The Carrero Contract - Selling Your Soul (Mafia Romance)

‘’DON’T CALL ME A WHORE!!!’’ I scream at him irrationally, flashing rage at that little trigger word, anger fighting to the forefront over the pain and I’m getting erratic. Whore is a word I hate above all else, a word I have been called over and over by anyone and everyone who wants to put me down. Someone giving me a label like that means they can justify how they treat me, as though I am not human and don’t deserve any sort of respect.

A whore is a choice, and it never was for me, it was a means to survive, and I am sick to death of being treated like that’s all I am. A vessel to fuck, a body to abuse …

Alexi doesn’t react to my outburst, just stays calm and unmoveable. Sometimes I wonder if he is even human at all. He’s so devoid of normal emotions and reactions, it’s like he’s a bloody cyborg.

‘’You fuck men to make money, you’re a whore … get over it. You chose that life so wear the title.’’ I swear he sounds no different to a school teacher spelling out the meaning to some random word and I snap, like some bubbling volcano from deep within, after a night of analysing and torturing myself with memories on this very topic—it comes out of nowhere and I scream at him with all my might.

‘’I never chose this life! I never chose to be this way! I was eleven years old when my mother held me down and let men rape me for drugs. Don’t tell me what I chose because I never chose that! I never chose to be a prisoner for years, or beaten and raped half to death to the point I wanted to die so many times over. I never chose to live my life running, hiding, lying to get by and I sure as hell never chose servitude and ending up with bastards like you!!!’’ The words are not enough and I am against him in a flash, lashing out, slapping at his stupid body and head in a bid to expel all the rage and pain that has been building up for hours. It’s like I am consumed with a burning, blinding white insanity. Sparks and fury flying free in a bid to expel all that I feel. Crazily apt on my limbs that were molten a moment ago as I go at him with everything I have left in me.

Claws, fists, feet and more. Alexi is getting the brunt of a million beatings that I have endured. I’m heaving air in an effort to breathe as even my lungs burn with the fiery pits of hell. Alexi is stronger and faster than me and with a flash of brute force he spins us both and bodily slams me back against the wall, almost knocking the wind out of me, and shocking me out of the barrage of slaps I was firing at him. His hand is around my throat as he pins me and pain slices through my body from the collision.

It’s enough to turn me to dead weight and I cannot swallow with the vicious grip he has on me; my throat feeling like its closing up and I choke on my own saliva in panic. I instantly recoil to weak and repentant but it’s too late, what’s done is done. He comes nose to nose with so much hatred and aggression I practically recoil into my shoes.

‘’I told you never to lay hands on me.’’ It’s the sadistic tone and the eyes of complete emptiness that send me into terrified hysteria, my blood running cold. He looks like a man who will beat me half to death without remorse or effort.

memory of men who went a lot further and the things they did, and I am in a blind panic. I know what it’s like to be choked until you pass out; that horrible awful fear and panic to breathe, while your mind drifts and fades, only to wake up to horrendous

to me. I won’t let him keep

claw at his neck. He catches one of my wrists and slams my hand into the wall over my head in a bid to

at my pitiful attempts to break free, but all I can think of is what he is capable of. Tying me up, using me for his own ends

something cold and hard under his arm within his jacket that hurts my knuckles and I instantly hone in for it in case it’s heavy enough to be used against him. Grappling at what feels like a smooth metal and leather device Alexi looks down with a hesitated glance as I catch hold of

slow motion, I realise with a flash that it’s the gun he sometimes carries. Right there, within my

without thought, and quicker than he can release me to make a grab for it, I yank it free from its holster as he makes for the same thing, knowing he fucked up by letting me at it. I knew he sometimes carried one, it’s not the first time I have seen

as adrenaline soars through me, my heart pounding into my head and gasping for air. I push the gun at his chest with speed while he is still trying to go for my arms and shove him backwards with more force than I thought I was capable of. For the first time ever, like some crazy alternate universe, I manage to physically push him back because he is caught

fear pumping through my veins at a rate of knots, sobering me slightly and highlighting the complete ‘’no way

sardonic grin that makes my blood curdle and moves back to stand casually in front of me, almost lounging indifferently. Not the reaction of a sane person at all, and

am so

his wide expanse of chest. Any other time and place he would look like a

is wrong with you, Alexi?

this a whole lot worse, and if I put the gun down now then God knows what he will do to