The Carrero Contract - Selling Your Soul (Mafia Romance)

Exactly one hour to the second after he left the room he walks back in, looking a little stony-faced and unreadable. His mood appears frosty and he casts me a glance as I sit on the couch finishing up my lipstick. I pretend I’m not affected by his sudden appearance and don’t react to him walking in. Focusing hard on just applying my signature red stain while holding a compact mirror.

Although, in reality, my heart skips a beat, my stomach sinks and I have to breathe very slowly to keep my calm at the sight of him. My hands tremble. I feel sick instantly and know that we are either going to fight or … well, who am I kidding. We are probably just going to fight. I mean, how can we not?

I overreacted slightly—majorly. I can’t undo that reaction and yet I’m still internally panicking like a freak and not able to even broach the M word yet.

I’m clean, dressed, made up and less ‘ugh’ after several aspirins and two bottles of water. I haven’t eaten yet as my insides are still doing the washing machine cycle of a hangover program, but I feel more human. A little less psychotic.

Emotionally I’m still nowhere further forward other than in a state of ‘was this all a dream’ but his manner brings it all back to reality. Alexi is as closed off and prickly as when he left, and it just ruins my Zen that I have been struggling to maintain while doing my face.

I sat and stared at that certificate for the best part of 15 minutes and despite the crazy manic panic running through me, there was also incredible sadness for the most stupid things. A deep gut-wrenching regret that contradicted my reaction as a whole.

I will never know what it was like to have him propose. I will never have pre-wedding nerves or doubts, and I will never have a memory of marrying him if this pans out and we make a go of it. If I even can. I will never know the highs and lows that go with any of those things, nor experience the excitement or feelings of joy, the emotions … any of it. I have nothing of that at all. I woke up married, like a clinical, manipulated manoeuvre, and it’s left me hollow and broken in so many ways. Like a shock to the system and I’m still reeling in the aftermath.

Maybe if I had all of that, my gut instinct might have not been to freak out about being locked up for life in a dark hole and abused till the end of time. If I had some control, some say, made a choice and had a memory of wanting it … then, maybe.

Yeah, the idiotic things that invaded my brain while tearing my hair out over my unexpected marriage to a dickhead.

Instead, I can’t stop obsessing over this overwhelming claustrophobia of being someone’s possession. It’s leaving a sour taste in my mouth, and even having time to really examine it and talk some sense into myself, I can’t shift that terror of being owned. A deep scar from past lives that have no bearing on how he feels about me, yet it changes everything.

I feel insecure, frightened about the future. My peace of mind and contentment he helped nurture, has gone.

I lost all of that in one drunken haze that ended with very wild sex, and lots of it judging by the mess of lube and champagne all over the sheets when I went looking for my bracelet.

I woke up shackled. A name on a piece of paper binding me to my master. Contained, entrapping me for life.

I push that aside, knowing I’m being irrational, and I just need to let this settle for a while. Get used to it and stop letting those inner fears and scars cloud over reality and twist my brain into seeing worse than is there. Focus on other things.

Anything.

Like, what kind of sex we had in here last night.

Lube is new for us, so I’m guessing I got kinky and wanted anal. I have been known to like it occasionally, when I feel dominant, kinky, and get on top to do it for myself, and drunken sex with Lexi I can imagine he was very open to something like that. He doesn’t seem like a guy who wouldn’t be into adventurous sex given past performances, and it explains why even back there is tender. He’s not a small boy, I might have to sit on a doughnut for a week.

I’m also deeply gutted that I broke my bracelet, even if I’m hating on him right now for no good reason, seeing as he hasn’t actually done anything wrong. Not by sane standards, anyway. Just me and my faulty wiring and screwed up emotional mess.

I must have caught the catch during our bed aerobics as I have snapped the clasp and had to leave it dejectedly on the table while I got ready. Something else I’m smarting over, and every time I look at it, I feel like crying. It feels symbolic to me. Breaking the charm bracelet he gave me that encouraged me to never give up on my dreams of freedom.

Ironic.

It’s the first thing Alexi’s eyes fall on as he wanders closer. His presence making me nervous like it used to, and I know all of this is psychological on my part.

I’m a goddamn mess.

He doesn’t say anything, just picks up the bracelet and examines it before dropping it back on the table carefully, my eyes following it as he does so.

“We will get it fixed when we get home. If you still want it that is?” It’s a boyish, hurt statement uttered sulkily and I sigh at him heavily, despite all my inner angst. I’m a little less crazy after having some headspace and not really looking for a cat fight with him. His manner eats away at me, softening some of my iciness.

“Don’t be like that. Of course, I want it. Stop being a dumb arse.” I glance his way, trying to be less hostile than I was, aware that yes, he is maybe hurting, and I should say I’m sorry, but I just can’t. I feel like he trapped me somehow, even if it was my idea. I can’t shake that.

He looks away from me to the side of the room, tensing his jaw and I can’t tell if he is mad or just upset. I guess he will be worse when I tell him I’m not coming. I just can’t face going outside and touring a casino when my brain is in lockdown and telling me to run away.

“Look just go to your thing. I’m hungover and not in the best frame of mind. I’ll be here when you get back. I just need some quiet and space to think about all of this.” I sound confident but my voice wavers over the last words, knowing full well he will react badly. He snaps his eyes back to me and glares with that terrifying Devil Alexi look.

Here we go.

he used to lord over. I’m doing this to myself and it’s only adding to my fear that things are

blink to stop the sudden wash of mist that clouds my vision with surprise tears. Close to emotionally breaking because I’m in a weird, fragile mood. Defences igniting and doing

not a sweet request but a fucking command and like good old Cam and Lexi, my

You can’t do shit about it; you don’t own me, so stop acting like you do!” I snap right back at him, verbalising that internal issue in

used to put the fear of God into me when he used it in the past, but I just lift my chin higher as I rise elegantly from the couch and walk around it to head back to my room. Completely faking bravado as my insides melt like goo, but I’ll be damned if he’ll see me afraid of

my haughty put-down, despite feeling far from sassy. Putting on my mask and hiding the real me

him all over again and it’s eating me inside out. I can feel his metaphorical collar around my neck, choking

behind by the wrist, tugs me so hard I spin towards him, catching my breath, and in the blink of an eye end up

and pushing his head so he will let me go but he doesn’t. Squealing, fighting, slapping his muscular shoulder because I hate being restrained and carried about and

noise echoes the room, only muffled by my cry of ‘ouch’ loudly in his ear;

me higher over his shoulder, bouncing my groin on bone and muscle that’s really uncomfortable and I ‘ooft’ with the feeling. He spins me around towards the door and strides purposefully towards the exit. Ignoring my protests and treating me exactly like I’m now his to

down the foyer and get you arrested. This is not fucking acceptable!” I’m hysterical, voice rasping my throat painfully and still trying to use my fingers to prise his arm off

you out, baby.” It’s a snarl, even if he does call me baby, and I gawp in open-mouthed disbelief. That cold sweep of genuine

and its chains binding me to a prick I

“You wouldn’t dare!”

lean over as far as I can and smack him hard on his own butt, which is moving below me as we walk. Determined to maim him and fight to the last. Alexi doesn’t even flinch and my palm

of hell once before; I left Rick … I won’t be

purposely and I’m

just confuses me even more. I curb the urge to slap him over the head as we make our way down the hall to the lift that comes up to the penthouse floor. Anger

changed man! You’re the same controlling shithead who tied me to a fucking cross!” It’s all I have to throw at him, still wriggling and trying to break free, but he just tightens his grip until it hurts me enough that I stop. He is

love you, I would have choked you until you passed out to

purposely leaning as near to his ear as I can to deafen him with screeches, and he

really said in a snarling way. No growl, no evil intent. It’s more of a

wanker. I’m not afraid of you.” It’s a lie, tears biting at my eyes and determination not to show him that’s exactly what I am right now. Lost in the past mentally and everything blurring together insanely. My chest is constricting so much, my lungs are burning with the effort to breathe

totter unsteadily and slam a palm to the wall to steady myself and I’m momentarily stunned as I try to get my bearings. The silver steel box-like shell of a lift and the sudden release leaves me woozy; the room spins a little, and it shuts me up as that awful creeping cold washes over me and turns my stomach inside out. He pulls me to face

… do as your fucking told, and I will take you somewhere nice for lunch after. Good girls get rewards.” Alexi moves back out of range of my shoes

like he just dragged me through an emotional bush and I just blink at him bewildered.

are you such a nightmare at

feeling and fighting him on, his words wound me. Like

go to your stupid Casino, anyway.” I sulk, turning away from him to the left so I face the doors and not him, trying to compose the rush of three thousand conflicting feelings pulling me apart inside. Alexi pulls me back to him again, annoyingly easily, stronger than

casino, Mrs Carrero.” It’s a smug, sarcastic little smile and eyebrow raise, and it just ignites my fury once more. That sense

forms of aggression. Not really seeing my tear-filled eyes or hearing the subtle sniff as I catch my misery from breaking through. Blind to everything except my fury, which seems to

this is fucking me up inside. Everything feels different and shaky and suddenly all trust and security are gone. I feel alone all over again. Trapped in a box with no way out and limited oxygen that’s running out. Alexi is dismissing my behaviour as me being combative and grumpy and to him, it’s banter, humour. Whatever the fuck he is reading it as, and he is acting accordingly. For once his great skills at reading people is failing him, well, not that I’m surprised. He told me I’m the one person in the world he

your new title.” He smiles properly, a twinkle in his eye and that Hollywood

floor in front of me, motioning to put it on. I slap the other one in his chest for him to hold, realising wearing shoes might be an advantage and glare some more. Still trying to

weak and vulnerable.

to impale me with a shoe.” He tweaks my cheek cutely, holding onto my stiletto I almost stabbed him with and smiles at me in sickening adoration that is clearly fake, and a piss take. Laying it on thick and I baulk at

It’s no wonder you jumped to marry me while I was semi-conscious and unable to make a rational decision on my own.” I spit back, bitterness and truth in my words, while pulling on my shoes and yank the other from him

We understand each other so well.”

we don’t. You have no

not to look at him while I get this under control and just breathe. Count to ten, let the panic pass and realise,

lot of other shit because my brain is having a hard time separating reality from the past, that’s all. I need to calm down and evaluate all of this. Alexi could hurt me but he’s not. He carried me but he’s not

Too tetchy and his touch is driving

no chance of bringing me round. Soon as we hit our floor, I’m leaving him there and getting back in this lift so he cannot get to me. I

this will play out. No one will ever drag me back to slavery. To imprisonment. I didn’t spend years fleeing and clawing

desire to just run. Fast as I can, as far as I can. From him. From my gilded cage, locks and chains, straps and crosses, and little dark rooms