The Carrero Heart - Beginning (Friends to Lovers) Chapter 105

A loud buzzing noise rouses me from the hazy darkness when I realize I am in a bed that’s not mine, a
familiar arm tossed casually across my waist and sheets pulled up over me to my chin. Confused and
disorientated, I blink my eyes open, blurriness clouding my instinct to be concerned and begin looking
for the god-awful noise with a groan.

Arrick groans next to me, reaching out to smack a nearby alarm clock and sends it crashing to the
ground, except the noise perseveres and the next thing to meet hard floor is his cell as he swipes it off
into the room, bringing silence once more.

I sigh, a moment of relief, followed by the sudden realization that I am in bed with him, his bed, in his
old room at his parents” house, and completely naked. Filtering through snippets of being kissed,
undressed and “oh, my God” he had his tongue on my …

I woosh awake fully, in utter shock, eyes snapping open properly as I turn my head to get a complete
eyeful of toned and tattooed shoulder concealing half of his face, which is very still. His eyes still
closed, despite killing the clock and his cell. He sighs heavily, shifts his head so he faces away and
tenses his arm across my waist after a moment, as though suddenly realizing he has someone in bed
with him.

Touché.

I pause, holding my breath as last night filters through my sleep-addled and still drunk brain. That
immediate pang of anxiety at the memories I conjure up and knowing this is going to be awkward as
hell. It seems he too has suddenly been reminded as his hand tenses again across me and he lifts his
head suddenly, turning my way and blinking as he gets his bearings, looking half asleep and still drunk
too. His hazy eyes focus on me, looking very hazel this morning and his face crumbles to a frown.

“Fuck!” He mutters under his breath in alarm, drops his face back down into his pillow, pulling in his
arms to cradle his face and lets out a frustrated moan. He scoots across the bed and starts fishing



down the side for what I guess is the cell he launched a moment ago. It’s like being sucker-punched in
the heart and I react as though he has done just that.

“Gee, thanks for that.” I snap, despite the room still spinning, I throw back the sheets and jump out of
bed angrily. Slamming around to find my discarded dress and underwear which was thrown around the
room in last night’s crazy entrance. A combination of rage, hurt and complete fucking disappointment in
myself for ever believing in him again, has me stamping my feet and acting like a psycho fueled with
rage.

“Sophie, I didn’t mean it like that.” He croaks, pulling himself up to turn, seeing me naked and storming
around the room, he looks away again with another moan.

“Jesus, Sophie, cover up for God’s sake, I can barely function as it is and that isn’t going to help me in
the slightest.” He groans louder, dropping his face back down on the pillow and grappling with the
sheets to try and wrap around his nakedness, using his face as a lever while he lifts his torso to pull it
around himself.

“Fuck you! Weren’t complaining when you got me naked last night!” I snap again, a flicker of memory
coming back at me, but still a little elusive. This time tears stinging in the back of my eyes and emotion
threatening to choke me. Consumed with an agony that feels like glass shards tearing through my soul.
I feel so fucking dumb. I should have known that last night was too good to be true, and here we are,
back to square one and I’m waiting on him telling me it was all just another mistake.

I search for my panties but cannot locate them, giving up and continuing with my dress, sliding it over
my head hastily, concealing my body. Arrick manages to haul himself up, wrapping the sheets fully like
a toga around his waist before turning my way once more, a look of relief that this time I am dressed as
I still search for my bag and shoes.

Where the hell are my fucking shoes?



“I didn’t mean it like that, this is …” He is cut off by the shrill tone of his phone ringing again and he
curses under his breath, face a picture of complete bewilderment and looking around until he finds his
cell on the floor under the edge of the bed. He reject buttons whoever is calling as I locate my bag by
the door and find my bra under his side unit, stuffing it in my bag roughly. Glaring at him angrily, feeling
stupid that I even woke up here with him, after telling myself I would never let him close to me again.

I feel like such a fucking idiot.

He moves as if to say something, but his phone bursts into life once more, whoever is calling is
persistent and obviously desperate to get hold of him. He sighs, looking down at the screen in his hand
and then back at me with an imploring look. He hesitates, does a double-take from cell to me and then
looks like he may cry while I keep glaring at him as though I detest every single tiny part of him.

“I need to answer this. Please, just wait, gimme a second … it’s Natasha.” His voice drops dramatically
and I almost bawl, right there, in that second, as it confirms my worst fear. Natasha is still a factor, and
nothing has changed except disastrous drunken sex that he clearly regrets. If we can even call what
happened that.

I dreamt last night of fighting and lashing out at an attacker in the dark and found myself encased in
arms and legs as he was trying to calm me more than once. I don’t know how much was a dream and
how much was what happened in my moment of zoning out or if I had slept fitfully and he had, in fact,
kept consoling me.

“Go to hell.” I spit, emotion catching in my throat, so my voice sounds strangled. I turn on my heel and
storm for the door, turning to say something scathing in departing, and pause as he holds out a palm,
miming for me to wait and be quiet and I realize he is already on the phone. It only angers me more, as
if I am a dirty little secret he is trying to hush up and boss around like he has any goddamn right.

He can go fuck himself.



“Tasha, hey.” He says softly, still motioning at me to wait frantically, but I only shake my head at him in
utter disgust and look him up and down as though I am seeing him for the first time and don’t like what
stands before me. Rage and broken ache tearing through me at speed, making me feel dirty and
worthless in one fell swoop.

He just cheated on that girl and here he is soothing down the phone as if nothing has happened.
Fucking dog! Like most men.

I turn and haul the door open, not waiting to hear it close before I am stomping towards the stairs in
bare feet. I don’t care that I have lost my shoes and probably look a fright, I have to get the hell away
from him before I literally stab him with something in the face. If I could find my shoes, then both would
be firmly implanted in his skull about now anyway. I descend the stairs at furious speed, not caring who
may see me at this early hour anymore. I am done being a secret.

As I get to the front door, I flinch at him calling my name, impulsively looking up despite myself and
cursing at it, as he comes after me hauling on jeans, concealing his nakedness. Making a bad attempt
at trying to button them up while rushing my way. He is still barefoot and topless as I reach for the front
door handle and pull it toward me, angrily scowling at him with a serious “fuck off” glare. Hating the
very ground he walks on and dragging the heaviest pit of pain with me as I go. There is nothing he can
say anymore; I fell for it once but never again. He turned out to be a lying scumbag just like the rest of
them and I learned a valuable lesson when it comes to men.

None of them are worth it.

“Don’t open the door!” Arrick yells to me as he gets to within two steps of me, panic all over his face but
I frown at him and ignore anything he asks of me anymore. I turn as sunshine hits my eyes with the
sweep of the opening door and make to walk out, stopping dead in my tracks. I come face to face with
one very shell-shocked and morning fresh Natasha at the other side of the door, almost like being



instantly punched in as I reel back slightly with a gasp and a heart lurch. The last person I was
expecting to see while fleeing my sordid cheating asshole of a one-night stand.

A great start to my day, coupled with what happened upstairs. Everything sinks to my toes and that big
slap of “he did it again” overcomes me.

It is as though time stops for a moment, Arrick coming to a skidding halt beside me while looking from
me to her with utter silence. The wide-eyed devastation on Natasha’s face as she looks from me to
Arrick in obvious stages of undress and parting ways the morning after. I’m numb, unable to formulate
words and stand dumbstruck, a serious sense of déjà vu and yet no longer guilt at seeing her. I’m too
empty inside to feel anything except that hard thumping ache that started in my core and is spreading
out to consume me, like a pounding heavy heartbeat that hurts. I am not going to wait around for
another Arrick speech on how he is cutting me out of his life for her, to salvage the seriously broken shit
that they call a relationship.

Good riddance to both.

“Really?” Natasha squeaks his way, tears forming fast and falling down her face as she rounds on him
with heartbroken accusation. I roll my eyes, realizing she deserves it if she just keeps taking him back,
like a weak woman who would rather keep a cheating man whore than be without him.

That’s not me in any way.

“Tash … I …” Arrick seems at a loss for words, looking at me and then Natasha, repeatedly with an
expression and pallor that suggests all blood has dropped to his toes. I push him back with a flat palm
on his hard-muscular chest, slide between the two of them at the open door and make to leave with
barely a care anymore about what this does to her.

“This is between you two, I’m out. Go fuck yourself, Arrick.” I snap, jumping onto the first cold concrete
step as a warm hand latches onto my upper arm and halts me mid-motion. I stumble back, only to be



met with another hand grasping my other arm to steady me and instantly start struggling in fury to get
free, using my clutch bag to slap at him over my shoulder.

“Natasha, go to the kitchen so we can talk, I’ll only be a minute.” Arrick seems to have regained some
strength to his voice and sounds more commandeering than remorseful, as he pushes me further
outside to the next step effortlessly and follows me out as the other girl walks in; avoiding my face and
crying silently to herself like a pitiful puppy.

Still, there’s anger at how pathetic she is and I glare furiously as she passes, hating her with all the
venom I used to possess for her. He waits until she has stepped inside, turning to watch her as she
gazes back with a tear flooded face. I stand my ground, crossing my arms defiantly and tapping my foot
while trying to control the demon in me from flipping out and smashing his skull in with my clutch bag.
Whatever he has to say is going to be lame, meaningless bullshit and I have no clue why I am still
standing here.

“I just need to talk to her first … Go!” He nods towards the kitchen door behind her, watching as she
turns to look that way and pulls the door shut to conceal her inside. I’m surprised that she would allow
her boyfriend to have a cozy chat with his one-night stand, to be honest, and be so accommodating
about it.

There is really something wrong with that girl.

He’s still grasping one of my arms tightly even though I have stopped doing anything except icily hating
on him from my frigid pose as he turns me towards him. My impulsive self, defensively poised like a
stealth ninja, my arms across my chest and I lift my chin defiantly to meet his gaze.

“We will talk, we need to talk. First, I need to deal with her, then us. Sophie, this isn’t what you think,
just give me a chance to get my head straight. I am still so fucking drunk, and this is like a punch in the
face to wake up to.” He’s trying to pull me close to him, to bring my face to his with gentle fingers



cupping it, but I shove him off, his hands dropping when faced with an angry fireball version of me.
Even Arrick knows when to leave alone and I’m guessing the blood-curdling look of rage on my face is
more than a threat. I glare at him, heart breaking, head a mess with confusion and tears brimming that
he, of all people, could do this to me again.

“Go run after your girlfriend, like you always do, and let me go.” I turn on my heel before he can reach
for me again, knowing how close to breaking down I am, but his voice halts me.

“She’s not! She hasn’t been for over two months, Sophs. Please. Give me half an hour, to deal with her
and then I’ll come find you. I meant everything I said last night.” I stand rigidly, body paused as his
words filter through, unable to formulate a reply as every emotion under the sun courses through me. I
won’t fall apart; I won’t let him keep torturing me this way. “Please, Mimmo … We need to talk about
last night. Where we go from here.” He sounds so genuine that the stab in my chest feels like death.

“Don’t call me that, don’t ever call me that again! Do what you always fucking do … put her above
everything and leave me the hell alone, just like you did before. It’s what I expect, I can take it this time.
I’m a big fucking girl who knows better than to ever trust you.” I snap turning on him aggressively, not
caring if I have stupid tears running down my face. I don’t wait for a response as he looks stupefied. I
turn and storm off in the direction of home, hearing his front door open.

I guess I got an answer without asking a fucking question!

As much as I hate it, my heart responds to him and it near kills me with pain. It makes me storm harder
and faster across the street, not caring if everyone and their dog can see me doing the walk of shame. I
want to go home and strip him from my skin, to never let him near again.

I have no clue if my friends even made it home last night at all, the last I had seen of them was on the
dancefloor before Leila dragged me off for sister hugs. I am still drunk, feeling rough as hell and the
tears begin flowing freely again despite myself. Body aching and tingling all over because I cannot get



the feel of him from all over me. I hate him so that it hurts everywhere, even my toes and fingers are
aching with some new method of internal torture. Like I may even die from this pain or have some sort
of heart failure at least.

Something catches me from behind unexpectedly, making me gasp in fright, too stunned to react and I
am spun to face Arrick right behind me as I hit my parents drive. Lashing out to take down my attacker
but he catches my hand mid slap and pulls me tight to his body. I realize he has a T-shirt and sneakers
on now and looks like he ran here, panting, wild-eyed and a little messy around the edges like he didn’t
even look in a mirror.

“I choose you … I always will choose you. I have always chosen you, Sophie. It wasn’t a case of not
wanting you, it was a case of trying to do the right thing for everyone involved. I will always run after
you, no matter what, I won’t ever make that mistake again.” He looks devastated, a little out of breath
and seriously afraid, but I let my anger explode at him. So sure he can win me round with fast words
and a shitty half reason as to her being here like I am as pathetic as she is.

“I hate that you make me feel this way, that you hurt me every time I stupidly let you. I don’t want to talk
to you, I want to stop feeling anything anymore and I just need you to leave me alone. You fuck me up
every time I let you in.” I start sobbing, words coming out hysterically as I wave my hands around,
pushing myself away from him. Arrick catches my wrist and pulls it into him, catching the other wrist
too, bringing them both together between us so he can hold me still.

“I’m not going to keep hurting you, Sophie. I love you. I meant that. Please, come upstairs so we can
talk. I’m here, I’m yours, for as long as you need. I’m not going anywhere. She can wait, she doesn’t
matter.” He pleads, panicking, his eyes trained on mine and his body bending down to me, his voice
gentle and trying so hard to bring me back to him. He lets go of my wrist, so he can run a thumb over
my cheek to remove some of the falling tears, but I slap it away hard, hand stinging with the collision
and glare at him more defiantly.



“I told you. I’m done. You don’t get to keep doing this to me.” I sniff back tears, yank my other hand free
and turn on my heel, turning my back on him to walk away. Confusion crashing through me once more
and I just want to get out of this emotional rollercoaster he always throws me on.

“I’m not going to let you go this time; you can fight me, run, and push me away, all you want. I’m not
going to back down and leave you again, I’m never going to leave you again. Life has no meaning
without you, Sophie. I regret every second of every minute that I let you leave me and I’ve spent weeks
trying to figure out how to breathe without you. You’re stuck with me, whether you want me or not and
nothing you say is going to change that. Last night proved to me that you still love me and that is all
that I am betting on right now. That’s my tiny glimmer of hope and I’m going to cling onto you like a
dying man, Sophie.” Arrick’s voice breaks and I freeze, tears pouring down my face as my heart thuds
through my chest at his rush of words. I stay still, like a marooned stone, when the tide has gone out,
staring at the house looming above me as he moves closer. Unable to think straight and caught as my
heart chooses to stop my feet from moving, while my brain tells me to run fast and far away.

“I know I have a lot to answer for and make up to you. All I need is a chance to talk to you, sober. Time
to really tell you everything. Please?” His breath tickles my cheek, my resolve weakening, and I get
angry at how pathetic and weak I am. That I am even considering letting him win me around and listen
to him, to cure the pain he causes me. Natasha appears in my mind’s eye to serve as a reminder and a
taunt.

I’m as pathetic as her.

“What about her? Sat in your mom’s house like a good little puppy?” I bite, anger and agony colliding
and that age-old feeling of guilt where Natasha is concerned, finally winding a path to my conscience. I
guess it was delayed with shock at the house and now it’s sunk in that she is here, I am starting to get
the inklings of shitty-ness where she is concerned again.

Sometimes I hate my own head so much.



“She came because she needs a friend, nothing else. She doesn’t matter in this. You’re all that matters
to me right now … I’ll explain all of it. Let me come inside, or we can go somewhere else.” Arrick tries
to turn my face to him but I pull away, so much mistrust for him and an inability to think rationally when
he gets too close.

“So, talk. Right here.” I pout, pulling my arms across my chest defensively, chin up and glaring across
the gardens in a bid to keep my eyes away from his. He wanders around into my eye view, coming to
the front of me a little more confidently and I hesitate.

“You can yell at me for this but needs must. I’m not doing this in the street, Sophs.” Arrick steps in front
of me, confusing me to what the hell he means and then shocks me by bending down and throwing me
over his shoulder. I start protesting right away, wriggling and fighting him, trying to haul myself off and
slapping at his shoulder and back, but he just ups and starts carrying me towards my parents” house.
Steadily sure he has a right and marches me to the door in easy strides. Not stopping to knock, he
opens the door and immediately starts heading for my room via the sweeping stair to our left. So used
to this house that he has no fucking shame about barging in.

“Put me down you asshole. I hate you so much!! You have no right to even do this to me. Put me
fucking down!” I yell at him, okay, scream more likes, catching sight of my mom walking across the hall
in her bathrobe and looking our way. She seems as confused as I am, takes in the fact I am wearing
last night’s dress and no shoes and then turns and walks off, like Arry hauling me around during a
seething screaming match is not a big deal. I almost shout after her in a utter angry rage.

Thanks, Mom … Real fucking help.

“I’ll put you down in your room, you can go crazy at me there, but we are talking privately. Not out
there.” Arrick doesn’t sound anything except normal, even with me wriggling and fighting to get put
down and his stubborn stronghold, keeps me captive.



“FUCK YOU!” I scream so loudly it rasps my throat painfully, as we get up the stairs and closer to my
bedroom. He doesn’t respond, carries me in, turns and shuts the door and locks it before sliding me to
my feet and making a move to get out of my way fast. He literally darts sideways because he knows
the explosion that’s about to erupt. Obviously expects a retaliation, and for once he isn’t as dumb as he
seems.

I lash out like a hellcat who has just been released from a cage, flying for him in full fury as he dodges
me, darting backwards on infuriating fast feet and keeps dancing around out of my way, a hand out on
my head to keep me at a distance and dodges every swing and kick I aim at him. I would make Leila
the crazy tornado proud with my hysterical violent attack as I chase after him.

“I hate you!” I scream in rage, tears dried up and fury in place, getting frustrated at him that I can’t
maim him in any way. Aiming slaps, midair kick swipes and flying hands at him, getting psychotic as
hell. I pull his hand off my head and storm to the nearest set of shelves. I pick up the first object, which
is small a trinket of a fairy on a tree stump and throw it at his head in sheer rage. Arrick ducks, with it
whizzing past his head at speed, smashing on the wall behind in an anti-climactic end and he stops to
smile at me, a wicked glint in his eye and maybe a little amusement.

“I knew you were going to be mad, but Jesus, Sophie …” He ducks again as another figurine flies his
way. Looking less smug as he realizes I am standing beside more than three dozen potential missiles,
each getting bigger, and I intend to use every one.

This time he dashes forward grabbing me, trying to hold my arms behind my back as I aim for him with
bites instead, legs moving to kick at him, lost in the rage he’s caused. Crazily explosive and looking to
hurt him an ounce of what he’s done to me in the past months and not caring if I feel guilty about this
later; it will be worth it. Months of pent up hell coming out in one mental turn, unleashed. Arrick blocks
my legs with his knee, quick with defensive maneuvers given his training, bends down and stops me
with a kiss.




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