The Carrero Contract - Selling Your Soul (Mafia Romance)

He could at least acknowledge that we work together. There’s chemistry. ‘’Coming here? Don’t you normally take your serious day to day work to your office in the city?’’ I know he has one; he has a whole building apparently and spends the time he’s not here wherever that is. I will let this go and act like I don’t give a shit either. Maybe pretend the sex was mediocre. He clearly must have thought so.

‘’This one is a more casual arrangement; People I don’t want to be seen with publicly, make yourself scarce. Don’t come back till after three.’’ Alexi slides his hand into his pocket and pulls out his wallet, sliding out his black plastic and pushing it across the granite surface toward me. I just blink at the credit card and then at him with a questioning expression. He still carries on with his papers and doesn’t look my way.

‘’Go pick a new wardrobe. I want you dressing a little sexier in the evenings, and get a few formal dresses for events I have coming up that I’d like you to attend with me. I need a date that knows how to mingle socially and hold up intelligent conversations.’’ Commanding and emotionless, telling me what to do even if it is with his money.

‘’Another Demagio type arrangement?’’ I snap, even though I am trying not to let him get to me but his arrogant attitude and whole non-reaction to me coming down has me feeling like I want to kick him in the shins with pointed shoes.

‘’No. I told you, that won’t ever happen again. The only man who gets to touch you is me.’’ He drops his papers and pulls his food towards him, sliding his mug aside as I watch him silently. Simmering inside with weird hateful vibes that I cannot quite pinpoint. He just makes me so angry.

‘’So, we’re still on that? Sex didn’t cure you of that then.’’ I roll my eyes and glare at him, bringing it up myself because, to be honest, it’s pissing me off that he’s acting like we didn’t have sex, and damn good sex half the fucking night. It WAS good sex and that’s rare.

‘’I didn’t think it would, I just wanted to fuck you and show you who was boss. All last night did was secure the fact that I own you; you are disappointingly easy to manipulate for someone I had high hopes for. Your reputation is more than your skill London, and I was expecting fireworks and bedroom acrobatics, not tears and having to play nice.’’ And there’s that sadistic smug smirk as he focuses on his food. Every reason in his words that remind me why I despise this prick so much. I know that is not a joke. He’s not being arrogant or funny, he’s being dickhead Carrero.

if I have food coming. He just crushed me by implying sex was dull and treating

show how to behave in a way which befits something belonging to me.’’ This time it’s a sardonic smile, a confident tone that wreaks seriousness and I glare hatefully because I know he means every stupid word coming out of

know for a fact if I dragged you upstairs right now, you would be as willing as you were last night. I can almost see your panties dropping at the thought.’’ Sarcasm is thick, and he drops my wrists and goes back to his plate, casually picking up his sandwich and taking a bite nonchalantly. He just looks cocky and self-assured that he’s ‘da man’ and the urge to knock his latte over his nice trousers is overwhelming. I toss his credit card back at him with rage in my veins and I aim it for his face but it misses and whizzes past his shoulder instead.

I am back.’’ I toss my hair over my shoulder bitchily and slide off my chair defiantly, walking

that shitty tone of arrogant prick that thinks he can rule everything about me, and I don’t know how one man can make a couple of deadpan sentences sound like the most rage inducing thing in the world—but he

towards me, out of his way, done with it

doesn’t want to be owned! How are you going to stop me? Tie me up and lock me in this club? Take away my privileges of getting to go outside and chain me to the fucking floor? Lock

not even raised in volume or tone. Infuriatingly unaffected while I’m

to stop with the threats and the constant trying to put the fear of God into me. I don’t care!!! Do your worst—fuck me or beat me, defile me and crush me down like a worthless piece of shit that you found on your shoe. You wouldn’t be doing anything I haven’t already lived through, so if you thought you had an upper hand, then forget it. I can survive worse than you can throw at me so bring it on. I am so done with your bullshit Carrero, you are not the worst shit I have endured and if you are trying to break me then good luck … I died a long

me effortlessly and I feel like he’s trying to make me insane, slowly but surely. A man who can

fuck me’?’’ He smirks at me, mocking me with a convincing British

plate of food which is nearer me than him and throw it over him, rather well aimed and surprisingly direct to the target, before tossing the porcelain over his head like a Frisbee for effect and