The Carrero Contract - Selling Your Soul (Mafia Romance)

“I like a little danger, it’s good for the heart.” He winks this time, and that gets him a second flat handed smack of ‘not amused’ and a cushion swung at his face which he catches and yanks forward, so I’m pulled into his face with mine.

I cough on the fast intake of breath it causes and as he catches me and rights me; we come so close we are almost nose to nose and there it is again; the feeling he wants to kiss me and the weaker side of me knows she would probably let him.

“If you didn’t care then it wouldn’t be upsetting you. Seventy-five percent, give or take a few.” He winks, and that makes me lose my shit all over again and forget anything about fucking kissing. I grab another cushion to smother him, swinging it at his head, so not impressed with this. This percentage crap will get him maimed and if I find his gun, I will shoot him my fucking self. He just bats it away and smiles at me devilishly as I clamber back to my previous position.

‘Idiot.’ I snap, annoyed with him thwarting my attack. Riled by his stupidity in putting himself in danger.

“You’re worth it. Santagato won’t be a problem and I can sleep at night instead of watching you like a hawk. All is right in my little world again.”

Smug and stupid. God help me.

“You’re mentally unstable in the worst kind of way, you know that?” I spit it at him accusingly, angry that he is dense enough to risk his life for moronic things. Annoyed that I do indeed care far too much about it, and it probably won’t be the last time he makes such dumb decisions.

He makes me crazy and throws me off centre. He makes me doubt he could ever truly love someone, and then in the next breath, he’s torturing abusers and getting shot at to protect me. My head is so screwed up with all of this.

“Yep.” He shrugs again, giving no shits about it and looks annoyingly arrogant as he throws me that full charm offensive smile of his. Dimples and all, and I just eye roll at him.

“Why can’t you do the normal things, like chocolates and flowers? Hitmen, PI’s and gifting guns are not romantic, Alexi.” I sigh heavily, sinking back in a dishevelled slouch into the cushions to try and wrap my mind around this insane person next to me. A man who thinks torture and shootouts are the way to protect his love interest.

“You don’t like flowers. And you prefer cake.” He smirks at me sideways and I roll my eyes hard at him, even if it is true. He is such a knob.

“Don’t be a smart arse, it’s not appropriate timing.” I sigh at him, just so done.

“You don’t want some smoochy soppy asshole who buys you flowers and chocolates. You want someone who can handle shit, kill your monsters and make sure you’re always safe. A crazy mob boss with a steel dragon who would burn down the world for you. One who can take your sassy mouth and give as good as he gets.”

A reference to my childish fantasy of a hero riding a fire breathing beast. He really did read every word.

Alexi slides a hand in mine and pulls my fingers over into his lap to curl up with his, watching me intensely, but I don’t object. That craving for his warmth on mine has been swirling deep down and I sort of like this. Hand holding was never my thing, but his hands are large and encompassing and make me feel nice inside. Still and yet somehow gooey. An affection he doesn’t give often, or not just to anyone. He laces his fingers through mine snugly and holds me tight so I cannot even flex them.

“Thing about dragons is, they sometimes burn you by mistake, just for getting too close. They can’t help it; it’s just how they are.” So much loaded intent in my statement as I stare at the way his hand dwarfs mine. Looking so pale next to that naturally tanned Italian skin and he just smiles it away. Missing my point entirely.

“Just as well I’m not the dragon and merely its master. I would take the heat before I let anything burn you again, London. It’s my job to keep you safe.”

That godforsaken pet name, but I don’t really hate it anymore. If he cared all this time, then I guess ‘London’ was always his way of showing me affection.

How can I hate that?

It’s his version of sweetheart or darling without being soppy.

We sit and look at each other for what seems like an eternity, holding hands, weirdly intimate in the dim light from the lights in the kitchenette, illuminating us a little. Surrounded by shadows and silence in the room. My heart beating through my chest in a slow rhythmic timing to the clock on the wall in the eerie stillness now we have just stopped. I’m suddenly aware of how right this seems, and it does what it does—sends me into panic mode, heart shrivelling, head kicking me back to reality and I instantly feel clammy and hemmed in.

“I should drink my cocoa and try to sleep a little.” I pull my hand free, running anytime the air between us gets emotionally charged, losing my courage, and he sighs softly. Nodding in defeat and recognising that I’m withdrawing from him again. Just too much fear to just let go.

it anyway just to not stay and do this anymore.

He’s too potent.

I pause, shocked to a standstill and

“What?”

Surely Alexi did not just ask me to spend the night with him. I mean, even before, he wasn’t one for bed sharing. He was

sex, so what harm would it do to sleep beside me? I want to wake up beside you for the first time. I promise not to take off before you wake up this time.” It’s the tiny little hint of uncertainty

at

know, I know. I’m pushing and not giving you space. This is harder than I thought it would be. I just want … you.” Alexi looks defeated, back to that boyish weirdness I’m nowhere near being used to, and I shake my head at him. Instantly feeling all kinds of horrible and guilty, even though I have

myself that it is for the best. He runs a hand through his short hair, clearly stressed with how this is going, or maybe it’s just his inability to be patient with me. I really shouldn’t be surprised, it’s one area he has serious issues with on any day of the week. He has none

handle anything beyond that for the time being. Alexi nods, a little sombrely, but it’s better than a guilt trip, and I quickly scoop up my mug and make a run for it before this conversation goes around

before my own niggles and conscience have me heading for the wrong

crazily and turning my head inside out for a few hours. Torn about the choice in front

Alexi loves me.

is offering me

over because I

of all people, offering me something that only a few months ago I had longed for from him. I had been mush at his feet and would have done anything for a chance at claiming

to his confession of love was anger because of everything that has gone on between us before, and now … I don’t know anymore. The levels of mistrust and the huge wall of trepidation that this man has done so much damage so effortlessly to me is holding me back. My heart

that path may just be a repeat of the past and a whole lot of misery and pain for me, or it might not be. The Alexi of the past few weeks, the past few hours, is a complete change to the

like he is trying to reform his ways for me and gain trust, or it could be a world class act fuelled by the information, he has on me now, for

is trying to get me

just don’t know. The heart is a funny thing and when you burn it so

depths of solitude so no one can ever find it again. I’m terrified of feeling that profound

yuck. There is no other word for the chaotic tangle I find myself in and I need to stop turning this over in my mind. I

in sight, but the evidence of his being here is. The coffee mug on the drainer and the coffee scent in the air

though nothing has happened, and my world isn’t completely jumbled up into an unsure future. No sign of emotional fall out and

rests on whatever decision I make. Life will never be the same no matter which

with a second attempt at a bullet to the head. Without him, I may still have a future in this club although I don’t really see how as he would never stay away indefinitely, it’s not

laundry basket, no doubt, contains my underwear I so carelessly discarded, and my shoes and bag are sat neatly on the coffee table for me. My bracelet sits shining like a pretty little beacon and I hesitate before picking it up. I threw it here so callously, to sever all ties to him, and now it holds more meaning

back on after a moment of pause and turn it so I can stroke the charms and push the reason for his choice out of my head. I still have

to him last night; the past is the past and we shall never talk of those journals, my life back then, or Rick again—it’s done. It’s like nothing is amiss and nothing altered the world at all on the surface, and that’s how I want

and I can’t stop churning it over and over in my mind with both elation and trepidation.

told me he loves me. He

those three little words could

been like in the movies when the hero finally admits his love to the wronged girl, and she falls into his arms and they kiss all the pain away, and we all know it’s an

it’s meant to go,

this weird wave of apprehension and fear and running away because the man has already shown you, he has the power to crush you to nothing. And the

look through it all and see hope for a different ending. I trust nothing about him, and my sanity is stopping me from blindly throwing myself in the deep end once more. I’m not as naïve this time around and so madly in love with him that I will let myself be mauled by wolves at his hands, just to be close to him. This time I know I need to protect myself, and he needs to show me that I can trust him with my vulnerable soul before he gets

hell he will pull that

help unravel my crazy thoughts and let me observe him a little more closely.