The Carrero Contract - Selling Your Soul (Mafia Romance)

I try my hardest to play it cool through an excruciating dinner with upper class gangsters. It’s obvious that’s what they are, yet everyone is living the fake normal life out here and it’s all behind closed doors. There are smiles and polite conversation about their monotonously boring lives and over-primped wives as they guzzle down overly priced food and act like they like their present company.

We are sat in one of this town’s most prestigious restaurants, surrounded by opulent settings and a sparkling chandelier over my head that is practically blinding us with light. A group of porky men with way too much cologne and wives that have had to be tied into their frocks to hold in the overindulgence. A lot of jewellery on display, so much so the dazzle has given me a headache and the men can’t seem to keep their bulging eyes off my cleavage.

Seems Alexi isn’t impressed with my choice of outfit and I did dress to just piss him off. He said conservative, yet he wants me to bend over and get fucked right after, so I dressed for the part. Ex-hooker turned mistress—in a very tight, low, and revealing little number that clings to every curve and stops mid-thigh. Cleavage popping, harlot red like my hair and laced up so tight at the back that it’s almost defying gravity in keeping my breasts covered.

I know I am rebelling and I will probably regret this decision very soon with the way he keeps glaring at me, but I should embrace the fact that life with Alexi Carrero is going to kill me one way or the other and at least if I stop trying to obey I will have some control over the inevitability.

He might choke me through sex this time and not let up until I no longer respond. It would be a blessing in disguise.

I sip on my fourth glass of red in a bid to drown out the mundane company and fuel my inner bravado. I feel tipsy and almost start to enjoy the waves of hostility coming my way.

‘‘You’re a very beautiful asset.’’ One of the suits' voice waves my way and a moustache covered smile follows, eyes firmly locked on my tits as I zone back into the conversation. His dowdy grey-haired wife is looking at me as though she wants to ram her shrimp fork into my eyeball and I smile politely. I’m guessing he asked Alexi if I was his wife and got his bog-standard reply of ‘’Hostess to my exclusive club.’’ He would never admit to having anything that remotely constitutes some sort of connection to a woman, that might be mistaken as a relationship.

‘’Thank you, I do try. Alexi likes me to shine when he shows me off.’’ I add with charm, but laced in sarcasm and get that cool set of greys thrown my way with an evil glint of displeasure. Same look this dress got me from the moment he took my jacket off as we started to sit at our table and saw it. Surrounded by eyes waiting to pounce on him, he couldn’t react, and he’s been simmering ever since.

smiles. I can see why he never smiles much at the club.

class all idly chit chatting and drinking expensive booze in elegant surroundings that use way too much gold

somehow, he just seems to fit in all the elegance of the glamorous setting. Alexi is a thug who can pull off class. It’s disconcerting, but I guess being raised in a billionaire family entrenched with generations of mobsters it gets inbred. He can sit confidently in a plush red padded chair and use an array of cutlery like a pampered pro.

and it’s a lot less work for maximum profit than scraping the streets for enough to eat. I learned young that to succeed in more than survival you had to up your

afraid to demand it. With money comes a whole other world of depravity. Upping my game just opened me up to

to get anywhere I had to keep it a part of my arsenal. I just didn’t want

take off and never go back. Who knew undergoing surgery to save my life and fix the damage he inflicted would open a passageway of escape and give me enough freedom to run as fast as I could.

in the state I was in, and the looks I got boarding a train in a bloody hospital gown with a black bag in my hands with all my worldly possession didn’t deter me. I was nineteen,

at the back of my mind is the thought that Rick might

holds out his arm. They are probably the sweetest couple at the table, and he is the only one, minus Alexi, whose eyes haven’t been glued to my bodice all through dinner. He takes his wife and helps her out of her chair so very carefully, as though she is a precious gem and I can’t help but watch with envious fascination. The way he obviously

a complete Adonis and the infatuation is evident. If I was another girl I would go as far as saying it’s cute in a way, wholesome if you liked that kind of thing. I have no idea why it

The rising of the pair give way to more couples getting up to head to the ballroom floor and it’s not long before Alexi and I are left alone, and he looks like he has no intention of dancing with me. He’s been cold, more so than normal, and I

he was invested in my cleavage, but that’s not what this is, he’s in thinking mode

what you long for?’’ He nods after the couples on the floor and I blink at