The Carrero Contract - Selling Your Soul (Mafia Romance)

I have worked my arse off for five days getting this club ready, and now, as opening night looms upon me, I stand out in the car park giving Feral his daily food portion. Sun blazing down on us in this gorgeous weather, warming my head and shoulders in my loose shirt dress, completely out of the norm for the time of year and I feel a little less tense than I did indoors. My nerves for re-opening night have been getting to me for days, and I’m strung up to high heaven with a constant lead weight in my stomach.

I may have grown a little attached to this snarling little ginger beast and have been feeding him twice a day when I pop out here for air. It’s become ritualistic for me. Escaping my confines for breathing space to expel my anxiety and seeing to this hopeless creature. He’s starting to look a lot more appealing these days, now that skin and bone has a slight padding and thicker healthier fur.

He’s staring at me from under the bonnet of the nearest car, his usual hiding spot, as I scrape out the cat meat into the steel bowl I keep out here for him and top up the water from the bottle I brought down. He knows the drill but yet he always acts like I am invading his space and doing some awful act.

Feral hisses at me when I straighten up.

‘Oh shush, you crazy beast. I know you are nicer than you pretend to be. Just remember who comes out here and feeds you every day. Show a little gratitude.’ I tell him off with a friendly tone and watch with stupid pride as he settles down his aggressive verbal’s instantly; glares watchfully.

The cat slowly edges out, not yet ready to trust, and I move back to give him the space he requires to make a dash for the bowl like a starved animal, even though he’s started gaining weight. I wouldn’t go as far as saying he is thriving yet, but he’s noticeably better. His coat is less lacklustre and the flea tablet Jackson crushed into his food on Monday seems to have taken care of the little infestation he had going on. He isn’t scratching and the bald patches and bloody scratches look like they are starting to heal already.

We still can’t get near him, but he tolerates us within three feet now, instead of six, which is huge. Watching us whenever we come out, and he has the sense to at least avoid the cars now. Which is a complete relief to my nerves; I swear I got so antsy anytime cars came and went I thought about banning all of them from parking here and telling them to go find space in the street. I am a little protective of my hostile kitty cat.

I pick up the can and bottle to clear my rubbish away and turn to head back in as he growls at my departure—A long, low deep noise this time.

‘I’m taking that as a thank you and goodbye you ungrateful little scab. I do enjoy our chats though … See you tomorrow, Feral. Sleep tight and watch out for the traffic.’ I throw back with a smile at him, getting a big yellow glare from his one and only good eye and head back into the building. Shaking my head at how I could find something as visually unattractive as Feral, adorably cute. There is obviously something warped inside of me.

I don’t know what made me start buying real cat food for the bloody thing in the first place. I think it was seeing it out here the morning I came home from Miami looking skinny and unwanted and eating scraps from the edge of the bins to survive.

That ginger little street rat that nobody cares about—kind of struck a chord in me. I have been taking care of him ever since. Even roped Jackson into it to make sure the cat had eyes watching for him around the clock when I wasn’t out here.

I head indoors, eyes adjusting from bright light to gloomy dimness that always seems worse after being out there. I head upstairs and catch sight of that tramp ‘Hoe-anne’ in Lucie’s old office when I get up to the door of mine and throw her a distasteful look.

I still hate her ever-lingering presence, but it’s an advantage having a skivvy to order about and do the mundane shit I cannot be bothered with. My plans for her stand-in are to train someone to such a competent level of skill that I can relax on my presence downstairs every night and do more of what a club owner does. Direct and supervise, rather than always be centre front. It won’t be her though. I would rather eat my own spleen than keep her on.

told you to?’ I throw her

catty air to her tone although she tries to veil it—unsuccessfully. Feeling between

my desk when you’re done so I can vet the guests. We check everyone who comes here, every time we book a night. Double check and dot every ‘i’, no mistakes.’ I learned the hard way that

me. I have been putting her in her place all week and she is trying not to go

he’s still part owner, and he owed me some sort of fucking contact before now. An apology, or just to check in and see how I was doing. He’s annoyed me immensely for not even one measly little god damn

I gave a shit about some random man getting beaten; it was that he attacked someone merely for touching me, in front of me, and put the fear of

I forget who or what he is it’s like he has to remind me that he’s a soulless demon and put it back in my

of the complete psycho that dwells inside him. I wonder if it’s because of the simple fact he let his guard down and fear

more than I did first time around has me second guessing all that clever and smooth aura of evil, and wondering just how broken he

of his cousins are all into martial arts and some form of fight training. He can probably do a lot of damage effortlessly, but that man was no match and completely

He’s emotionally disconnected from the act in every way

and he was drunk enough to not remember much after. Not even me. It’s all been cleaned up and fizzling away as though it never happened at all. Jackson told me his injuries seemed a lot worse

that makes me feel any better or able

crew, following in his wake to make sure Master Carrero

it’s a destination where he frequents to kick back. Alexi’s touch goes much further than our city, even I know that. I knew who he was when I was in Chicago, and beyond. I heard rumours, knew who they were as a collective family. They are known in the realms of the rich and powerful, and Alexi has a framed picture on his wall of

Untouchable.

man in a club is nothing

down with a heavy sigh and weird mood, spying the bag of cat treats that Jackson has left for me here. I smile involuntarily, a little warm pick me up to my internal sombre heaviness. He brought them from home because his wife’s kittens don’t like them and I swipe them up to put in my desk for later. It gives me a reason to go visit the little fleabag before bed and check in on him. It’s sad to admit but Feral’s visits have become the highlight of my day. Nurturing some poor little beast back to health and seeing him improve daily, gives me some sense

shelter in the far corner of the lot to sleep in when it’s raining. He utilised some old plastic tubs and cut a doorway in the side of one he upturned. It’s all cosy and watertight with the lid as a removable base we can clean. Filled

he doesn’t know about, and

tends to follow me at a distance, but never ventures up here unless I ask him to, and when I feed Feral he usually just hangs around in the hall in case I need him. Watches me on the internal door camera so I can have a little me

and softer. He’s a huge man, much bigger than his cousins in build and weight. Broad, a little tubby around the midriff, but he has a nice face, definitely that Carrero bone structure, and he smiles often. He’s a soft touch with his cats

I don’t mind my escort, he’s security when I need it and gives me a feeling of safety when I go anywhere.