The Carrero Contract - Selling Your Soul (Mafia Romance)

‘So what have I missed … and are we ready for nine p.m.?’ Straight to the point, no other chit-chat or mention of last week?

Fine by me.

Two can play at that game!

If Alexi is taking the all business route to interact with me then I can handle that just fine. However, I hate that it makes me feel weirdly upset and just triggers a nerve—stupidly so.

‘I took care of everything. Club’s ready, guests are sorted, and everything is in hand. All you need to do is put on a suit and look intimidating.’ I smile drily, tight facial expressions because it takes so much effort.

So be normal then.

Not that he isn’t in jeans and a t-shirt, it’s just like this he’s more street boxer than Mafia king and that edge of psycho he keeps in his back pocket is not so obvious when he dresses down. As much as I dislike that part of who he can be, I dislike it when he is less sinister to look at.

I know … I’m fucked up. Something completely wrong with me and I probably need therapy.

‘I’m bringing a guest—Chief of Police—Nice to keep things friendly with our local law enforcement,’ Alexi smirks, deviously so. I’m not sure if it’s because of what he said, or because he is enjoying behaving like an inconsiderate arsehole who takes no responsibility for being a thug in Miami.

I knew he had police on the take, but I didn’t think it stretched as high as that.

‘Does he need special requirements?’ I add, trying to appear completely professional and keep that edge out of my tone even though I feel irritated at him. Annoyed with myself that I am simmering hurt over how he’s pushed all talk of what happened away, as though none of it matters … as though I don’t matter.

‘He likes redheads.’ That dangerous flash of the eye trying to goad me to bite, and a hint at him being in sadist mode, and I just shake my head, refusing to fall for it.

‘Good for him. I’ll find him one.’ I’m not going to react. He’s angling for a fight and being his usual prick self, probably because I am not falling all over him for finally showing up to his own club.

In a way I also sort of feel relieved with the appearance of this version of him. I didn’t trust Mr Nice, couldn’t relax when he was playing docile, but I know exactly where I stand with smug arsehole Carrero, and know how to handle him when he is this way. No second guessing, no surprises. No trying to figure out his motives. As messed up as it is, I actually trust this side of him. I know it, it’s familiar and this isn’t an act to goad me to his demands. I know what is expected of me. He’s sulking and being a tosser—nothing new there.

his company. It was sex that messed me up when it came to him, nothing else but physically letting him inside of me. Once he got into my

version won’t ever get

eyes flash in amusement

and I try not to physically react outwardly. I haven’t seen him with women since I came back, and he hasn’t used any to get at me until this very moment. It’s the first time in a long time he has put me down with an insult this way too, well, apart from calling me a whore in Miami. I take a steady breath to calm the way my heart and body just spin into meltdown, and

you preferred blondes?’ It’s there in my voice, that tiny ounce of hurt

not sampling my own goods. It would look wrong. Suspicious … Unless you’re offering?’ That manipulative look in that

I rejected him in Miami and he wants to know

I have just been blind to it. He doesn’t talk things out and expect honesty in an answer, why would he? He lives in a world of liars and backstabbing opportunists that has coloured his

have some sort of feelings; I will supply him with a girl and watch him fuck her. Just to show

my chin and glare him down, voice oozing charm. Our eyes locked on one another for a moment as neither speaks. Alexi doesn’t give anything away in that face of his, just those pale greys set hard on my blues and neither breaks the look for a long

you can work that.

and it does get to me. I’m not that weak heart who crumbled at his feet last time, and I won’t ever give him the satisfaction

new fun ones. Only way to get over your past is to take control of it, right?’ I add haughtily and smile wickedly when his face

controlled. He looks completely livid, tense jawline, eyes darkening and brows dropping dramatically. His eyes drop to his

both know how you feel about being tied up.’ He doesn’t sound so sure anymore, his own voice losing

from something or gets excited in a very happy mood. It’s how he focuses himself to control his outward reactions. Right now, I am guessing he’s

the good side to it, and I never said I was the one in straps,’ I cattily respond, insides swelling with

might explode, a weird smile that’s not really a smile, and a very intense frown for a second as he grapples to get a hold on his obvious emotions; Losing face under fire and his ability to be Mr Deadpan. It’s wholly wonderful to watch him crumble and struggle to stay in

could use one; get rid some of that bitterness you got going on, might put a fucking smile on your face.’ He snaps as he pulls open a drawer in agitation and starts rummaging, eyes on that and

in front of you in ways that get to them on every level for your

flash it his way, seeing the rage as his eyes get darker as he glances my way and off again—Making him

outburst, the jealous psycho act in which he tells me I am his and he will kill anyone who dares to touch what he owns, but it doesn’t come. He can’t seem to look at me and all his smugness and

can date whoever

that way this time as long as

out the door