I shake my head, stomach turning over as I put it back in my bag and hesitate, even though my heart is saying to leave it well alone. Something inside of me is fighting it and I’m not letting it go as I tilt my head back to let out an exaggerated sigh into the eerie surroundings. My inner stubborn is grabbing at my soul and begging me to end my own agony and reach out to someone I know will help me.
‘Just do it! … It can’t be worse than this.’ I say it out loud to myself, telling myself off, shaking some sense into me.
I know before I pull that card out that I have already made my mind up. I’m weakening, my health, my heart, my fight. It’s all been shaky since the day I left that hospital and I have barely been holding on for months. I am so tired of struggling to fight every day, and the thought of someone else taking control for just five little minutes is like a life savour in the stormy sea. Just five minutes of not struggling to survive is all I need. My weary soul demands it.
My phone is staring me in the face, reminding me that after four percent I will have no more phone until I go home. It’s enough to make a call. It’s almost like fate is telling me that it is now or never and I dial the number from the back of the card marked ‘Cell’ with no more hesitation, even though my heart is pounding through my chest. I wipe my free hand on my leg to remove the clamminess and I’m surprised to find my sweats are already severely damp. I won’t last out here for hours if I get sodden this fast.
As it rings, I begin to shake, mouth drying and knots inside my gut flip over and turn inside out. My chest gets very tight and I try to focus on the trees swaying in the gentle wind.
It’s not that I’m afraid of Mico being cruel and telling me to leave him alone; I don’t think he will.
I’m scared of having any connection to that fucking man, and Mico is well embroiled in the Carrero kingdom. Where there is one there is always the other, and they are too hard to separate.
God, this is so dumb.
I lose my resolve, fluttering heart giving up and I fumble, about to pull the phone away and kill the call as sense gets the better of me but a sound hits hard.
‘Hello? Who is this?’ The voice startles me; so husky, familiar, heart-warming, and he answers so quickly. It’s as though someone up there knew I was going to lose my courage and hang up.
I realise he won’t know who this is unless I actually answer him. I ditched my phone from Alexi when I left the hospital, this is a throw away cheap phone, and he won’t have a clue who is calling him. I am just so overjoyed to hear his voice, it has my throat all clogged up with emotion, and the feeling of severe loneliness for the first time in months abates a little.
I swallow down the bout of nerves dredging up inside of me and clear my throat to find my voice.
‘Mico, hey.’ I sound pathetic, voice small and shaky and lose my courage completely. He sounds exactly the same; unemotional, strong voiced with that little Carrero depth in the tone. It makes my heart hurt to hear it. Both because it’s Mico and because it reminds me of another voice I never want to hear again.
Every part of me is trembling as I close out the world and focus on that beacon of familiarity.
sounds surprised, his tone changes and then the phone seems to get muffled for a second as he either moves or switches ears. I guess
the other end, and with the effort of talking as my sickness takes over. I’m losing my voice, cracking and painful to talk and my nose is practically
bloody
almost breaks me in two. I forgot what it felt like to have someone give a shit about
Just knowing another person out there somewhere is connected to me in a genuine way is painful, in a good way. I’m so tired of being by myself and watching my back all the time. He reminds me what it was like to have a home. Even
need help to secure it so I can go back and get myself together.’ My voice is barely audible as it breaks again, and I try hoarsely to talk. It’s obvious I am either sick or completely exhausted. I’m
but I didn’t know who else to call.’ Tears are blinding me as I
I told you if you needed help to call me. Now give me your address, I’m coming right now. Camilla, are you sick? You don’t sound so good, in fact, you sound awful.’ Mico, gorgeous, caring, safe Mico.
just a flu bug. I just need to be able to lie down at home. I’ll text you the address before my phone dies on me.’ My voice fails,
it sobers me right up. That connection is never far away and I nod
safer than where I was.’ It slices to speak this time and I hold my throat as I squeak down the phone. I need some water,
now, I’m getting in my car. Hang up and get back to where I can meet you. I’ll be there ASAP.’ He’s in a commanding tone. The voice he uses to deal with his staff and it
without hesitation to save battery, not sure whether to feel relieved or just in despair that I had to ask for help,
but I’m just so tired. I have been this way for so long that I forget what anything
lingering in the grass area, and he eyes me warily from his distance, obviously having heard my conversation. Something in that wandering gaze gives me shivers and I
fifty-five minutes after calling him, weary from lugging my bags and just plain unwell. I tried to walk fast but my legs could not handle the effort and as my battery died on my phone, I couldn’t even alert him to the fact I was moving slowly. I have a low fever which I know will spike to knock me on my
edge of the pavement, and look around because it is so out of place in this downtrodden area, among the crappy cars held together by duct tape. It’s too modern and spanking new to be from this neighbourhood, so I guess Mico is already here and upstairs, which gives me a boost of calm. I guess he will be more than likely freaking out that I have passed out somewhere in a ditch … considering how crappy I sounded on the phone. Not being able
breakers when he got here, as no doubt he would have kicked them both out with broken faces.
the hinge area, and stop in surprise that he already has someone here doing this, and isn’t just going to help me fix it ourselves. I guess I should have known a Carrero would bring in a professional pronto, and it just makes me feel a little lighter immediately. I guess that’s one trait he shares with Dick Head Devil that I never hated. They take control and sort things out with minimal
in the head, but then I could never tell how much real, and how much was designed
tells me he is either a carpenter or a locksmith. He smiles and moves out of my way, opening the door like a gentleman for me to enter. He has a fatherly air about him, mid-forties,
drawer and clearing up. The room already looks less chaotic and I swear my heart melts for a moment at both
overwhelmed with the sight of him, that I push away stupidly and give myself
being so
‘Mico?’
Read The Carrero Contract - Selling Your Soul (Mafia Romance) Chapter 82 - The hottest series of the author L.T.Marshall
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