The Carrero Contract - Selling Your Soul (Mafia Romance)

‘You don’t like my family?’ He asks seriously, frowning at me, and I can’t tell if he is annoyed by that fact, or just curious. He’s being his usual self and giving nothing away about what he’s feeling or thinking. Sometimes I just wish I had a little tiny inkling of what goes on in his head—just once.

‘Your family seem nice and I already knew a couple of them. I’m fine. Just not really in the party mood yet, I take time to warm up,’ I answer calmly, quietly, dodging his intense focus and keep on glancing at passing clouds right by the window.

‘You regret coming?’ He presses the matter a little tighter toned.

Jesus, he’s like the Spanish Inquisition and I don’t get why he cares so much about this.

‘No, it’s just … nothing.’ I exhale in defeat, body tensing with increasing stress levels. No idea why I feel like I owe him an explanation. I turn away and look out of the window more obviously in the hope he’ll leave me to sit here alone and let me be. I need quite head space to sober up and stop being such a downer.

‘It’s something, what is it? Is it me? You worried I’m going to be an asshole to you? Has somebody made you feel unwelcome? Have I?’ He nudges me a little forcefully and I glance back to give him an irritated look, rubbing my arm where he touched me. He’s hardly Mr Gentle at times and drunk I can see he’s more aggressive than normal. I don’t think he means to be, he is just a naturally heavy-handed person that is oblivious to his own strength. It just exasperates me and all his pushing is doing is making me feel overwhelmed like I might cry and pathetically I blurt it at him.

‘I don’t know how to do this.’ It comes out feebly, like a small broken child. I sound so weak and hate myself for letting him hear my vulnerability over my own dumb inadequacy.

I drop my eyes and go back to looking out the window, feeling stupid and ashamed, shame flushing from my toes and heating my face. Mortified that I’m admitting this to him.

‘Do what? Get smashed in the air and let your hair down? Forget to hate me for five minutes? Enjoy time in my company?’ He sounds exasperated with me and I just sigh harder. He has no concept of what I even mean.

Why would he? Even he can fit in with normal social scenarios.

‘No.’ I don’t want to just come out and say, ‘act like a normal human in a normal social setting and just be normal.’ How do you tell someone like him that you never had to be involved with people when you weren’t angling for some reason or goal? That being in a family or friends setting just makes you feel incredibly small and invisible, because no one taught you or showed you how to behave. No one loved you or cared about you. That you spent your whole life by yourself, or with abusers, and nice people stayed well away from you in case you infected them with your worthlessness. I never had value to anyone, let alone him … now he wants me to blend in and act like I belong with this group of semi-strangers and find something meaningful within myself to share with them. There’s nothing like that inside of me. Even I know that.

‘Then what?’ Alexi is starting to lose his temper, and I am aware that maybe I’m embarrassing him in front of them by not being the social bee he thought I would. By being weirdly quiet and a loner when they are all getting drunk and merry, and being so touchy-feely and family like with one another. He assumed I would be Camilla the hostess and peruse and charm my night away like a pro. He doesn’t understand that all of that is a lie, an act, a mask I wear. It’s my job to be that way and I have to constantly work at it.

I can’t relax and just be like the others here. They are doing it naturally.

smiling. Mico’s sitting draped across two seats like a kid with Mandy’s hand in his, stretched across to her; Doe-eyed and talking to one each other and

black sheep in a plane full

in front of them, you should have left me in the city,’ I snap back at him quietly, trying to keep my voice hushed so they don’t hear us, and Alexi just sighs at me, tapping his thumb on the table. I can tell he is getting increasingly agitated at my lack of playing nice. He’s

quiet and not blending in?’ He lowers his tone to a growl to match the volume of mine, trying not to draw attention either as those noisy passengers further down erupt into laughter at something that’s been

person when surrounded by people who don’t want anything from me.’ I blurt it out tearfully, sadness getting the better of me and my voice

That’s always reliable anyway.

of me with a tone and a look that tells you fuck all.

motives were purely just that he thought I might actually enjoy myself. Which I highly doubt! He

company, for the most part.’ He looks away sulkily, furrowed brow, eyes gaining stormy dark hues and that edge to his tone; Always a fucking dig in his words that takes what he says and makes it

why you spent so much time and energy trying to kick me out of your life last time around?’ I snap in response, still holding on to ounces of hurt and resentment for all that has gone on before. I knew drinking was a bad idea and my mess of emotions and old

glares at me. That deathly anger of a madman and shakes

as though dismissing me for something minor and I lose my temper completely. Blood and rage bubbling up like an

me. You think because you gave me my job back and treat me marginally better this time that I should just fall at your

down on me through gritted teeth, that I assume is meant to hush

about what everyone else sees and thinks of

pretty. Don’t question him in front of

all this pent-up anger in me that alcohol is stirring up and it has nowhere else to go except at him. He caused it and now it’s bubbling away inside

past and I brought you back, didn’t I? I cannot undo what I did but it doesn’t mean I don’t regret it. Sorry is just a word … One I have said to you already!’ It’s an effort to pipe me down with hushed angry words but it

me want to smother him with his own jacket. Sorry may just be a fucking word but it happens to mean a lot when someone has royally screwed you up and treated you like shit. He has never actually told me, not once, that he was sorry in a meaningful way for what he did with any real kind of remorse. He has only thrown it at me to get me to obey him and I don’t for a second believe

seat to get out and sit anywhere but with him, and jump when he

against him, held taught with his vice-like grip on me, side on and unable to move as he restrains my arms to my sides with a force that silences me. My breathing laboured and heart thudding inside my ribcage as every part of me rises to outrage

have it … Sorry. Sorry. SORRY! Does it make you feel better, hate me any less? Magically undo the shit that went on before?’ It’s delivered in