The Carrero Contract - Selling Your Soul (Mafia Romance)

Carrero is very good at sticking to business and ignoring my wit, even if I was only half joking. However, I like that there is a chance at long-term involvement when I am no longer under his thumb per se.

I imagined this was going to be the worst kind of deal, but it's sounding sweet to me. I get to utilise what I am already good at without worrying about keeping the funds coming in at all, plus a pretty little paycheck and free housing. I just need to try and work around the details that I have no experience in and make him see how worthwhile I can be.

It’s making me nervous, anxious, but I have nothing to lose.

Maybe Mr Mob isn’t as fierce as everyone says he is. This sounds reasonable to me and so far, he seems like a bit of a kitten that just has a grumpy side. That, I can get used to, and learn to work around; maybe he just lacks a sense of humour and is a bit of a starchy pants. He has to have some flaws in his genetic makeup somewhere.

‘‘Purely a business arrangement, not quite what I was expecting, Mr Carrero.’’ I flutter my lashes his way for good measure and try not to fixate on how sculpted and kissable a mouth he has while gazing at it, but it is very, very hard. Especially after dealing with the likes of Tyler and his expectancy of a blow job every time I picked up my stash.

The guy was a three-minute wonder under my skilled lips, thank God.

‘’Yeah well, organised crime is still a business, and I am all about profit and utilising my assets. I’ll have a designer come by this week to start going over the interiors and rooms on the second floor. I want all the extra space sectioned off into private rooms for clients' playtime and a second floor VIP lounge, themed and tailored for a variety of X-rated, plus the basement cleared for storage to free it up. I will put new security in on the office floor, and down there.’’ Back on the point and oblivious to how much I am salivating over those shoulders every time he moves a tiny inch.

‘’Lucie is not going to like that at all … ruining his little man cave and turning his shitty dive into something that outclasses him, even if it is filled with whores.’’ I point out and force myself to look around this badly decorated room rather than on mentally undressing the man across the room.

‘’Lucie does what he’s told, and now that I’m back that will be silently and with a smile. Now go get your ass upstairs while I find where he’s hiding and speak to him about my accounts. I’ll be up soon to continue our discussion over a drink in comfier surroundings.’’ The bossy tone of a man who is used to commanding people, and he wastes no effort in softening the tone.

but go upstairs and I’ll be up soon?

he wants, and that probably means women too, but I am not a puppy he can boss around and expect obedience, especially for no reward. It riles that inner defiance in

and this time he doesn’t hide the way his eyes travel up every inch of me with open appraisal once more. He

this one might need some riskier styling to pique his attention. I happen to like my style, so not sure I want to go to all that effort, as maintaining it will get arduous and I made a deal with myself to not change for any man ever again; even him as alluring as he is. I have no desire to dress up and

dealing with one another through the changes of my club and trusting you with my most prized clientele, then maybe we should get better acquainted; drinks upstairs, discussion, fine details!’’ He still looks completely serious and I smile sexily. He may be saying that sex is off the table, but his eyes tell a different story when he wanders up over

full eyeful of a perfect wiggle as I stroll away, catching sight of Lucie trailing back in from the lift and looking like he’s about to

am not about to let Carrero think that I am a woman you leave waiting around on you like some desperado, hanging on his presence. When I get up to the apartment I get changed into my silk

up here, but he doesn’t need to know that, and I am putting my plan B into action. I strip off my makeup and re-apply the barely

know me or what he is about to come up against. I have a lot to learn about what makes him tick and a lot of tells to identify to work out the mechanics of this one, but the same goes for him. If he thinks I am a regular girl with easy to read attributes, then he has another thing coming. I never do

it to my advantage. Fundamentally, most men work on the same principles, just with varying degrees of manipulation applied. If I find his buttons to push, then I will have him eating out of

of Chardonnay, and sick to death of picking my goddamn acrylic nails, I get up in a strop and throw the bottle in the open-plan kitchen that spans a whole L shape in the corner of the apartment. Walking past the sunken lounge area and his black leather sofa, I curse him out

people who leave you hanging around like your time isn’t worth shit to them. Making me wait

Bloody arsehole!

on my heel. Glaring furiously that he really thinks leaving me waiting on him for an hour is acceptable, and then completely baulk as he strolls in casually with some blonde bimbo

path from my toes and coursing through every vein in my body. Internal rage