The Carrero Contract - Selling Your Soul (Mafia Romance)

“Please,” I whisper it so quietly, begging him to stop questioning, to just take what I’m offering him. He surely understands my reasons. I close my eyes when he finally leans up and pulls one end of the strap and tugs it off my wrist slowly. The material sliding coldly and making me shiver. Eyes on what he’s doing, and I exhale, appeased that we are still going ahead even if a part of me dies a little inside. Like an idiot because I started this.

I wait with bated breath for the dreaded feel of leather on my skin, but nothing happens. Anticipation makes me tetchy, heightening my senses to alarming levels and I notice every noise and sensation. I'm antsy and I can’t stand it anymore.

Instead, the slide of the one around my neck startles me and I gulp in air, jumping slightly, realising he might start with leashing me and tying me after he gets a makeshift collar on me. A lot of men like Alexi like to have you leashed and tied up for full control. I have endured it during some of the worst moments of my life, but I’m trying to separate those memories from this moment, for him.

I try to hold still, heart pounding with that tiny scare, anticipating the feel of his touch, trying to hold myself together, but still, nothing happens; I’m forced to flutter my eyes open to look and see what he's doing, he feels so still beneath me. Unnerving me with his silence so that I cannot bear it anymore.

I blink at him in the low light and realise Alexi is sitting looking at me, holding nothing in his hands, just appraising me calmly with such an odd expression on his face.

“What are you doing?” I mumble, seeing this whole thing disintegrating into a ruined surprise I completely ballsed up. Alexi doesn’t look anything—just deadpan seriousness and no hint of a clue to what he is thinking.

“I don’t want this.” He lifts one hand and runs a gentle stroking caress down my cheek, igniting familiar tingles and reducing my fight-or-flight response dramatically. A familiar loving touch to remind me he will never make me feel threatened. It works like a heavy blanket being draped around me on a cold night and stills some of my manic trembling.

“Yes, you do. It’s what you like. It’s what you need, and I want to be what you need.” A lump of emotion catches in my throat as I realise how badly I’m failing in this. Suddenly tearful because the one thing I’m good at is having no effect on him. I seduce, I use sex and supply satisfaction to men. It’s what I’m good at. I spent my life being a seductress and master of sex, yet here I am unable to get my husband to partake in his own fantasies.

What the hell has happened to me?

“You’re already what I need. I don’t need this, and I know you don’t want this either. You don’t bind your queen; you worship her as an equal.” Alexi picks up the belt from the bed where he laid it and tosses it across the floor away from us, picking up the second, does the same to make it clear he won’t be using them and has no desire to do so. I watch them fly and land ceremoniously with a complete sense of failure.

“Stop it.” I cry in alarm grasping for them and missing completely, too slow, panic setting in that if I fail to be all he desires and needs, then one day he will go looking for that kind of satisfaction with someone else. This was about proving to him I trust him and it’s all falling apart. Sudden hysteria rising out of me, based in fear and inadequacy, and I move to get off him to go retrieve them.

“No. Listen to me. Stop it, Cam.” He catches my wrists and pulls me to face him, dragging me back gently, holding me still, bringing me to a complete halt as that bossy tone takes over. He is so serious, looking at me like a schoolteacher chastising a wayward child. He pulls me closer, lets go of one of my wrists and cups my jaw instead, bringing me to lean into him so we are almost nose to nose and taking control of me and my hysteria. I’m breaking inside, body haywire with conflicting feelings and thoughts, and my breathing is hitched as he stills me.

“I never needed that for getting off, it was never about that. It was about distancing myself from the women I fucked. Seeing them as objects and making them unable to touch me back. It kept them under control, the emotions out of the sex and impersonal. I’m not into bondage, Cam, it was a means to an end and just became a way of life. A habit to get what I wanted without complications or over clingy women, and a part of my everyday mask as Alexi Carrero—Mafia boss. Listen to what I’m telling you … I don’t want it.” He holds me tight until I stop blinking at him in stupefaction and my brain slowly catches up to what he's saying. Gawping at him and trying to absorb those words.

“What? I don’t understand.” I blink back the despair swirling through every cell and stare at him fully. Locking a questioning look on that handsome face.

“I didn’t want the touchy-feely shit. Look what happened when we had sex … you were someone I allowed to wrap herself around me and you got inside my head, inside my heart. To the point where I was craving your touch, your kiss. Everything I tried to avoid for years. I don’t need that shit anymore, Cam, I just need you and the way we are. Sex with you is the best I have ever had, and I would never change how we do it. You are the most amazing thing in my life, you have to believe that.” The feels from what he says hit me hard, a lump forming in my throat that almost chokes me and I throw myself at him, wrapping my arms around his neck and hold on tight. Unexpectedly overcome with heavy heartbreak or heart happiness, whatever it is that consumes your body painfully while feeling utterly high and yet prone to a sob fest of tears.

“Please don’t be lying to make me feel better,” I mumble against his throat as I squeeze him in desperation, but he just hugs me back, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me into a tight little cocoon. He manoeuvres us to our side so we can both stretch out and lie down on the bed, and presses me flat against him, from toes to nose.

“I told you I would never lie to you again and I'm not going to. The thought of tying you up makes me sick to my stomach. I never want to see you look at me the way you did in the club that day—the cross. The night we came here. It killed me to see you break, and I hated myself for doing it. I won’t do that to you ever again, for anything. I’m supposed to protect you, not put you in a place that hurts you, and this would, even if you say it won’t.”

And just like that for the second time in two days, he completely breaks me, in a good way though, and I crumble into a shocked sob, turning to a liquid mess while wrapped in his arms. I cry so dramatically he squeezes me tighter and buries his face in my hair, stroking my back and shoulder with his free hand.

“I wanted to prove to you I trust you.” I sniff against him for what seems like forever as those strong arms surround me and gentle hands pull the strands of hair out of my now disintegrating hairstyle and twist them slowly to soothe me in the way he instinctively knows how. His touch a balm to my pain.

again. You’re my queen, I’ll never want this with you for as long as I live. If you think I will look

will love

fully. Understanding more than most the need to have a different

out this side of me, to dig deep beneath my layers to find

show you how it’s done?” He nudges me with his knee between my thighs suggestively. I dry my messy face and manage to muster up a smile, heart filling and all doubts dissipating. He always knows how to make it

grin, trace his face with my thumb and swoon when that sizzle of electric we so easily ignite, rolls through my

you’ll soon find out.”

do as I’m told, squeezing them tight and lean back as he kisses me passionately, easing me onto my back until he cages me expertly, moving himself to hover over my body. Kisses, teases, caresses as he positions us how he wants, and I completely relax under this kind of domination.

do a hundred times a day, submit to his bossy sexy side where I know his touch will never be harmful or cruel. I trust

down when he breaks away. His breath spanning my cleavage and then abdomen, igniting tingles and flutters inside me and I arch up when his hot, wet tongue and warm, soft lips connect with my skin. Working across my pelvis where my lace lays, deliciously slowly, and works it down until he pulls them halfway down my legs, kissing my thighs and the inner softer areas gently on the descent.

them from one leg completely, discarding them where they are and

for that most

so he gets unrestricted access, my body melting into a useless, weightless mass of liquid

my life, moaning his name as I claw at

the runways. Apparently, someone poisoned the poor pilot with pistachio cake, not realising he had a severe nut allergy and almost killed the man. Bloody helicopter crash due to cake poisoning has to be one of the most farfetched reasons to delay

not as bad as the time I had to fly from Chicago to New York and the pilot died when his lift plunged several floors of the

schedule our flight back early

rather broody manner that signals he wants space. He spent another thirty minutes locked in a study downstairs making calls, and by the time he climbed into bed with me I was already asleep. Waking up to his smiling, happy self and didn’t ask about the details

plans get side-tracked. I can feel the restless energy coming off him in droves, and no amount of booze will settle him until this is over. I feel a tiny bit out of my depth with the brewing atmosphere and know that the only cure for him will be

the sun go down. We stayed home for the rest of the day, ordered takeout, lounged around and teased each other mercilessly. Removing all previous memories

before business and when I was suitably chilled and sleepy, fed, satisfied, and no longer wanting sex, that’s when he called his father and left me to snuggle on his side while he was away. Surrounded by the cosy smell of him, content for once with a calm head and no stupid suspicious thoughts

his mother and as much as it pains me

all my expectations out of the water with whom he can be. He makes me happier than I

makes it even more special. No one gets to share what I have with him; no one gets treated this way except me. I’m his queen, his world and he makes me believe it with every second he showers me with this love and attention. I wouldn’t change who he is, not even the other side of him as he needs both to survive and I can’t love

to see Mico’s car at the entrance, and nothing is there. I sigh heavily, knowing the last thing he needs is a reason to be angry. Not a good start when Alexi is already gearing himself up for a showdown with that woman and reverting into bossy commander. He hasn’t told me what’s going to happen, and because of this stupid mess up with flights, I guess he's taking me with him and will probably have to sit in the car outside. I

it. His head is on other things and he doesn’t need me having a little anxious meltdown adding all up in there to distract him. He needs to be focused and in control and just put an end to this shit so I

mentioned his gun. I get so

four I spot in the distance in relief, and Alexi picks up our bags and pushes me gently toward where the car will pull in against the kerb. We are running late after a flight delay on top of the chaos of the closure and we really are cutting

in the back with a smile and a kiss on the cheek. He offers rushed congratulations and a wink before Alexi jumps in beside me. Mico's obviously happy for my new title as Mrs Carrero, and I give him a

somehow his fault, and I cross all my fingers and toes impulsively, praying to God this goes well and Alexi comes out unscathed. I have no idea what this meeting is even for. No clue what they will discuss or what outcome there will

seatbelt to clip on, checking I’m buckled in before he does his own and pulls

to look beautiful, stay quiet and do not react to anything that is said or done in that room. I need you to be my girl, the one who keeps her shit together and shows them how strong a queen she is.” The serious tone and intense way he’s leaning into me send

out, anxiety and panic rising like bile in my throat, my body stiffening in terror and he squeezes my hand to calm me, stroking back a strand of my hair gently