The Carrero Contract - Selling Your Soul (Mafia Romance)

We get there eventually, another tense silent car ride where everyone pretends the others are invisible, and Mico just seems to be texting furiously, ignoring the brutal standoff between us. The air is heavy and dense with it and I try my best to act nonchalant and stop myself from letting anger get the better of me. I have no energy left for this and I just want to go home. I’m deflated, body aching from a night of dancing and intoxication and now I think I’m suffering the trailing effects of shock.

All I want to do is lie down on the plane and block him out until I get there and can go to bed to get the hell away from him. I’m weary as the booze wears off and the night’s events take over my shattered mind to traumatise me with visions of half mangled heads.

Exhausted and waning. I don’t want to fight anymore. I just feel all used up and suddenly emotionally fragile. Nerves frayed and on the verge of bawling my eyes out. I guess it’s because I cannot shake that image out of my head, Alexi on a violent rampage that twists my stomach up in knots.

I honestly do not know if he thought he was protecting me, or if it was fuelled by jealousy, and I doubt he will clarify it either. He’s in closed down and don’t question my actions mode. I’m too wiped out to try and care about it and just stare at the passing scenery until the plane comes into view. It’s not pitch-black outside, as night gives way to morning light but it’s still dark enough to have street lamps on and headlights in use.

Mico is just depositing us on the flight, then leaving to go back to do exactly what he said he would. Make this all go away and smooth over the family’s questions of where we are, while cleaning up his cousin’s catastrophic mess.

It doesn’t take long to get to the airfield and I don’t wait for Alexi to open my door as we pull up beside the jet on the private runway. I get out, taking my bag silently, and head straight for the stairs that are sitting down waiting for us as an air hostess runs to grab it.

‘I can manage,’ I state hoarsely, dismissing her with a hand swipe, pushing past her and head in to march down the aisle and sit in the first row that has a table for leg room. Head closed off; eyes on task and refusing to let my bubbling cesspool of strangled emotions get to me for the next few hours. I’m going to sleep, sober up and just try to get back to New York without killing him. Only way to do that is by complete avoidance altogether. I have so much anger still aimed his way that it’s better if he just keeps the hell out of my way. My insides are in turmoil and it’s not just from alcohol come down.

Alexi follows and when he gets near me I plonk my bag on the seat beside me, so he knows to leave me be, and turn my face away so there’s no eye contact whatsoever. He doesn’t stop, just walks past me silently, no hesitation and goes to sit up the back instead. Throwing himself in a seat heavily and chucks his bag and jacket on the table in front of him before pulling his phone out. I glare back at him over the top of the seats before I sit down having watched him walk back there, and turn to face the front once more.

Three hours of silence will do me just fine. He can stay back there for all I care and if he comes near me I will gouge his fucking eyes out.

* * *

I must have fallen asleep on the flight pretty quickly, a combo of booze and that it’s the early hours of the morning, as the first thing I know is a warm hand touches my arm, startling me awake in disorientation and I jump in reaction. Heart and lungs trying to leap out of my body and then slump back inwards to send my nerves haywire.

‘We’re here, get up.’ Alexi is standing over me, voice husky from tiredness, lacking venom and much softer eyes than hours ago are eating into me. He looks fed up and completely devoid of any signs of a hangover or even wrinkles from a long flight. He is leaning in, so I feel instantly claustrophobic and I shove his hand off me angrily. Chest resembling a war drum with the fright he gave me.

‘Don’t touch me.’ I’m still fuming, even though I just woke up and take a minute to grasp at my surroundings and get my bearings. He sighs heavily and moves back to let me out as I get up, disorientated, and storm past first to get off the plane before him. No mood for another him and me spat.

made for the best of moods at all. My head and body are clammy and achy from an impending hangover, and having a short three-hour nap has left me feeling

achingly bright out. I have

behind me at a distance, still quiet and being sensible enough to leave me alone as I get in the car that is waiting for us—A black, sinister, mafia standard, four by four with a familiar driver from his club. I make sure I am in before he is and move across, so he’s nowhere near me when he appears at the same side after me. I immediately turn my face to the window aware that he’s carrying my bag as I stupidly forgot to lift it and curse myself irritably.

like smog and the air crackling with electricity that I can even feel on my tongue as it tingles. I expected some sort of Alexi backlash by now, some demonic rage or punishment at how I have behaved

Not that I care

this way. Last thing I need when

screen in the now dark interior. All his vehicles have heavily tinted windows so it makes it feel like we are in a box or a roomy coffin. This one has a screen between us, and the driver slides it up slowly as the engine starts. I guess they can also feel the hostile vibes

position more casually, untypically lounging which showcases how tired he is; while I sit stiff and upright and straight as a board. I cannot conceal how much I don’t want to be in a vehicle with him. It’s written

his. A tingle of crackle between us as fury meets arsehole and eyes lock in another silent battle of wills. Both of us glare before I turn my nose back to the scenery, relenting, and try to blank him out. I’m guessing it’s Mico and he was worried Alexi had strangled and disposed of me on the flight home. My phone

let me shoot myself, then I doubt he’s going to try and

a hint of regret. My ears prick up at that and I listen despite myself, straining to hear the voice on the other end but there’s nothing. It’s too muffled by Alexi’s ear and Mico isn’t naturally a loud talker either. I wonder if he’s asking about the state of his victim or the likelihood of this event coming back to bite him in the arse. I hope it does, big time. It’s what

looking at me, and just tuck my face around and lean my head on the rest to try and completely blank him; Nose almost to the side window and neck in an awkward angle that isn’t the comfiest. I’m still reeling from the waves of exhaustion sweeping my body brutally

to signal I heard that comment and he just raises an eyebrow at me, locking those colourless greys on me in

it. I’m confident of it now. Tonight has only proved it, by letting me be after attacking him physically. The man I knew

changed all that much in the grand scheme of things, but his boundaries when it comes to me have and it gives me a new sense of power I never

want to talk to her and hear for yourself? I swear I haven’t done a damn thing to her.’ Alexi sounds agitated and I can only hazard a guess that Mico is grilling him, checking on me, and it warms

I can be heard on the other side and that little muscle twinge in Alexi’s jaw makes me smile all the harder, satisfied with the reaction. That furrowed brow and intense look that tells me to shut

You can stop texting me like a frantic father and trust me when I say … I would never hurt her. I told you, didn’t I?’ Alexi’s tone drops as he says it, as though he really doesn’t want me to hear it and my smile drops, blinking at the husky weird way it came out, and what he said as my stomach

sentence than I should. It does weird things to my insides and the sudden breathy butterflies make me antsy enough to shift in my seat nervously. It’s hard to stay mad when he says things like that and instead I focus on just numbing it all

sighs heavily and then hangs up his phone and slides it onto his lap quietly. I can see him out of the corner of my eye and catch the flicker of a look at the side of my face before he goes back to staring out of his own

and what happened in Miami was volatile and rage-fuelled with a lot of aggression, I don’t feel afraid of being here with him, not in the slightest. I don’t understand why and I don’t want to dissect it. There’s an ambience of truce in the air, despite lingering resentment and I wonder if it’s just

heat even though we are a foot apart and the air seems filled with his presence. I screw my eyes shut to mentally shake all my senses into silence and try for at least pretend sleep. I know he will leave me be if he thinks I am out cold and it affords me some silent thinking

snapping up and blinking at him in pale-faced shock. I wasn’t expecting actual touching, and I think I did eventually start dozing off because I once again feel all out of whack and all over the place from sleep addled fuzzy brain.