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.

he

would because he now thinks he

shackled to my master and obedience whether I agree or not. If I try hard and forget the ‘owned for life by

eternity. Possible servitude, and what if

away as his wife will be a hell of a lot harder than just some

thirteen. It got me locked in a little room, tied to 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

You’re blurring the lines because it scares you. Stop obsessing

never bow down and accept another master, and I just drunkenly married the biggest control freak I have ever

shudder at the thought that he could change now he has the leverage over me and involuntarily

see

turns his head, pausing on his phone mid-conversation to look at

behind my shakes. Internally crapping myself for

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

of my desire to run, who knows how that will go. He would come after

as though to prove the point, cringing as he squeezes

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

and I curse 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 long pencil skirt I’m wearing. Nervously,

and sort your head out, Camilla. Let him

If I speak, say something, maybe his part can find mine. She’s in here hiding, curled up small and crying

their deep

conscience when it comes to him is annoyingly dominant, guilt mauling me, but my fear of verbalising vulnerability is taking over. Old Camilla and old habits are hard

I can’t really gauge how he will react when I’m unable to tell how he is feeling at the moment. Too caught

for later.” I fold, even more so when those dark annoyingly perfect straight eyebrows furrow

this out but I shrug it away. Insides gnawing with

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

his penetrative gaze 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 person who has the

minutes away until we get to this damn building. Alexi goes back to his call and I can tell it’s Mico on the other end when I actually listen to what he is saying. Trying to focus on something

though.” He winks when he catches me watching him and my face flushes at how easily he is joking about this.

on the negative side even if 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

know this. He has always separated

me over this whole marriage thing though. Alexi is literally the biggest commitment-phobe on the planet and had no intention of shackling himself to anyone, ever. He

not understand how huge and terrifying all

still the wolf-like sex god I met in the first days of life with Alexi. Getting to know this nicer side has never taken away from that badass persona and panther-like demeanour he has going on. If anything, knowing

so maybe stick with Camilla. Yeah, hates it

Ha fucking Ha.

call me. I whip my hand out and stick my middle finger up at him in an unladylike retort and frown grumpily his