The Carrero Contract - Selling Your Soul (Mafia Romance)

They lead us to a large, carved, ugly wooden door depicting nude women mid-orgy, and I eye roll at the crassness. Suits Santagato to a T. Mico slides in front of us quickly, knocks on it several times in a coded bang while we wait silently and patiently. Tension making the air so thick I can almost cut it with a knife. I have to still my trembling body, clinging onto him for dear life, focusing on his warm hand encasing mine snugly as a form of grounding and I repeat the mantra ‘he will always protect me’ inside my head.

It’s opened immediately and two men move aside as we are let into a dark, smoky room where several men are sitting at a long table. I cannot count how many there are, eyes scanning the crowded scene quickly as my focus tries to adjust rapidly. I swallow my breath, my heart plummets and I just let him take the lead.

Alexi walks us in behind two of his men and Mico. I can tell at a glance which ones are the bosses, by their suits and grim expressions, while all the rest of the men in black coats and heavy builds are obviously security. I catch sight of the enemy for the first time and instantly want to strangle the bitch to death as her eyes meet mine and she throws a smug little smirk our way.

Sat halfway down the table and flanked by two men in grey suits, she looks cocky and arrogant, homed in on us as we move in and get ushered to two empty seats at the head of the table.

She’s older than I expected, maybe late forties, early fifties, dyed brown hair piled on her head messily, no doubt trying to look sexy. She has way too much makeup on to appear more attractive, but she is missing the natural beauty that's needed to really pull off her look. Her clothes are tailored, an attempt at sharp businesswoman, but she just looks dowdy and out of place.

She’s haggard and tired looking and I can’t stop glaring at her with as much venom as I can muster. She lacks that air of command that these ageing men and scary bosses have. Alexi has more presence in his pinkie toe than her entire entourage. She is a major disappointment to what I had built up in my head.

“Interesting. Bringing along your little toy to a sit-down, Alexi. So like you to send a message in everything you do.” She smirks to herself, so self-assured in the fact she thinks she knows why I’m here, and it gives me a moment to throw a devious smile her way. Knowing she has no clue why my presence here is so important or what I am to him now. She is about to get a rude awakening that will wipe that idiotic arsehole look off her fake face.

Alexi ignores her, it’s like she didn’t even address him at all and just looks to where he is guiding me. He leads us to our seats, in his own time, and pulls my chair out for me, patiently waiting while I slide in and he finally lets my hand go before pushing it in for me again as I connect. Deliberately slow and controlled, making it clear no one rushes him or gets any sort of interaction until he decides. It’s a power play on his part and as the room falls completely silent, I realise how effective it is.

It’s odd being sat at the top of these men, looking down the long narrow expanse of table littered with glasses and elbows. The other men in the room nod our way and give mumbled greetings, nods, showing their respect, and it’s pretty obvious, even to me, that despite it being a five-family treaty, they treat Alexi like the Godfather. Head of the table says it all. They have been waiting for him and placing him here gives him the authority in this meeting.

He sits after I’m settled and leans back in his chair before fixing his gaze on the woman who caused us so much grief. Precise in his manner, smoothing his jacket out and moves his water glass to the side out of his way. Making it obvious he isn’t in any way bothered by her presence.

“What did I miss?” Alexi throws it out there and turns his attention to Santagato with a shoulder rotate, easing out his muscle, like two dudes catching up after the gym.

I cringe when I see that man, sitting directly to my right, and try not to look at him too obviously, hoping no one really notices me tucked in here. Santagato is still a letch and a dangerous man I want no interaction with. He may not have made an attempt on my life, but he is still one hell of a bastard.

Apart from her, I’m the only other woman in the room and it makes me wholly uncomfortable. The symbolism in that is overwhelming. These men do not bring their women to this shit. Alexi has to be breaking some sort of rule, surely.

“Just our lady here bigging herself up and trying to convince us we should allow her to take her father’s place in the treaty to govern New York.” Santagato sneers at that, obviously not impressed.

Alexi laughs, that deep sadistic chuckle, as though it’s highly amusing to him, and rocks back in his chair a little more. Fixing her with a penetrative gaze that could shatter glass. I hold my breath and posture, still as a statue and just watch, unable to do much else. So tense I literally feel rigid. Alexi seems right at home though, surrounded by these suits and taking over his chair like he owns it.

“Your father never had a place in this treaty so there is no place to take, Marianne.” He fixes her with a penetrative gaze, and she has the audacity to laugh right back. Smug in herself and no clue who she is dealing with. She has no concept of who he can be and that is worrying. I might start the timer on how long it takes before she finds out.

“We both know that’s just a technicality. We were supposed to be a part of this until your families wiped them all out.” She raises a haughty brow and I glance at Alexi quickly, the amused chuckle, the small shake of his head. Not bothered by her retort.

“You take no responsibility for his actions then? The reason we had to. He placed hits on our families' most vulnerable, like a coward!” Another boss steps in, enraged at the nerve of the woman, bursting forward onto the table and slamming his hands down in rage. I sit back and watch as the men around the table mutter their complaints at her flawed logic loudly. Getting agitated verbally and Alexi raises his palm to hush them all into immediate silence. They do as instructed, a deathly silent wave falling over us instantly which again confirms he is boss in this today.

“Is that the legacy you wish to carry on?” he asks her smoothly, taking control once more.

Marianne looks around them all and smiles like a Cheshire cat. Unfazed at their grumbles and I can see her mistake. She assumes these fat rich men have gone soft in all the years of living in a peaceful city. She thinks she can swoop in with a little intimidation and just take up a place left vacant by her father.

Why? Because she thinks Alexi is the only one to be reckoned with and she thinks she has his number. He didn’t retaliate so maybe he has gone soft. I can see it in her eyes. The far too confident brain of a stupid woman who has become power drunk on her achievements so far. She has no idea who she is fucking with or that the only thing holding him back is his family.

“I want to carry on where my father left off. I have way more capability to rule than he ever did.”

She thinks this sit-down is like a little business negotiation where she puts her demands, and all is forgiven and forgotten. She showed her muscle and her reach by targeting women that had no real value and now thinks she has earned a place in the group of New York’s most powerful. She thinks she can leave here today with a position on their board and a chunk of New York in her pocket.

As if it was that easy.

Woman thinks the crime lords have got rich, fat and lazy over the years and want to avoid bloodshed at all costs. You can tell she has never existed among the underbelly of these people or seen how disposable life is when someone gets in their way. She was raised spoiled, wealthy and entitled, and has a superiority that will be her undoing. She is no crime lord at all. Just a cocky bitch with a few hired guns and a lot of money. No match for my man and I can already see the cogs turning in his head as he sizes her up.

He is gifted at reading people in situations like this, and I can tell he is relaxing by the second with what faces him. A fly on his windscreen and easy to squish. I relax too, a little reassured this will not be the bloodfest I envisioned and lean towards him to feel his body heat through my dress, to slow my racing heart and find that much-needed security of being near him.

“So, what do you bring to the table, aside from murdering women and children?” Alexi cuts through all the bullshit of this play nice conversation and she fixes her attention on him with a sly little look.

“Oh, little Alessandro Carrero. You seem to be the main man nowadays. You know, I wasn’t surprised to hear you had grown through the ranks until you took control as head of the board. Even at thirteen, when you shot my fiancée, you showed promise as a ruthless leader. What happened to you, huh? Where is that formidable killer I heard so much about? Seems to me that was all pissing in the wind to scare off folks trying to move into this city. Was that your first and last killing, little boy?” She deflects with sarcasm, trying to show the upper hand and humiliate him. Eyes narrowed and prick side on show.

face, in fact, do it somewhere that makes her die slowly so I can take the time to stick the bird

this cow. Her attitude when she doesn’t even know him. I wriggle in my seat as volcanic temper simmers inside me and try so hard to be as still and panther-like as he is. All that perfect cool control

old lady.” Alexi, smooth and smug, sweeps in and shuts her down with a controlled tone, a putdown and a laid-back manoeuvre; he casually lounges in his chair, so he looks bored as hell with minimum effort. The man who stood in my hospital room and scared the bejesus out of me is here in all his glory, owning this scenario, manipulating it subtly. She just shrugs, trying to deliver the same level of iciness, but cannot hide the

Alexi would never sate his thirst and show a hint of weakness or fear. A dry throat definitely

obvious things have slipped since my father’s day.” She smiles bitchily, a wobble in her voice and I guess his manner is unnerving her. That icy, penetrating gaze that pierces your soul as he pulls you apart, and does so in such stealth

King when

obvious she is starting to waiver. I think she expected an easier negotiation and straight down to business, as her ballsy attitude has a shelf life. It was all a front in a bid to appear in control until the real man of the hour swept in and showed her how a boss acts. No one

first, but five seconds talking to his demon

squint at his face unsure what his message says

his own phone, and the overwhelming sense of foreboding hits me

and a strange atmosphere seems to emanate from

have to say? You’re awfully quiet, are you trying to scramble a

and she looks confused at that response. As am I. I turn to him questioningly as he sits up

much like this one,” Alexi smirks, nods in a hardly noticeable way that would look like nothing to anyone else, and suddenly everything erupts. One tilt of his chin and men leap

side of her are yanked backwards violently, by the men in suits behind that I thought were with her. Clear plastic bags pulled over their heads and zip tied around their throats in the most grotesque, frightening fashion; so fast it’s

panic, nearly swallowing my tongue as my heart rips out of my chest and I’m hit with a cold wave of

many ways. Some gasp and lurch back in their chairs, shocked, some sit steadfast, unfazed by this brutal scene, but it’s Santagato and Alexi who draw my eye as the fear and panic course through me, strangling me into frozen terror. My heart almost self-combusting, it’s hammering so fast, but I

shit

men with zero expression. The wide-eyed terror and gasping, godawful sounds as

to the table until my knuckles turn white. Labouring breaths as I try to keep my head together. It’s excruciating to watch and nothing at all like in

life and blood drains away, yet I’m rooted to the spot watching this horrific scene, knowing instinctively I

the gasping and thrashing subsides and two bodies slump forward heavily and facepalm the desk. They

I’m sat in some daymare, grasping Alexi’s leg under the table to try to keep myself calm as the woman’s

the man on her right, but try as she might to rouse him, it’s obvious he's dead. Pulling at him, pawing at the bag on his head to get it off with fumbling fingers as she realises, she's too late. It’s pathetic and traumatising and my eyes bite with tears, emotion swirling at what I

me he's still with me. I inhale heavily to calm my own shuddering limbs and pull myself

into me, shuts up the hysterical banshee across from me. She looks up, tears pouring down her sodden, blotchy face, makeup running, skin white and almost translucent with the fear of knowing this is the end for her. Her badly played plan coming back to bite her in the arse as

Santagato, who smiles like an evil psycho and turns his chair until he faces her. Revelling in this gruesome scene with an unhinged smile on his face. It’s clear it’s no surprise to him that Alexi married me, and now I know who Alexi was on the phone to

choking on them as though chewing sawdust. The heavy silence as it sinks in with everyone around

I’m fighting so hard to be gracious and poised while inside I’m terrified and on the verge of an all-out panic attack. The only thing keeping me sane is

wife. Guess your intel wasn’t all that. And yes, I know who it was, and we won’t be hearing from Lucie anymore. I took care of

that, the vision of that fat little gimp from the club spinning into my brain and I gawp at Alexi’s profile

what happened to him. Lucie is probably fish food in concrete boots as we speak, as there is no way in hell the Carreros would let that shit slide. Now I know why he was sullen when returning last night. One of their own turned on them and for him that’s

it all makes sense. The jealous little prick thought we were screwing before we ever were. He hated my position in the club over his and I can see why he would run off to sell his intel

Complete wanker.

invaded the security and paid off people in the club. How they knew the fire escape led from the office and how to

took an hour to talk. No doubt planning, dealing with their

Jesus Christ.

life. It seems only fair I deal with the woman who made an attempt on Alexi’s wife. An eye for an eye. Well within the code. A debt repaid on my terms.” Santagato breaks into my

effortlessly,

to help her. In fact, several men relinquish their guns on the table and file out of the room silently, showing their decision to walk away, knowing what will happen to them if they do not. No ounce of fight in the ones who are not her blood, and no one stops them from leaving. I guess they'd already agreed not to intervene before this went down; it would explain why I’m now seeing Carrero and Santagato men behind everyone one of them within this room. Just in case they tried. This really was a hastily planned meeting,

muster any kind of empathy for her, I cannot. She brought this on herself when she came after people they cared about. When she

tense silence as the men look from one to the other, yet no one moves to raise a hand. A murmur of low chatter as some whisper to one another,

is killing me, my insides are crumbling to dust as my heart rate elevates once more and I shit myself on so many levels. Even being beside Alexi is doing nothing to alleviate my growing fear while he's in Mafia King mode, cold and cruel and I can’t stand it. We need to get out of here before I throw up or pass out. I’ve had enough and as hard as

bone and I just can’t. I start trembling again, praying Alexi would never expect me to watch

together with every ounce of strength I

and jumps up to do a runner. Her fear overtaking and survival mode kicking in. She is blocked by men all around her, forced back into a seat brutally with no care to the fact she is female, and duct taped down for

still and concentrate on breathing. It’s a brutal reminder of what worth women have in this world. How sadistic and cruel these men are, and how

too, to shut up the god-awful squawking to bring some quiet back to this echoey space. It’s clinical, like something out of a gangster movie and I feel faint as my blood soars

as he does so, another calming measure because he can sense I’m flailing and circles the room until he gets to her side of the table. Walks up, parting the men out of his way so he has a clear path to her, and ends up by her side; leaning down so his mouth comes level with her ear, he looks right at me. That emotionless dark look