The Carrero Contract - Selling Your Soul (Mafia Romance)

‘Cam, it’s not what you think. I swear.’ He looks ashen, I’m not sure how to read his body language, but he seems to be unsure as to what to do, and I stand like a panicked animal held in a trap. Looking for a way out and itching to turn and take off as fast as I can. My body seems frozen in fear as that predator moves in on me and my heart is almost crashing out of my ribs in response.

‘Just let me go … take your club, your money, your apartment. Rip up the contracts. I don’t want them. I don’t want anything from you.’ I’m sobbing as I try to back out, but the door has swung behind me a little and I have to turn to pull it open, frantically struggling with its heavy weight and grasping manically for the handle. I can feel him getting closer as he moves in on me and it spurs my fight or flight instinct. Finding the strength to give it a mighty yank open and hightail it into the hall away from him.

‘Cam. They don’t matter to me. They never did, it wasn’t about the club. Don’t leave me like this, you need to know…….’ Alexi calls after me, coming at speed, and I close my eyes tight as I hit the lift button and beg for it to come fast; Feet unable to stay still on the carpeted floor and almost dancing in terror as I urge it to hurry.

‘I have to go.’ It’s a broken, tiny whimpering voice, and yet he hears me. I can’t look back at him but I can feel his heat close to me as he comes towards me.

‘Listen to me … please.’ Alexi is right behind me and I freeze when he closes in against my body and back, hands on my shoulders to get a hold of me. My whole body moves to high alert, jumping in sheer terror as both memory of my past, and memory of things he did to me, shock me like a high electric volt, and he lets me go instantly.

mean to come at you from behind. I didn’t mean that. Cam, I’m sorry, honestly. I don’t want to scare you.’ He sounds weird, tripping over his own words as I recoil away like a scared rabbit and wrap myself up in my own embrace, still clinging to my things desperately like some sort of lifeline for getting away. I stare at him warily as he backs off, his hands up in a defensive truce gesturing he isn’t coming

looks as distraught as I feel. Brows furrowed over sad eyes that seem to have lost all hints of colour.

you to listen. I need to explain.’ His eyes mist over too and his skin pales, he’s looking at me so pleadingly it strikes a pain in my heart, but I just shake my head, lip trembling with the force of my own fear and

who gets off on crushing girls like me to death and I mean nothing to him—I never did. He told me that often enough and I would be a fool to ever believe someone like him could ever love or

wrist firmly so I can’t dash in, holding me tight, and I turn on him, eyes wide as I choke back on desperate cries; unable to formulate a sentence through garbled words and sniffs

don’t leave me, I’m begging you. I don’t want to go through that

your toy? ’ I cry at him, knowing I should close my eyes and ears and block him out. He’s the devil incarnate, and