The Carrero Contract - Selling Your Soul (Mafia Romance)

‘‘I’m not about to give you my sob story Carrero, it isn’t some hidden scar needing to be talked about. I am great at moving on in life and forgetting shit that happens to me and you are not much of a shoulder to cry on. Not that I need you to be.’’ I move away to get space from him, unnerved by the way his presence is making me feel claustrophobic suddenly. My body still tingling when he gets too near and having a hard time keeping the flutters at bay, even if I do think he is Satan. I swear it has to be his aftershave or something that makes me react this way without effort on his part, sometimes it happens without him even touching me and I hate that cannot get a handle on it. The devil's allure or something.

‘’Your history beyond appearing in New York a few years back is sketchy at best. My man couldn’t even find anything at all about you before that. How come you haven’t been deported back for lack of a visa? Do we have a secret husband somewhere enabling your stay?’’ He looks blank and it’s hard to tell if this questioning is intrigue or something more and I just shrug.

‘’I’m American. I was born here and taken to England by my mother when I was two. I don’t need a visa because I’m a US citizen with dual nationality. My father lives in Texas. Dead for all I care.’’ I walk to the couch and sit down, carefully pulling my legs out of sight under me and pull a cushion on my lap to cover some of what’s on show. I’m more than aware he doesn’t go for my full-on seduction act and after tonight I’m not in the mood to play it anyway. I feel like I just need a break from the outward persona and just time to sit and let my pain relief work. Time off from being a toy for men to push around.

I just want to feel secure for a little while and not meet any demands or pushy questions while I get some respite. It’s rare in my life to ever just get a moment to feel still.

‘‘You don’t have a relationship with him then? Is he why you came back here?’’ Alexi is probing still, eyes doing a great job of not perving on the parts of me he can see, and I shrug again. Knowing when I avoid answering he turns into a controlling prick, but I don’t really want to have this heart-to-heart with him. If I get it out quickly, without emotion he might just drop it altogether, feed his curiosity enough to never have him pry again. He wants information and that’s all.

‘‘Yes and no. I showed up thinking I might have someone to call family, and he threatened to shoot me if I didn’t get off his property. He called me a harlot and the devil incarnate; fucking alcoholic bible basher. He inspired the red hair though with his sweet words of Jezebel and Lucifer’s bride. Have to thank him for that and setting me on my new path in life.’’ I say it without feeling but deep down it stirs an ember of spite and pain that I try to ignore. When it came to the lottery of parents I bypassed luck with both and ended up with the barrel scrapes of the gene pool.

I’m glad I grew up looking like my grandmother, from what I saw of her pictures anyway. She was long gone before I appeared so didn’t give me any reason to despise her the way I do my biological parents.

Alexi comes back and sits opposite me on the L shaped couch, giving me plenty of space, hunched forward as he holds his glass in his two hands and swirls it slowly. His eyes downcast on his liquid refreshment as though he is deep in thought.

‘‘Nice guy. And your mother?’’

Really? Alexi is a nosey bastard.

He likes to know everything about everyone and anything. It’s tiring, and I am not naïve. I know he collects information to store in that fast brain of his that he can use at another time. Usually to get in your head or under your skin; I have seen him do it with ease.

‘’Dead. She was a heroin addict, and she died at my feet when I was fifteen.’’ Actually, on the floor a few feet away, but who’s picking apart the details. Stupid bitch did it to herself and I watched her die with no sense of remorse at all.

bitterness about a past I have no space for hits me low in the gut and I swallow it away with the memory. People just use you and discard you anyway, it’s easier to cut off all emotional ties and go it alone. Her death gave me some sort of freedom in a way. One less controlling

Alexi, for the first time ever, has an actual facial expression that I recognise. He looks momentarily sympathetic, a little surprised and I try to ignore it. Same as the moment of gentle, it throws me and I look anywhere but at him. His mask is slipping and I wonder if it’s because he has been around me for

wasn’t worth much as family. I’m better off without those sorts of

Story of

hard to protect all of them, so I can’t imagine what being alone must have been like and losing your mother so young.’’ Alexi sits back propping his feet on the table and I notice he has no shoes on, only black socks and it’s weirdly informal somehow. As is the frank and open way he’s telling me things I never expected him to share with me. I wonder if he’s softening towards me a little after all and it’s prompted this couch sharing thing he has going on. It's surreal and a

‘’Believe me, losing her was the best thing that could have happened to me and leaving that wretched

that’s the reality of life, and I am fine with it. I know where I stand with you and what is expected of me.’‘ It’s why I feel safe here with him. He laid down the rules and the boundaries, and he has stuck to them. He cohabits and yet doesn’t touch me. I don’t ever recall a man in

for a moment and sighs.

wasn’t meant to happen that way—I apologise. I should have had more control of the situation and followed him sooner. I didn’t think he would have the balls to try and pull a stunt like that; he knows me well enough to be thankful his dick is still attached right now. I realised when I walked into the men’s and he wasn’t there … Contrary to what you might think of our arrangement I take care of my own, even if all you are

because it’s just exhausting, and I shouldn’t put any hopes on being more than a possession. Even if it’s not a sexual

and he’s paid me generously on top of that since I got here.

that all I am to him is a business acquisition, it somehow smarts a little more than it should. Leaving an

like these soft Alexi hints. That’s what’s throwing me off. I prefer the cold bastard who lets you know exactly where you stand and doesn’t care if you hate him for it. He doesn’t give

to leave before this turns into a weird tear fest of touchy-feely. I don’t fancy sitting in a sharing circle and letting out our deepest, darkest feelings. I feel antsy and suspicious and I know I am running because quite frankly, this kind of

need a shrink or an ear to bend. I need sleep and some concealer to get through the day. Goodnight Carrero, or good morning, whatever.’’ The best thing will be to go to bed

couch without flashing him any more than I have to. He doesn’t bother to avert his eyes though and I hate that fucking name. Irritation rising fast in my stomach. He uses it sporadically—I think probably just to

‘‘What?’’

…

looks strange. Like he is going for sincere