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

  Arrick picked up his phone and scrolled to his most recent calls, hitting Natasha’s name, laying it back down in the console, eyes glued to the road, frowning. He hated driving in mid-town traffic past eight pm; the hustle and bustle of people hitting the nightlife always made it a headache to navigate.

  ‘Hey Darling, are you almost here?’ Natasha had a soft girly voice that made her sound like a child most of the time and he felt that pang of guilt at the fact he was doing this to her again.

  ‘Hey Tash. Look… I’m sorry, but I need to cancel our plans tonight. You go and meet everyone and enjoy dinner. I need to go deal with Sophie.’ He waited with paused breath at the long silence which stretched between them, zero response as she took it in and he could already picture the hurt expression on her face; knowing that she was taking a moment to choose her words wisely and think about her reaction. Natasha was always someone who remained composed and liked to see everything from everyone’s perspective before flying off the handle. She was the picture of mature and refined, outwardly calm like him and he guessed it’s why they got on so well. The complete opposite to Sophie, and usually why Sophie was the one to start major rows with her, pushing her buttons and making her snap, despite it going against Natasha’s nature.

  ‘Again?’ She said desperately, no real anger in her even tone, only disappointment and he took a long slow breath, exhaling even more slowly, knowing that this wasn’t fair on her. It never was. Yet glad she was taking it well, despite literally bailing when he was supposed to be there already. Natasha had put up with a lot in the past eighteen months that was directly related to Sophie.

  ‘She’s a mess, and she’s alone at Randy’s bar. I can’t leave her there and I think it’s best if she comes back to my apartment tonight for a real talk. I can’t keep ignoring this.’ He hated the second stretch of silence, knowing Natasha was seriously upset with him, but the anxiety concerning Sophie out there right now far outweighed anything else.

  ‘What good will talking do? She has been getting worse over the last year and the last couple months she has had you run after her almost three nights a week, every week.’ Natasha’s voice wobbled when she finally responded and he knew the tears had started; he felt like shit at letting her down, but in this he had made up his mind. He could see his friends and her another night, when Sophie was safely back where she belonged and nowhere near any form of danger.

  ‘I haven’t actually sat her down alone in a long time and just tried….. I need to do this my way. I’m worried about her Tash and I can’t just let her go on living like this.’ The picture of Sophie crossed his mind and that same rise of anxiety that he was still stuck in traffic and not there yet, all he could picture was her big tear stained blue eyes and terrified face.

  ‘Fine! You know you’ll do whatever you want anyway when it comes to her. Good luck, I guess. If you think it will make a difference then try, but we can’t keep on like this. I can’t keep on like this.’ Natasha sniffed softly, no real anger; picturing her wiping her eyes, he frowned hard at the cab in front, willing it to move impatiently.

  She was pissed at him, disappointed in ruining their night but he knew she would get over it quickly. Deep down Natasha was a compassionate person and in the end, she always agreed that he couldn’t leave Sophie to her own devices. Anytime the two women had argued it had always been Sophie who sparked the girl on girl feud and despite it all, Natasha just wanted to like her and get along for all their sakes. Natasha was a sweetheart and he knew she didn’t deserve this at all, she definitely didn’t deserve the hard time Sophie always gave her.

  ‘I know, and that’s partly the reason I need to do this. I’m sorry. I’ll call you tomorrow. Have a good night with Nate and the guys, wish Lydia a happy birthday for me.’ Arrick growled at the Cab driver in the guy’s mirror, urging him to move now the lights had changed and getting impatient as hell, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. He heard her sigh, resigned to the fact that he wasn’t coming and not really the kind of girl to have a go when at the heart of this was Arrick’s caring side; his loyalty for his friend. She couldn’t be angry at that, even if it did interfere with them.

  ‘I love you Arrick.’ Natasha added hesitantly, that tender affection she said often and it tugged at his guilt, his heart aching a little, knowing she hated being mad at him and this was her way of saying she understood.

  ‘You too Tash. Now go. Tell me how it went tomorrow. I’ll hopefully get through to her and have something positive to tell you.’ He frowned harder at the car in front and resisted the urge to hit his horn.

  ‘Goodbye Honey.’ She breathed gently, lingering.

  ‘Bye Tash.’ He answered distractedly.

  He hung up before she did, getting seriously pissed with the yellow car now, weaving in and out and making it impossible to pass. If it weren’t for this asshole he would have been there minutes ago and already scooping her up and away from harm’s way. He slammed his horn angrily and sighed with relief when the car pulled into the kerb to let him pass.

  ‘

  Chapter 1

  Sophie Huntsberger

  I drag myself heavily through the crowded club once more, everything moving and tipping like I’m at sea, feeling disorientated and foggy; although I’m less drunk than I had been. My phone is still glued to my ear, even though I seem to have lost Arrick and hear nothing but silence. Pulling my cell down to look at the blank screen and realising my battery has died; I just sigh in complete deflation. Fed up with how my life is turning out lately, nothing seems to go right anymore.

  I take a long deep breath to try and centre myself into sobriety, my body sagging; drying my face half-heartedly with the back of my hand now that my tears have once again subsided, and my heart has resorted to numb emptiness. I don’t even care if my makeup is smeared or even cried off right now, Arrick has seen me worse so many times. I let my cell drop in my hand beside my body and hold it loosely, too disconnected to really feel anything but heavy fatigue from stupidly sobbing, swaying from being under the influence and bumping into things clumsily. I just feel empty and done, completely over my night and not caring that it isn’t even late enough to be bailing.

  ‘Hey sexy… Wanna dance?’ Some husky male voice assaults my senses as I try to fight my way through the heaving, dancing crowd that is more like a sea of tar; shrugging by without a response and hoping he leaves me alone. He taps my shoulder as though I haven’t heard him, the rise of hairs and goosebumps running across my skin in automatic response. That internal rising ache in my stomach that happens anytime a guy touches me; I long ago identified it as repulsion. I shrug it off and keep going, eyes forward and not reacting in anyway. Body simmering with that restless arsey energy that seems to plague me of late.

  My steps feel laboured and off balance and I know that even if I take off my heels, I won’t be able to keep walking around before face planting the floor. Everything aches, legs like rubber, my feet are burning and sore in my new Jimmy Choo’s and I now just feel irritated and nauseous beyond belief. Everything just feels surreal and yet shittily familiar. It’s fair to say my mood has seen better days and I really cannot be assed with this crap.

  A hot iron gripped hand catches my upper arm, startling me and halting my progression through sweaty bodies, biting into my naked flesh and pulls me back ungracefully so that I almost go over my heels.

  ‘Hey, I was asking you a question!’ He yells right into my ear to be heard above the thrum of noise, as his body catches up and puts himself right against my ass, heat hitting me, accompanied by that familiar rising panic from deep within. The inner psycho bristling up to take on another sleazy asshole who thinks he has a right to touch me. I inwardly recoil at the unwanted contact.

  Annoyed at the nerve of the creep, outraged at my near trip, I flash an angry glare his way over my shoulder and yank myself free. Responding into aggressive mode as rage spikes immediately inside of me like a hot fiery spear. That inner fury which always brims
below the surface when I drink, sparking up to take on the world, that has been ingrained since childhood, effortlessly peaks. I shove him hard in the chest with the flat of my palm, putting every ounce of energy into it and almost knocking myself off balance too. I just want him to go away and leave me alone, shaking my hand to remove the feel of his hot clammy body away when I manage to gain the space I desired.

  He disappears into the crowd with the force of my shove and I move fast, knowing better than to stick around for him coming back, trying to get out of sight before he gets back to his original spot. Heart racing a little as adrenalin flows and sense tells me to duck and weave faster to the safety of the dark back wall of the club.

  Men in this club are known for being aggressive and perverted at the best of times and I have been groped on more than one occasion to know it’s true; one weekend had seen too close a call with one hot tempered asshole who wouldn’t take no for an answer. Arrick had shown up in the nick of time and broken his nose when he had refused to back down.

  ‘Leave me alone!’ I yell back, almost in afterthought, almost coherently to the general direction he has fallen back; my slurring voice non-existent under the thumping house music and intent on just finding a quiet place to get off my tired legs to just hide. I feel exhausted.

  I just wish Arry was here already and helping me out to his car so I can lay down and go to sleep. The thought of him coming for me is all that is keeping me sane right now; alcohol and tears are never a good mix. I feel dishevelled, out of place and vulnerable. I’m not sure if I should even tell him about why I’m upset this time, why I have been crying.

  Arrick hates my friends, not that I can’t see why, as they are all pretty pathetic and really just the crowd I fell into when I came here. I can’t ever seem to form real friendships with people, no matter how hard I try, and I know it’s because I just don’t ever let them past my outer wall. It’s the same with men I date, I hide who I really am behind that mask of party girl and reckless persona and just attract the wrong kind. Arrick hates the men I date almost as much as I hate his girlfriend Natasha, and another sob story about how hard done too I am by one of them again will just annoy him. I can’t say that I blame him, it annoys me too that I have become this pathetic doormat that men wipe their feet on and that I let them.

  My stomach feels like a washing machine, my throat aching and parched. I sobbed for an hour before even calling him this time, letting the hazy flurry of booze clear a little so I didn’t slur as much on the phone to him and it has left me feeling raw and woozy.

  I have no idea where my so called friends are and last time I saw my handbag it was in the hands of that slimy prick Terry; I left him to hold it for me when I had gone to dance. Terry is the guy I have been dating most recently, on and off, nothing serious, just looking for that guy who may be different this time, maybe gave a shit more than the last. Now very much off, due to the fact I ventured to the bathroom and walked right in on him snorting coke from that whore Dionne’s naked breasts while banging her up against a vanity. At first the disbelief made me stand in open mouth silence, before shock, then outrage, hit me. Reacting like a crazy jealous bitch, I yanked him off her and reigned a fury of slaps and abuse at his upper shoulders and head, blinded by overwhelming black rage as my heart twisted itself into a contortion of pain.

  They both scrambled for discarded clothes and belongings, before scurrying off like cowardly assholes and I only realised my bag was with him after I slumped down on a closed toilet and cried my god damn eyes out. Completely betrayed by two people I should have been able to trust, more heart ache to add to my ever-growing collection. I cried until this numbness took effect and wiped me out, although I was still feeling fragile, mostly I was empty.

  Dionne played the role of girly best friend for weeks. Looking back, I could now see that she was milking me for anything she could get; a never-ending stream of money on tick with promises to pay it back. My clothes, my shoes and now my men. Luckily my phone was in the back pocket of my denim skirt, a habit Arry drilled into me from an early age. To always keep my phone on me, in case I ever needed him; no matter what.

  My other friends seem to have vanished almost as quickly, as soon as I stumbled out of the lady’s room, tear stained and light headed and made to find them; I realised I had been abandoned. We all came here to get drunk before our main event, a huge party in some exclusive bar across Manhattan and my time in the bathroom was long enough to get ditched. Again.

  This isn’t the first time they have all gone onto the next place and left me to it. None of them care about me, they only care that I pay my share or more of the booze and don’t cause drama. No one bothered even looking for me and it is why I always ended up calling on Arry to come find me. He is the only person I ever really count on.

  Whenever I feel this way, he is all I want, all I need to feel better. That hero coming to rescue me and take care of me for a while; that guy who never lets me down, even if he is pissed at me calling. It has stopped me falling off the edge of the cliff I am dangerously walking along many a time. My haven of calm, my island in a storm and I miss him so much since our lives started to take different paths.

  I’m so tired of this scene, tired of the endless, back stabbing, shallow assholes, that befriend me and just don’t give an actual shit, and generally tired of life. Tired of being the one left wandering alone and relying on Arry to come find me when I need him, and knowing that I am only pushing him away every time I do; tired of the way my friends are only around for the party but never the aftermath and even then, only around as long as my allowance doesn’t run out. Tired of being used and discarded by men when they move on to someone else, as though I am worth no more than a cheap night out when I am no longer a lure for them. I am just sick of everything, sick of a life I have made for myself and don’t know how to get out of anymore. I just feel spent inside and tired, to the point that I know it is no longer alcohol related. I am not happy living this way and chasing this life to make myself happy just didn’t work out at all.

  I manage to push and claw the last expanse to the empty back seats of the club, into the darkest and quieter shadows; despite Arry telling me never to venture back here alone, into the depths, but I am just so consumed with needing to sit down and put my head on something to stop it from spinning. I need to just sit and breathe before he gets here. The tears that dried on my cheeks have made my skin feel sore and tight, my heart is bruised but it will still beat to fight another day. Neither Terry nor Dionne mean that much to me in the grand scheme of things. This isn’t the first cheating asshole I dated and the constant nagging to have sex with him won’t be missed any more than he will. I held him off for a month and I guess, not giving him what he wanted, is why he had clearly found it in someone else.

  Story of my life.

  Sex is not an option for me, not now, not ever. Sex is something I doubt I will ever feel the urge to share with some random asshole I hook up with, especially when all they do is pressure me and paw me, even when I tell them I’m not ready. I have no idea if I ever will be, and therein lies the problem.

  What man will want a girl who doesn’t ever want to have sex with them?

  Years of being abused by my father until I ran away from home at fourteen made sure that I feel only repulsion when a male gets his hands anywhere near my body, my skin crawling with what feels like ants running all over me. My stomach turning at the mere thought of hands or body parts down there, touching mine. I can handle kissing, and minor upper body petting when drunk if I really force myself too; if I have to endure it for whatever guy I am seeing, but anything below the waist sends me into a panicking mess of fear and fire, igniting that bitch side who lashes out and becomes violent.

  I don’t really suffer from the flashbacks or memories anymore, rarely anyway. I dealt with those demons a long while back with Arry’s help. I know how to control letting that sick fuck back in my head, learned how not to let those scars control me. But touch
, down there. It ignites some deep-frozen fear that sends me spiralling into defensive rage almost impulsively, and I know that it is partly because I trust no one to get down there.

  What hope is there for any sort of relationship with that as the outcome?

  I have dated so many men in the last months, that to an outsider, I am just a slut who switches men like her underwear; jumping from one handsome guy to another. On the surface I can flirt, kiss and dance sexily, with any guy. I have become amazing at behaving like a mentally normal person who can function in the real world when it comes to sex. The truth is, that they all soon drop off my radar when they realise feisty girl about town Sophie, does not put out.

  I look the part, blonde and blue eyed with a slim curvy body and a dress sense that is sexual, because I am obsessed with clothes and shoes, and love to be both daring and bold and love to use my body to showcase the sexy seasons trends. I don’t have any body issues anymore, no lack of self-esteem or confidence concerning how I look. Therapy made sure of that, the best my family could get me, and the support from my family, Emma and Arry. No vulgar thoughts when I see how I have grown into a womanly shape and I can pull off the outward confidence like any girl around.