse than bad.

  ‘More real than…What ever are these made of? The paper bag the flour normally comes in?’ I throw my fork down and push the plate away huffily, losing interest in spearing stuff I cannot identify.

  ‘Flour free, banana and oat pancakes. High protein and good for you. Something you are clearly allergic too.’ Arrick looks around over his shoulder at a noise and turns back.

  ‘She’s coming back. Eat, or I will force feed you when she’s not looking.’ He warns, meeting my sarcastic ‘you so will not’ look thrown back at him. He pushes my plate back at me as she saunters back into view. All traces of spilled mess on her dress cleanly gone and walking around in a haze of freshly powdered face and newly reapplied perfume spritz. Arrick raises brows at me that are supposed to get me to do as I am told and I sigh. Picking up my fork.

  She wanders back to the kitchen, smiling my way, behind his back, and seems to be intent of making like a good housewife and washing the dishes she made. I cut a piece of the offending pancake and force myself to take a bite. I catch Arrick watching me and can’t resist the dramatic silent choking gesture I make when I put it in my mouth. All I can taste is dry, bland and cushiony.

  He kicks my foot a bit harder, which makes me yelp and spit what’s left of my half-chewed pancake out onto the table between us, hitting a real coughing fit while slapping his hand in anger. He throws his napkin over it to conceal it from her.

  ‘Oh my god, Sophie are you okay?’ Natasha squawks my way as I really do start taking a choking fit on nothing but air, Arrick hits the absolute giggles and sits his arm on the table so he can cover his face and stifle the urge to laugh.

  ‘I’ll get you a glass of water.’ Natasha starts fumbling with the cupboards, clinking glasses and I can’t help but glare at him, blaming him for this.

  ‘Serves you right.’ He mumbles under his breath, lifting brows and grinning at me, looking back over his shoulder to see she hasn’t heard and getting back to downing his food like a starved dog. I wonder if he’s perfected the art of wolfing it down so he doesn’t taste it.

  ‘Here, drink slowly. Do you need me to pat your back?’ Natasha appears at the side of me, fumbling around me and sliding my glass in front of my face as though she really thinks she needs to manually make me drink it. I take it from her with a weird glare her way.

  Yeah, calm yourself mom.

  ‘Sure I can drink this just fine, it’s passed anyway. Must have just went down the wrong way.’ I smile fake brightly, clearing my throat fully, already feeling his judgy eyes on me in case I offend his stupid woman again, and picking up my sarcastic tone even when veiled in super sweetness.

  ‘She’s fine Tasha, sit, eat. You came over and cooked all this. At least sit and eat with us.’ Arrick smiles her way warmly, her face immediately softening from maternal hen, squawking around me, to smitten doe eyes that make me want to gag. She can never conceal that bleurgh over the top adoration she has for him and honestly, it’s kind of pathetic.

  ‘No really, I told you, I ate before coming over. You two enjoy while I clean up. I just didn’t want you leaving with an empty stomach for such a long drive.’ She leans down, kissing him on the cheek in a weirdly childish way before scurrying back to her domain, no doubt to shine the pots and steam the chrome cooker. I swear that chick could be in a Febreeze ad.

  It’s clear she has never heard of twenty-four-hour food drive throughs though.

  Arrick watches her walk away before bringing that cool set of hazels to my face, a little subtle reminder that he wants me to play nice and behave once again. He nods at the food and smiles smugly, suggesting I carry right along.

  ‘Asshole.’ I mouth at him silently, scowling when he only smiles wider at me.

  ‘Brat.’ He answers back under his breath and carries on eating, this time I swear I see a flicker of a grimace, when he takes a mouthful, and I’m done for.

  I can’t eat this crap, no matter how many looks and nods he gives me. He can smooth over her offended hurt feelings himself. I don’t care if she knows I think her cooking is crap. Right now, what I wouldn’t give for real pancakes, swimming in syrup and some actual bacon. Not fake food, that has about as much taste value as a cardboard box.

  I sigh heavily and throw him my best wounded look, that is meant to translate to ‘I just can’t.’ Arrick frowns at me, he is almost done with his food, he glances over his shoulder, Natasha is engrossed in looking under the sink for something and he switches our plates smoothly and soundlessly without looking this way again until the swap is done seamlessly. I get that narrowed brow from him.

  Pushing the almost done scraps in front of me, he takes my untouched plate himself and picks up my fork to start eating it. He throws me that ‘you owe me’ look and then digs into the food easily, obviously used to it, and has probably built up a stomach of steel and fire to deal with it. I know he can eat way more than these two portions of a normal meal, so maybe he should actually be thanking me that he is getting one decent portion, of tasteless bland cotton floss out of this.

  I pick up his used fork and use it to draw patterns in the left over yoghurt, bored already and wanting to get going. Because, of course now, he has to stop and find me something to actually eat before we head to Amber’s apartment for my every possession, before I waste away into nothingness.

  ‘If you die, then know, I tried to warn you.’ I whisper at him and smile when he fails to stop the half smile that hits his face.

  ‘I swear….. you’re going to get me strung up.’ Arrick tries so hard to be quiet and looks like he is ready to throw the plate at me already.

  ‘What are you two whispering about?’ Natasha draws both of our attention to her, guiltily from him and dead pan from me. Arrick at least has the good grace to cover before I tell her the truth.

  ‘Sophie wants the recipe for your pancakes.’ He grins back at me with a wink and smiles harder when I scowl at him, standing on his sock clad foot under the table and feeling some sense of satisfaction when he pulls it away fast with a look and a silent ‘ouch’.

  ‘Aww really? Well I can’t really take the credit. I found it on google while looking for foods that were on his list of things he was allowed so close to a fight.’ Sh
e beams in pride, clueless to the level of sarcasm radiating from my look as I nod and smile.

  ‘Guess I can always just look it up then.’ I get up quickly with a huge sigh, patting my stomach dramatically.

  ‘Totally stuffed, so going to go wash up and get ready.’ I smile at the other girl. Nothing genuine in it, but just my typical tolerating her, because she’s breathing the same air right now and I don’t need another Arrick lecture on the art of playing nice. I make a move to walk past him, to go to his room, to get ready to go, and jump when he flicks me in the back of my hand.

  ‘Ouch.’ I yelp, eyes of Natasha looking up in alarm and yet he’s sat, still eating, with a look of sheer innocence on that asshole face right now. Sheer wicked gleam in those eyes. I narrow my gaze at his face frostily.

  ‘Are you okay?’ He looks my way with an air of pretend concern.

  ‘Fine… Just knocked my hand on a big thick wooden plank, was a bit dense.’ I flick him back in the head, radiating a small thud noise and run before he can get a slap at my ass. Running by with a squeal, I catch Natasha pretending not to notice that we are acting like children again. It wouldn’t be the first time I have heard her giving him a little telling off for acting like a kid when I am around. And that look she casts his way says it’s clearly what she is thinking about doing now.

  Chapter 5

  ‘Are you ready?’ Arrick strolls across the guest room I have been using for the past few weeks in Ambers apartment; wearing jeans and a hoody under a denim jacket, looking effortlessly casual and utterly bored while waiting on me.

  I fling the last of my clothes haphazardly into my case and try to zip it shut unsuccessfully, bulging out crazily and it looks like I have no hope of closing it. Arrick frowns, moves me over and pulls some of the rolled-up dresses out with a less than impressed look at my packing skills. Folds them flatter and gets them in so he can at least close the case without much effort. He slides it down beside the other bags on the floor and watches me move to wander around aimlessly, while checking for everything that is mine. I don’t want to have to come back here for anything I may have left behind once I am out that door. Amber and I are not close and she won’t even miss me; I want to shut the door on this part of my life and never walk back in again. I can feel his eyes on me and yet it’s strangely assuring, knowing that he’s taking me away from here to start back in a different direction.

  ‘I guess I am now.’ I finally say, a little feebly, looking around in a last-ditch attempt to delay things, nerves hitting hard now that it is time to go and losing my fearless bravado. The doubt and fear about how awful this is going to be hits me hard, knowing that I cannot outrun the reaction I am going to get from my family when I go back with him. I have dodged all contact with everyone, except Arrick, for months, knowing that I would just react badly to anything my family could say about my life, any tiny criticisms. Knowing that I have been too much of a coward to face the backlash or the tears from my adoptive mum or sister Leila, and Emma.

  ‘Are you going dressed like that?’ He looks me over, still in last night’s clothes which only has the addition of Arrick’s grey hoody; somehow it doesn’t quite match the electric blue heels I had to put back on for want of something more comfortable. I look up and down the outfit and don’t really love the look I have pulled together that much.

  ‘You wait until the bags are closed to criticise my outfit? Would have been nice to you know, say it before zipping it all up tight.’ I raise a tired eyebrow his way and Arrick only shakes his head with a heavy sigh, seemingly annoyed that somehow, I did this. He has definitely lost his morning sparkle, tiredness setting in and I partly blame the pancakes. I think he has maybe some sort of delayed food poisoning from eating the offerings from his ball and chain.

  He lifts the case back to the bed and opens it to fish for jeans and flats among the haphazard pile, pushing clothes aside in a very neat and not haphazard manner that someone bugs my happiness. I would just rummage through and yank them all out, but he is way too precise for that sort of recklessness. He finds both items he seeks and drags them out for me to take, I don’t even care that he has chosen ones I would never pair up, I just want to go, and my mind isn’t on cute outfits right now.

  Sliding off my heels obediently, I slide the skinny jeans up under my skirt and wriggle into them, my skirt moving up my waist and exposing navy lace underwear before I zip them shut. I catch Arrick frowning at the area I have just concealed, obviously unimpressed with my Victoria’s secret ‘kinky’s’ before he holds out the pumps for me to slide on wordlessly. It’s not like he hasn’t seen me in less, I have worn bikinis and practically nothing to bed when he’s been around and I don’t get what his issue with sexy underwear is. I pull the skirt down, unbutton and manage to slide it down over my legs pronto. It isn’t the first time I have changed in this manner, so I do it quickly. Handing shoes and skirt to him expectantly. Arrick throws them on the bed without looking my way and leaves them there while he zips my case back up.

  ‘Hey, you forgot too..’ I start to scold him but he cuts over me with that no nonsense grumpy glare of his.

  ‘I’ll buy you new shoes, and a longer skirt when we get you home, those can live here with your roommate and go to a better cause. Find their way to a streetwalker in need.’ He frowns my way with that ‘don’t argue with me’ look he likes to throw around and is met with my stubborn jut of my bottom lip.

  I don’t think so!

  ‘I love those shoes, they’re Jimmy Choo’s and just hit the catwalk at the last New York fashion week.’ My lip wobbles a little and Arrick sighs, looking at me with that lowered brow intimidation frown. I just stare right back, not giving a shit right now and never really caring for that Carrero death glare, either from him, Jake, or their father. I cross my arms across my chest in a bid to show I will not back down on this. He relents, hauling them back to him and shoves them in one of the bags on the floor with a deep frown.

  ‘The skirt….’ I try for my second item but his deepening eyebrow glare shut’s me up. This time it’s less Carrero and more Arrick is getting pissed and I know there is a world of difference. I can choose to keep pushing and then cower when he does finally erupt, or kiss the damn thing goodbye and save myself a world of pain.

  ‘Look Soph’s, if we’re going to be hanging out again then I don’t want to see this outfit or any like it making a comeback around me. I don’t like seeing you dressed like some cheap hooker, you’re classier than this and you’re beautiful without this crap.’ He has that stubborn way about him that I know only too well. If I push then we will fight, and as much as I wanted the old him back, the one who did yell at me and show more than cold deadpan exterior. I really don’t want to fight. Fights with him result in snotty messy hysterical tears and it’s not a good look on me.

  ‘You sound like my dad.’ I huff his way, making a move to lift my discarded skirt sneakily, but his slight brow raise and the way he leans in to counteract me, holds my hand at bay. I leave it alone on the bed, resigned to the fact he will buy me something else, because I will hold him to it and I will make sure it cost twice as much as that little beauty of designer denim did. I let it go, knowing when to pick my battles.

  We turn and I lead the way out of the room instead, giving it one last forlorn look and mentally saying my goodbyes. Not really that bothered, seeing as all I ever did was sleep in here and occasionally work off the odd hangover; I tended to use her couch way more than was normal.

  ‘Your dad wouldn’t be as tolerant as me and let you keep the shoes. I can’t believe I am even letting you keep the shoes.’ He smirks my way, drawing my attention back to him but I only roll my eyes.

  ‘He wouldn’t get a say in either, I’m only listening to you as you’re a bossy commandeering ass at times and I have no energy to argue with you right now. You didn’t let me sleep, remember? Besides, there is nothing hooker about those shoes, apart from maybe the six-inch heel.’ I throw a raised brow at him, sashaying
my butt in front of him so I get through the door first; a childish habit from my younger teens at always racing Arrick out of doors first. He shakes his head at me indulgently, ignoring me, clearly, carrying my case in one hand, a bag on his shoulder and the other in his other hand.

  ‘Well, if it gets you to behave them I am all for being a bossy asshole when you’re fragile. Hold the door smartass.’ He nods towards the front door of the apartment ahead of us and waits while I pull its heavy weight open for him. I take one last look down the hall without feeling anything much at all, there is no emotion, only the constant aching hell of a hangover and a need to get going before I lose my nerve again.

  After he’s out I lock it behind us and post the spare key in the box. Amber isn’t home and knows I’m leaving. I text her some short and rapid thanks this morning and was met with indifference. Amber has never really spent much time with me and rarely uses her own apartment herself, so it’s not like it’s a great loss of a friendship. Leaving this city is sadly not a loss in anyway, in terms of friends, happy memories or any real life.

  ‘Sometimes you’re bossier than Jake.’ I smile at the mention of one of my favourite Carreros, although to be fair, there isn’t a single Carrero that I do not adore, they are all pretty epic. Being back in the Hamptons means I get to see Emma and Jake again, and little Mia and Lucas, Arrick’s parents too. I might even be around to see Emma give birth to that growing bump she was developing before I left home a few months ago, and that can never be a bad thing. I have missed all of them, too stubborn to think about going home to visit while in that mode of wild and reckless sorrow drowning. I haven’t wanted to see any of them, for deep down I’m ashamed of how I was living and throwing it back in the faces of the people who saved me from a very different life. I know I have behaved like an immature selfish brat and none of them deserve the anguish and worry I have caused them. I really feel like I have maybe started to grow up.