The Carrero Heart - Beginning (Friends to Lovers) Chapter 39

The blinding sunlight hitting my face is followed by a harsh, stinging like hell, smack on my ass as I lay
face down sleeping in bed. I lurch, shocked awake by the brutality of it and yelp like a wounded puppy.
I blink blearily at the assault and the not so sweet tones of one irate, and very fucking loud, sister.

“Get up, right now!” Leila’s marching around my bedroom like a moronic commander and chief on a
rampage, dragging open the drapes to epic sunshine levels and obviously in a hostile mood, not that
it’s new for her. I groan, leaning up to catch a glimpse of the alarm on my night table and moan harder
at the crazily early hour. I’ve become a night owl living in the city, sleeping by day to get over sessions
of partying, and this is almost torture.

“I’m sleeping!” I mumble as another harsh slap catches my backside, burning with vengeance this time
as my sheets are yanked back and the palm hits scantily clad flesh that is only being shielded by lace
panties. I scream at the impact that I know will leave a mark this time and turn harshly to glare at one
dickhead that thinks she has a right to sodding hit me.

“Leila! What the fuck?” I jump up, turning rapidly to sit in bed, rubbing my ass, and face that fiery
demon throwing daggers my way. I know her scathing ‘I will fuck you up’ look and take all of about thirty
seconds to calm my jets, knowing Leila could easily take me in a punch-up. She is crazy as shit.

“Don’t what the fuck me, young lady! I have no qualms about dumping a bottle of dish soap in that
mouth. I have been trying for months to pin you down and see you, and you have been evading my
calls and visits like the plague. Then I find out you’re here and you didn’t even fucking tell me. I have
every right to be pissed as hell with you, so don’t even think about giving me any Sophie attitude right
now.” Leila is in fierce mode, riling my own temper as we glare coldly at one another. That fiery standoff
between two equally matched souls; well, she’s about a thousand times scarier than I could ever be,
and like ten years older.



“Ugh! See! This is why I don’t fucking talk to you. You’re bat shit crazy like ninety-nine percent of the
time, and your idea of dealing with me is to act psychotic or just yell.” I spit out accusingly, but Leila
only glares harder, that tiny crazy twitch of her left eyebrow that signals she is like sixty-two percent of
the way to complete psychotic break, and maybe I should reel it back a little if I want to live to see
tomorrow.

“I’m your big fucking sister. It’s my job to be hard on you when you’re ruining your stupid life.” Leila
sobs sharply, a sudden noise as she breaks a little, only to replace it with new fury as she ups to like
seventy percent in a sudden jump. “I fucking love you, and it kills me that I am the last person in the
world you talk to.” She stalks forward, grabbing me by the naked ankle and hauls me off the bed
ungracefully, so I fall into a heap on the floor with a massive yelp and huge thud that reverberates
through my entire body. “Now get your ass up, as Mom is downstairs waiting for you, and we three are
having a womanly chat!” Leila stalks off to my wardrobe and begins throwing sweats and a T-shirt in my
direction. I’m trying so hard to keep my temper while untangling myself stiffly from bed sheets and
nursing my various new bruises.

“You know, becoming a mother made you a hostile bitch!” I crawl to my feet, using the bed as leverage
and come to face her as she stalks back, holding an array of mismatched clothing.

“I was always a hostile bitch, you just never used to piss me off so much.” Leila smirks my way, the
anger softening, and I eye roll at her. This is nothing new between us; all fire, and rage and yelling,
while underneath, nothing but sisterly love at its core. Leila is still a crazy hoe, even if I do love her, and
right now I do not love the fact she has just pretty much abused me, because she is pissed.

“I’ll tell Mom you threw me on the floor, she will whoop your ass.” I pout, picking up the sweats and
pulling them on over my underwear lazily, knowing that defiance is futile, and if I attempt to get back in
bed she will have no qualms about throwing a bucket of water over me, like she did when I was
seventeen.



“I’ll break your nose if you tell on me, then I’ll burn all your My Little Ponies.” Leila locates slippers from
my early teens in the depths of a drawer and throws them at my head with accurate aim. I manage to
duck at the last minute and scowl at her even more fiercely.

“I would probably love you more if you didn’t think violence was acceptable in a sisterly relationship,
Leila.” I pull on the T-shirt over my tank top and slide the slippers on obediently.

“Where’s the fun in that. Now move. Don’t make me wait, as the twins had me up all night with chicken
pox, and I’m a hell of a cranky bitch today.” She commands, now crossing arms across her T-shirt clad,
yet still perky, bust. She’s still a looker for an old married broad that’s getting on in life, and close to
retirement age.

“What’s new, and what’s the matter? Has Daniel stopped letting you beat him through sex, and you
need another outlet for all that rage?” I grin as Leila hits me with an unamused glare.

“Funny. Don’t think you can sass me, and I will forgive and forget the past year of our lives. You, young
lady, have a lot of explaining to do, and I am not leaving until I get some.” Leila motions me to move
first, and then shoves me hard from behind through the bedroom door when we get to it. I trip and
throw her a furious squint. “Besides, my husband likes me being aggressive in bed, keeps the kink
alive.”

I shrug her hands off my shoulders with attitude.

“You know this is not the way to welcome someone back into the loving family fold.” I sarcastically
grumble, but Leila ignores me. I focus on trying to keep my sisters clawing hands off me as we make
our way down the sweeping staircase. Leila seems to have it in her head that I am a flight risk and
latches a vicious grip on my waistband as we near the bottom of the stair, near the main door.



“Leila, can you calm the fuck down. I’m hardly going to bolt out the door in Rugrats sweats and a pair of
pink pig slippers, for God’s sake.” I struggle once more as we hit the floor, but Leila only regards me
coolly.

“I’m sorry, did you say something?” Leila smirks, so I poke her in the face. Right in the cheek. I was
aiming for an eye, but she moves at the last second and slaps my hand away.

“That wasn’t even funny five years ago.” I stick my tongue out and finally manage to disentangle cray
cray’s bony fingers from my body.

“Well seeing as you’re still the same mental age as five years ago, it was worth a shot.” Leila slaps my
already sensitized ass sharply as she heads into the breakfast room, pulling a yelp and flinch with the
impact. I make ugly faces at her back and follow her in, giving her the bird before my mom can see
what I’m doing.


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