The Carrero Contract - Selling Your Soul (Mafia Romance)

I stand for the longest time in the kitchen area of the lower floor, knowing I’m delaying the inevitable. Alexi upstairs barging around like a crazed panther and looking to take it out on the person who just publicly disobeyed and humiliated him. I can almost visualise him in all his vicious glory. Caged, wild and ferocious while his family try to contain the eruption.

We were to be a secret … I have made that impossible now.

I feel like I can’t breathe, lungs constricted and wrapped in chains. My body is heavy, running cold with the profound acceptance that this will only end badly for me, and I can’t stop shivering. I’m so jittery. Avoiding him is delaying what I deserve but facing him is a fate worse than death.

I need air; I need space; I need solitude. My head is spinning a million miles an hour and the pain from his ‘date’ revelation is numbing out as logic and sense filter through to give me a massive shake. Regret replaces anger for what I just did; apprehension replaces the satisfaction of purging my club of his past conquests. My brain has stopped her impulsive hate attack on the man who wronged me and is now in the ‘maybe I overreacted’ frame of thinking.

I’m an idiot sometimes. Too fiery and kick out without thinking at all. Actions from reactions and little to no thought about what truth is staring me in the face.

I did overreact … her response solidified what he said upstairs. ‘It wasn’t a date, it was business’ in other words, paid to accompany him and act like an adoring mistress. He doesn’t pay for company or sex; he doesn’t need to. So, she understood she was playing a role and it was going nowhere. He separated it by making it clear it was a business arrangement and nothing else. Took any hopes or misunderstandings out of it so she wouldn’t get the wrong idea. Something he would never do for a screw.

Her attitude said it all. His attitude said it all. He was mad because I questioned his truths. He isn’t the type to lie to me about cheating. He would just say it how it was. That’s who he is. He was angry because I accused him when he knew he was being honest.

And of course, he wouldn’t see it as a detail he had to tell me about. She served a similar purpose to the extra men he takes with him, even if they’re not needed. It’s all about appearances and letting his enemies see only what he wants them to see or know what he intends, and yesterday was all about keeping me secret and safe. She was just a number to his party and not anything of importance.

He didn’t lie.

He put on a show to hide the fact there is a woman he cares for.

Me.

And now because of me being a complete idiot, he will have to work ten times as hard to protect me as big-mouthed pissed whores run amok and tell the world how Alexi Carrero’s hostess threw a jealous fit and sacked his past conquests. It’s just painting a huge red arrow over my goddamn head. Women who already move in dangerous circles and their gossip could be overheard by the wrong people. Rumours spread like wildfire when it’s something like this.

Absolutely fucking great, Camilla. Gold star for brightest brain in the building!

I feel sick with the realisation that I acted like a complete mental case consumed with jealousy and pain because I’m insecure and untrusting and carry a million issues relating to that man. I didn’t stop to let it filter or think it through and now … well, we are at war and he is probably storming around, trapped by Mico, and venting like crazy about all the heinous things he wants to do to me. Which of course, Alexi will try so hard to control.

I don’t think there is enough booze in the world to calm that kind of chaos right now. And yet another little detail I should have picked up on. He was self-medicating right there in front of me to try and keep his cool with me. I was attacking him, and he was trying not to overreact. That’s why he was propped at the bar and downing shots one after the other like a thirsty alky. Self-calming that quick to aggression personality of his because he didn’t want to fight with me or make things worse.

Stupid girl.

I need to leave him to calm down and let his own sense of logic come into play.

Which it will, eventually.

Maybe.

Alexi left me after Miami for a week, for this reason. To evaluate, think it through and calm himself back to human. He will take time to do the same here, although hopefully not a week. To recognise that it was a knee-jerk response from an over-emotional woman who has been burned by him many times. I’m praying that smart head will push the bad temper aside if I give him a little breathing space and I never have to find out if punishing me is still a possibility. Alexi calms down eventually, I’ve seen it. He can be reasonable when handled the right way.

God, I know this. I know how to approach him.

He gave it to me in black and white, that night at his little bolthole. An aggressive, combative approach gets the same in return. He can’t help it. He reacts to fire with fire, even though he loves me. He recognises this and even told me that gently is how to deal with him. He was giving me the key to avoiding this kind of shit between us. He can’t change all that he is, and he knows this, so he gave me a way to combat his worst and accept him. If I had asked him sanely, and listened, we would probably still be upstairs making out on his desk.

thoughts of mistrust were invading to stop what he was doing. I was all

bar which is now back to being organised and polished with the departure of girls done and dusted and try to shake it all away with a head toss. Legs weak, hands trembling and a huge lump in my throat which might be my heart trying to vomit itself out of my body. I feel nauseous, antsy and I’m

my foot in my mouth if he just lets this slide this time. I’ll be obedient without

anything he is capable of doing to me, it truly will be the end. Even if I know I caused

I have to keep swallowing the excessive saliva down from my stomach as it tries to bring up my entire gooey

my shit together, my bravado back and think

destination, it’s like a longing, a need for sky and oxygen and calming thoughts. Headspace in an area free of restraint

a rest. Dressed in red underwear and satin robes over fake boobs and sculpted bodies. I think it’s our pole dancers for the show tonight and try my best to ignore their

the front steps of the building, pulling the heavy wooden door shut behind me. Sun assaulting me instantly, even though it’s a crisp frosty day with a smell in the air of threatening rain. I blink and shade

the bar and I stumble forward before my eyes have really settled into

security comes through and I nod my head in his direction. Trying not to engage in case he asks me to go back inside. Blinking as I see more men standing out here, doing God knows what. Normally all security is inside but I

of them work constantly and never seem to go home or have a day off. It’s a way of life for some of them and they work longer than twelve-hour shifts. Mico never seems to do anything else except shadow Alexi, even into the night, I know he obviously has time with his fiancée and time for a

weird to imagine Jackson with a normal everyday life and family outside of these

but the thought of going back in sends me into an internal meltdown. They are imposing on my people free zone and I’m tetchy,

I need headspace. Desperately.

and closes the door, throwing out a cigarette end and I catch head security glance back with a satisfied nod. He thinks it’s me going back inside I guess and hasn’t spotted me sliding away to be shielded by the stair wall. He

to upstairs for

for a while, hidden from view by the tall half-standing wall that used to be some sort of barrier. It’s high enough to act as a shade for me. I pace absentmindedly to try to calm my erratic swishing insides and breathless angst until the air penetrates my clothes and cools me down to a mild shiver. One eye on the group of men for no real reason and

warm enough not to go in for a jacket. I keep moving until I’m around fifteen feet from them, gazing out into the street and the traffic coming and going at the far end of the long lane ahead. The club nestles in a side alley

building and its foreboding presence and shiver at the thought of him in there, on the upper floors, pacing crazily. I wonder if he can see me from the tinted-out

dress pocket, startling me out of myself and I automatically pull it out, blanching at Alexi’s name and slide it right back in without answering. My heart skips, stomach lurches and restarts its rhumba of a crazy beat with that nauseating cold flush running through me once more. I glance back at the main door hesitantly, as if expecting it to burst open and him

around my throat squeezing tightly and I gasp to throw it off, scurrying in the opposite direction to the club door like a

it for a moment

is capable of when he is seething mad. And I know that right now, he will be on level one hundred of a nuclear episode

changes of my heart, means I’m less capable of withstanding the same treatment as before. Or if he could still do it to me. I don’t want to find out. It was hard enough the first time, but after all of this, I think it

I hover over the call button, chewing

I shudder and hang my head in defeat. I will

need time. He needs a

my phone beeps loudly and almost squeak in fright at the unexpectedness of it. Proof of how on edge he has me, and I glance at the text as it pops up on my home screen. What’s left of

FUCK ARE

into a demonic fury that could melt steel. On the warpath and raking the club to find me.

when he is

I’m not that stupid.

away from the club to put some space between us, where he won’t think to look. I will call him back but not until I’m out of sight and

he is riled like this. I spent enough time with him to know you don’t go facing this version of him by choice. You have to caress and smooth down the fire before you attempt to get close. We

moment; I need to treat him like a venomous snake someone

feet before my phone vibrates again, but as I can still see the club from here, I hold off, duck my head and walk a hell of a lot faster. It’s panic walking and I’m very aware my steps match the speed of