The Carrero Contract - Selling Your Soul (Mafia Romance)

I just snap my lips shut, throw Alexi my most venomous look and slide across the seat in an attempt to claw back some dignity, crossing my arms once more and moving away so he won’t touch me, and to show him how pissed off I am. Alexi slides in, slaps my thigh a little saucily and nudges me over with his shoulder and hip so he can have more room. His grey eyes fixing on mine, light and cloudless, which suggests he really isn’t in a combative mode at all. He looks annoyingly chilled.

“Rude!” I snap, annoyed that he bodily moved me while smirking like a smug dickhead at his own hilarities. Nothing about this is funny. His manhandling, his manner, his fucking annoyingly happy and jokey mood. He has plenty to be sorry for.

Abduction, assault, imprisonment, all very good reasons for me to be pissed off at him.

“Yeah but I’m sexy, so I get away with it.” He really is on some weird happy sarcastic mood kick. I look to the ceiling for strength and exhale noisily.

“What is wrong with you? Why are you being so … ugh.” I give up. I’m in a strange place between tearful, afraid and seething mad and can’t seem to figure out what to do with all of that. It just has me tired. Prickly, caged in and lashing out like a terrified cat in a cage.

“Happy? Non-argumentative?” He smiles with that devilish twinkle in his eye and throws his arm across the back of the seat as we get shut inside, so he circles my shoulders. Closing in on me like prey he’s about to devour.

“Prickish,” I retort coldly.

“Because I woke up this morning and realised, I get to torment the shit out of you every single day for the rest of your life, and you signed up for it.”

If that’s what you call it? Ownership and abuse.

That cheeky smirk turns into a full-on grin with his arrogant cockiness at the fact I’m now tethered to this arsehole until I divorce him or die trying. I can already tell he’s going to be unbearable. In his head, I probably just need sleep, time, indulgence, to get over my mood and we can live happily ever after in our forced marriage.

“You know people get married to love and cherish each other for life, not see it as an excuse to deliver emotional and mental torture to the one stuck with them.” The truth in my words sting, and I have to close my eyes again to control the waterfall waiting to tumble out.

“Yeah, but you married me.” A wink this time, which pulls an eye roll and a grimace out of me. I’m not impressed with this man; from the moment I opened my eyes, and it’s getting worse by the minute. Nothing he can say or do will help.

“God help me. We need to get a divorce; I already hate you and it’s only been one morning.”

“It’s against my religion, looks like it’s till death do us part.” He scoops my hand in his and surrounds my fingers with his snugly, pulling my hand onto his lap and cradles it there. I don’t stop him. Wishing the normal soothing warmth his touch gives me was present, but it’s not. I just stiffen, let my hand go slack and don’t react in the way I normally would at his touch. That sense of calm and safe is dead. I feel restrained.

I sulk and stare out the window and ponder my life. About what I’m going to do with this nugget head next to me and that goddamn marriage certificate. I can’t stay with him like this. It’ll only make me feel worse. Like suffocating to death every day of your life, over and over—like drowning.

I watch the Vegas scenery roll by, trying to get lost in my own thoughts, resigned that I should stop opposing this trip and get it over and done with. I’m only slightly aware of Alexi’s voice when he starts talking to someone on his cell phone. I zone him out and rest my head against the chair behind me, letting out all my anxiety and woes in a long emptying breath. Trying hard to calm myself, ease the rivers of molten lava pouring through my body. Blank out the pain and fear and grasp at rational.

I just need to get my head around this before I can figure out my next step. Try to battle down my demons and think logically. I know most of this is an erratic panicked response to a situation, and it’s made worse by lack of sleep and a major hangover. I should breathe and let it all slow down and sink in gently.

I mean what’s the worst outcome, really. Sensibly, if I forget why I’m feeling like I do.

I’m living with him already, so I guess it just becomes permanent. No big horror there. If he behaves and nothing changes then it’s no different to cohabiting … right?

No. He owns me now.

I get more respect from everyone if I’m not just his mistress; I guess. A Carrero is protected and cherished in his world.

That’s not worth it.

job security because he will never fire

He totally would because he now thinks he

every night, shackled to my master and obedience whether I agree or not.

Tied to him for eternity. Possible servitude, and what if I

will be a hell of

a bed and punished for days. Alexi isn’t all that different. I’m his now. He owns me legally. He wouldn’t take kindly to me running.

blurring the lines because it scares you. Stop obsessing

married the biggest control freak I

shudder at the thought that he could change now he

see past

turns his head, pausing on his phone mid-conversation to look at me, pulling my eyes to him. Concern etched lightly on

and in need of a nap.” I lie faultlessly, impulsively, hiding the real reasons behind my shakes. Internally crapping myself for something most girls spend their life dreaming of. Alexi’s

his head to the side with a studious scan of my face. I can tell he’s doubting the truth in my words; he has an inkling I’m not being completely honest, and I turn back to the window to stop him dissecting me. Finding pain in the gentle

who knows how that will go. He

heavily as though to prove the point, cringing as he

wretched for lying to him. I haven’t done that since we started this romantic, lovers to whatever we are now, and all it does is make me feel guilty. Crazy really, considering I used to lie my way through life effortlessly and I’m sat here convincing myself he is once again the devil

myself for eating myself inside out because of it. My hand moves to my lap, sliding free of his and I fidget with the hem of my tailored blouse over the

just tell him. Give him the chance to defend himself and sort your head out, Camilla. Let him help you shake away the demons and give you

here hiding, curled up small and crying to be saved from herself all over again. I need to focus on the fact he is the one

their deep dark holes

and I curse myself for my inability to just tell him the truth. My inner conscience when it comes to

nothing at all and I realise I can’t really gauge how he will react when I’m unable to tell how he is feeling at the moment. Too caught up in myself to read

even more so when those dark annoyingly perfect straight eyebrows furrow across his face and he looks a tiny bit irritated. Just adding to

branch to talk this out but I shrug it away.

fly home until tomorrow so I’m sure it can keep until we are alone. Build up some bravado to broach this topic once more when I’m less hungover and dying. Maybe give him a chance to help me through this mess in my head because I don’t think I

once more. Breaking my heart because I need help to get me through what I’m feeling, and I just denied myself the hand of the

other end when I actually listen to what he is saying. Trying to focus on something other than my own mental breakdown

catches me watching him and my face flushes at how easily he is joking about this. It’s surreal that

he is in cool and controlled mode, but I guess it’s because we are on our way to a business appointment. Alexi wears different masks for different scenarios and likes to get in character and the

He has always separated the emotional aspect from business and put one aside when

is literally the biggest commitment-phobe on the planet and had no intention of shackling himself to anyone, ever.

understand how huge and terrifying all of this

this nicer side has never taken away from that badass persona and panther-like demeanour he has going on. If anything, knowing him the way I am beginning to only makes me realise how effortlessly suited to his world he is and none of it was ever an act. He really is a straight up gangster.

stick with Camilla. Yeah, hates it more than London.”

Ha fucking Ha.

out and stick my middle finger up at him in an unladylike retort and