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.

just to not stay and do this anymore. I need to stay guarded and in control, or else I will be sucked right back in without really figuring out

He’s too potent.

calls after me and I pause, shocked to a standstill and

“What?”

I’m hearing things. 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 more

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 in the normally confident tone that makes me hesitate. It’s

at his suggestion as

to that boyish weirdness I’m nowhere near being used

room, reassuring 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

shy smile, trying to make that enough for him for now. I can’t 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

an escape before my own niggles and conscience have

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

Alexi loves me.

offering me

frozen over because I cannot seem to digest this at

at his feet and would have done anything for a chance at claiming his heart, and now here I stand with exactly that, and it’s like it’s not even

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

him. Walking 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

me and gain trust, or it could be a world class act fuelled by the information,

know if he truly is trying to get

thing and when you burn it

first time, and how does that old saying go—once bitten, twice shy. I think in my case it’s not just shy but recoiling into the depths of solitude so no one can ever find it again. I’m terrified of feeling that profound agony at his

break from my own thoughts because I’m driving myself insane and churning my emotions into a messy ball of 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 just need a normal day, with mundane tasks downstairs and no thoughts beyond that. That

the coffee scent in the air from the machine, which is now sparkling clean and

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

I make. Life will never

this club although I don’t really see how as he would never stay away indefinitely, it’s not him to do so, or I might

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

and push the reason for his choice out of my head. I still have a severe connection to this piece of jewellery, maybe

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

over in my mind with both elation and trepidation. My entire future

me he loves me. He wants

little words could fill me with such

wronged girl, and she falls into his arms and they kiss all the pain away, and we all

meant

apprehension and fear and running away because the man has already shown you, he has the power to crush you to nothing. And the cold heart to follow through. I never knew love could be such a huge,

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 even an inch closer to

the hell he will pull that

time together, might help unravel my crazy thoughts and let me observe him a little more closely. Study him and try to gauge what’s true and what’s not.