The Carrero Contract - Selling Your Soul (Mafia Romance)

Seeing them closer sets me off once more and I’m done for; laughing harder while I fish around in my purse and wave money at Jackson as if to motion that I need these.

I can’t wait to see Alexi’s face when I hand these over as a thank you for my London themed birthday gifts. I cannot even imagine him getting it at all or breaking a smile on that moody starchy pants face of his; even better. A joke he might not get, but I cannot resist it. New York socks for Kingpin New York himself.

I try to calm myself as Jackson pays for them and hands me back a paper bag that is so street tacky that it hits me all over again in a third intensive wave. Tacky socks in a brown paper bag and I am giving them to the Mafia billionaire as a thank you for a sarcastic gift—just perfect.

I have no idea why this is making me crease up so much, or even why it’s as funny as it is, but I just can’t stop, even when Jackson hands me my greasy dog and I tuck my bag under my arm. I hit the extreme snorting giggles and almost choke on the first bite I ram in my mouth to stop it. Coughing manically as I inhale cooked sausage and dry roll and almost die from it.

‘You know … You’re what he needs, Miss Camilla. Lighten him up sometimes and put a little fun back in his life.’

Jackson sobers me instantly and it isn’t as funny anymore as his words slap me with some reality. Mood dropping like a lead weight that cures me of this weird hysteria, and I smooth down my clothes as I dislodge the obstruction and clear my throat as I compose myself sombrely.

‘I will never be what he needs. I am, however, grateful for my job … and for this.’ I get the words out hoarsely as I dangle my bracelet absentmindedly; no idea why I even bring it to his attention, other than to distract his topic of conversation and Jackson admires it with careful fingers.

‘Alexi showed me it this morning when he had me pick up your cake.’ He seems completely composed, acting as though this is a normal thing for him to hand out, and I just gawp in startled disbelief.

‘What? He showed you this? This morning? You collected the cake?’ I blanch at him and Jackson just smiles at me as though nothing is amiss in that statement; my head whirling like a merry-go-round on speed. Recovering quickly and now just intent on what he said.

her much.’ Jackson is a sweetheart sometimes and very honest about his opinions of the staff in the club, but right now I want to interrogate the crap out of him over my bracelet

a long look that just screams of

never told you, did he?’ I ask warily and watch for a dishonest reaction, but Jackson is not a good liar. There is nothing in that sweet pudgy face to say he knows what today is; despite

this is a

It was unexpected, and the cake. I didn’t know he sent you.’ I stammer while covering up and try like mad to get my head around this. I mean, I knew he must have pulled some strings to get them to me for this morning; I just didn’t assume he put that much thought and effort into it, and then asked others if I would approve. That is not the

a sweet tooth. He called them last night and had them make up a special order.’ Jackson smiles knowingly at me, a twinkle

trying not to. Alexi showed him my bracelet and asked if I would like it. He asked Jackson, who spends a lot of time with me, about my favourite bakery and favourite cake. Hardly the behaviour of the Alexi I know

how to react now I’m looking at it and second-guessing his whole

at him before looking up at the grey sky

and slide my arm into his, dumping my uneaten dog in the bucket. I have completely lost my appetite suddenly and squeeze the brown bag under my arm

hell don’t feel as smug about my bracelet as I did

around for a pen and a post-it note and scribble one quickly, so I can deposit this bag of hilarious socks for him to find. I lost

guilty for buying these to mock him, and hope he just sees them as gratitude for the London themed gifts by New Yorking him back. Seeing as it’s my new pet name for

to double check it reads well, not too grateful

London to New York … Something every man

give him the damn things. He probably won’t get the joke at all and