The Carrero Contract - Selling Your Soul (Mafia Romance)

I turn in the uncomfortable, hard bed pulling the sheets up over the itchy hospital gown and try not to wince with every single pain that runs through my body. Even with the number of drugs they have pumped into me, it’s no picnic having broken ribs and a body that looks like it lost a fight with a train. I’m in agony and barely able to take a breath without the aching, burning shuddering waves, of a good old-fashioned beating.

Tyler and his men are animals and I hate to think where I would be if Sophie had left me to them; what was inevitably my last night on Earth if they had their way. The girl didn’t owe me a damn thing, but she saved my bacon, and now I will be eternally grateful to her even if we never see one another again.

I’m woozy, waking with the throbbing of pain after a fitful few hours dozing in and out of sleep. I feel like I have been here days already, even though I know the reality is, it’s only been half a day.

Sophie is probably long gone with her boyfriend and my name banished for all eternity for getting her caught up in my mess. Owing drug dealers a lot of money and not having the means to pay for it, is not something everyday girls want to deal with. Getting kidnapped off the street by thugs and threatened with imminent death will be a second to that.

I am just lucky she had a rich boyfriend who is related to New York’s biggest gangster; Alexi Carrero, and now, I guess I owe him my debt.

A shadow in the corner of my room startles me out of the last ounces of sleep as I jump in fright, my heart racing and plummeting into instant trembles, to see what looks like a man standing by my window near the door. It’s hard to make out properly with one eye swollen shut and the other barely able to focus in the darkness. The moonlit sky outside is illuminating him from behind so that to me, all I get is a sinister silhouette of a very large male, who is more than a little intimidating.

Standing tall and broad, taking up the small space with an aura of authority, and yet he is so very eerily still, staring at me silently; it’s almost like he’s a statue.

‘‘I didn’t mean to startle you, Miss Walters.’’ The smooth tone of a man in complete control, husky with a hint of an accent that isn’t quite New York. Foreign maybe, and so slight it’s only there in the odd little word, almost smothered out by a more upper-class City dialect. It’s as though he’s spent years here but maybe wasn’t born here.

Accents are kind of my thing, seeing as my own very upper crust London one stands out a mile when surrounded by tough New Yorkers. I made sure over the years that it never faded, and I avoided taking on American slang to avoid it.

this must be, and I blink as I try to make out his form a little more. Reaching for the lamp beside my bed and struggling to find where the nurse pushed the damn button control when she settled me for the night. I clear my throat nervously, heart hammering away in my chest, and struggle to try and sit, making a complete mess of doing so while wriggling

talk another time when you are recovered.’’ He moves away from the window, and I catch more of him in the light, confirming exactly who this is. I would recognise that physique and profile anywhere, after seeing him out there

ever forget in a hurry.

a panther, so fluid and graceful in his movements. My breath halting in my lungs as my body shivers apprehensively; he just oozes danger and command so effortlessly that I can almost feel it in the room around me. This is a man I know I should be very afraid of, and I am.

closer, my heart

first hour here throwing up blood and phlegm while they

is making this whole thing utterly terrifying. He has the air of sinister alright, that vibe of someone who will put a bullet in your head as fast as look at you, and I am not sure I want

this nervous in life; I came from the streets, I lived through hell and have met my fair share of cruel and evil men, but this one is like meeting the devil himself. He is doing nothing purposely or outwardly to make me afraid of

or make it clear in any obvious way, it’s just there, like an aura and anyone who meets them does not have

one of those men—who wear command like

me from certain death at Tyler’s hands. I owe him fifty grand because of that stupid whore taking off with everything I had, trusting the wrong mousy little bitch

became something he owns. It’s a hard pill to swallow. Head of his mafia family, operating under the guise of businessman, but anyone worth their weight in cocaine in this world knows that he’s the New York go to man if you want to conduct any business in this city at all. Without his

my bacon from mere street runners, and now I owe the main man himself my life on a fucking platter. It couldn't get any worse than that. He is not someone who needs to beat women half to death to chase up

family favour, Alexi’s new problem.

currently has nothing but the dirty clothes they took from me to her name? I have no value to a millionaire crook that has a whole city

so easily, and I am a huge believer in personal growth. Sophie is someone I care about, and I will honour that affection by taking you on. Don’t get me wrong, Miss Walters, you will pay off the debt and I aim to make you