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.

front of them to chat about God knows what, both 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 Gino at the same time, all smiles and happy faces. The others are all lounging in a little group as they all intermingle and chat as a whole. It’s effortless and comfortable. They gel, they

a plane full of white

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

that what you think this is? I’m annoyed because you’re sitting quiet and not blending in?’ He lowers his tone to a growl to match the volume of mine, trying not to draw attention

me and my voice trembles. Alexi just narrows his eyes at me. Scanning my face for signs of a lie probably, then he just looks like he always does … slightly psycho in a very unemotional

That’s always reliable anyway.

comes to you.’ It comes out like a warning and it just pisses me off. How he can turn sentences into veiled threats without any actual threat in them, and just knows how to irritate the shit out of me with a tone and a look that tells you fuck all. It’s really bloody annoying, that shitty trait of his. Hiding everything he feels and thinks under a mask of robotic indifference and I actually loathe it with a god damn passion. I hate that it leaves you always guessing

that he thought I might actually enjoy myself. Which I highly doubt! He had to have known I wouldn’t just fit in with his family

Believe it or not, I like your 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

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 grudges are now starting to spew out from that little box I swore to leave it all tightly packed away

madman and shakes

here now, aren’t you?’ He looks away as though dismissing me for something minor and

think because you gave me my job back and treat me marginally better this time that I should just fall at your feet again? Please … explain what your reasons were, as

your champagne and leave it alone.’ Alexi clamps down on me through gritted teeth, that I assume is meant to hush me before

everyone else sees

up and look pretty. Don’t question him in front of anyone! What will you do if I don’t, huh? Bodily throw me off your plane?’

to goad him into a fight, but I have all this pent-up anger in me that alcohol is stirring up and

What do want from me? An apology? An explanation? What will it change? The past is the 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

in my life been as raging mad at a single human being as I am right now. The pig-headed attitude of this man and his refusal to back down and admit he did anything wrong makes 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

my palm on the table and get up, forcefully pushing past him out of the seat to get out and sit anywhere but with

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

you away. Is that what you need to hear? You want the word; you can 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 that even