The Carrero Contract - Selling Your Soul (Mafia Romance)

I leg it around the front of the building onto the open pavement and run straight into the smug bastard, thumping into that hard wall of intimidation and muscle standing waiting on me. I didn’t see him at all. I literally ran straight into his goddamn chest and arms and get lifted right off my feet in an angry swoop that gives me no chance of changing direction. Breathless, panting and sweating from exertion, and he just strolled out the front bloody door catching me blindly.

‘‘Going somewhere London? We have more than one exit you know.’’ He sounds amused rather than angry, but I know that’s not what that is. He’s in devil mode and his amusement masks simmering rage. I try to wriggle and fight him off as he carries me back inside the gloomy club, feet dangling pathetically and no fight in me as I try to recover from my sprint. He barks at everyone who stops to gawp.

‘‘Everyone out!’’ He yells it into the silence and I go limp, fear washing through me as I realise this isn’t going to end well at all. Emptying the room is not a signal for a cosy little chat and a heart-to-heart. I can’t escape, he’s too powerful, and he has me caught up in a hold that’s making it hard to breathe, holding me tight enough to crack ribs as I wither with cold panic in his crushing grip. There’s a scattering of feet as people exit from any door they can, knowing better than to disobey, and the room is cleared barren in a nanosecond.

They all know who to fear and all he needs to do is click his fingers and everyone scatters to the wind. No one is going to stick around and help me. I wouldn’t stick around to help either if it was me.

There are no windows in this club, so apart from the light from the small high portholes he had installed and the electric mood lighting, we are in the gloomy darkness of a deserted bar and as it’s a club, every wall is soundproofed to maximum effect. No one will hear my screams.

Alexi walks me forward, focused on where we are going as I start to struggle again, my legs dangling above the floor by two feet and held taught against him, my arms tight to my sides and crushed to his chest as I have tip over his shoulder. He has me higher than his head and is making this seem like I am weightless. I could kick and damage him with my heels, but I think that would just add a level of stupid to what I have done already.

‘‘I’m sorry. I’ll behave, just put me down. Alexi, please …’’ I start to tremble, fear coursing through my veins, but my tears mean nothing to him. He has no soul, and he might not hit women, but he finds other means to punish us, and I don’t want to experience anything he can throw my way.

I recoil into docile weight he is dragging along effortlessly, old habits die hard when I know that fighting is futile. I just defied him in front of his own people and now he’s pissed, cold and closed off and that’s when he is at his worst. I need to just revert to submissive and hope he gets over it quickly.

master card and swipes one of the boudoir doors pushing it open harshly and drops me on my feet uncaringly, so I go over on one ankle and yelp in pain as he gets us inside. He doesn’t stop to right me or even care that I cried in pain. The lights blink on automatically, with being motion sensors and I pale as

in that this room is full of BDSM playthings and a huge cross in the middle with straps to anchor his victim to. Alexi knows my fear of being restrained and being taken from behind is enough to make me an emotional wreck. He is all about the psychological trauma and I turn to run but get nowhere fast

barbaric grip; digging my heels into the floor with as much strength as I can muster. Alexi just yanks me with him like I weigh nothing more than

you.’’ I can’t help it; all my self-composure falling to ruin as he gets me closer and I fall apart mentally. Sobbing and clinging to his

don’t bind me and gag me and hurt me. I’ll die inside, more so than I

sweeps me up and forces me, pushing me against it with his body and knee and bracing me upright then yanking one of my hands up in a bid to strap me to the shackles. He hauls my body taught with the way I am stretched up, even though I try to fight

soul make him my complete controller. I have

see it, and instead, I try to put what’s left of my fight and energy into self-protection mentally, rather than physically. There was a reason I used to revert to compliant silence; it’s the only way to mentally disconnect from the horror being done to you, and the

recoil inside and protect what I have left of my sanity. I learned this when I endured so much. I try to go into that place deep inside my head as he continues to buckle me to this contraption and try like crazy to shut it all off, block it all out and numb myself away from what my

face. I flinch as every leather cuff he wraps around my lifeless limbs and waist is pulled tight and bites into me. Until I am fully held to the wooden cross and just hang my head in complete defeat, unable to look his way or focus on anything in this room anymore, awaiting my fate.

to do to me cannot damage

in my head that takes me away from here, limp and accepting that I’m going to live through it like I always do. If I can just shut it all out until he’s done. I wait, and I wait, ready to feel the first strokes of a lash or any form