The Carrero Contract - Selling Your Soul (Mafia Romance)

Chapter 145

“I like a little danger, it’s good for the heart.” He winks this time, and that gets him a second flat handed smack of ‘not amused’ and a cushion swung at his face which he catches and yanks forward, so I’m pulled into his face with mine.

I cough on the fast intake of breath it causes and as he catches me and rights me; we come so close we are almost nose to nose and there it is again; the feeling he wants to kiss me and the weaker side of me knows she would probably let him.

“If you didn’t care then it wouldn’t be upsetting you. Seventy-five percent, give or take a few.” He winks, and that makes me lose my shit all over again and forget anything about fucking kissing. I grab another cushion to smother him, swinging it at his head, so not impressed with this. This percentage crap will get him maimed and if I find his gun, I will shoot him my fucking self. He just bats it away and smiles at me devilishly as I clamber back to my previous position.

‘Idiot.’ I snap, annoyed with him thwarting my attack. Riled by his stupidity in putting himself in danger.

“You’re worth it. Santagato won’t be a problem and I can sleep at night instead of watching you like a hawk. All is right in my little world again.”

Smug and stupid. God help me.

“You’re mentally unstable in the worst kind of way, you know that?” I spit it at him accusingly, angry that he is dense enough to risk his life for moronic things. Annoyed that I do indeed care far too much about it, and it probably won’t be the last time he makes such dumb decisions.

He makes me crazy and throws me off centre. He makes me doubt he could ever truly love someone, and then in the next breath, he’s torturing abusers and getting shot at to protect me. My head is so screwed up with all of this.

“Yep.” He shrugs again, giving no shits about it and looks annoyingly arrogant as he throws me that full charm offensive smile of his. Dimples and all, and I just eye roll at him.

“Why can’t you do the normal things, like chocolates and flowers? Hitmen, PI’s and gifting guns are not romantic, Alexi.” I sigh heavily, sinking back in a dishevelled slouch into the cushions to try and wrap my mind around this insane person next to me. A man who thinks torture and shootouts are the way to protect his love interest.

“You don’t like flowers. And you prefer cake.” He smirks at me sideways and I roll my eyes hard at him, even if it is true. He is such a knob.

“Don’t be a smart arse, it’s not appropriate timing.” I sigh at him, just so done.

“You don’t want some smoochy soppy asshole who buys you flowers and chocolates. You want someone who can handle shit, kill your monsters and make sure you’re always safe. A crazy mob boss with a steel dragon who would burn down the world for you. One who can take your sassy mouth and give as good as he gets.”

A reference to my childish fantasy of a hero riding a fire breathing beast. He really did read every word.

Alexi slides a hand in mine and pulls my fingers over into his lap to curl up with his, watching me intensely, but I don’t object. That craving for his warmth on mine has been swirling deep down and I sort of like this. Hand holding was never my thing, but his hands are large and encompassing and make me feel nice inside. Still and yet somehow gooey. An affection he doesn’t give often, or not just to anyone. He laces his fingers through mine snugly and holds me tight so I cannot even flex them.

“Thing about dragons is, they sometimes burn you by mistake, just for getting too close. They can’t help it; it’s just how they are.” So much loaded intent in my statement as I stare at the way his hand dwarfs mine. Looking so pale next to that naturally tanned Italian skin and he just smiles it away. Missing my point entirely.

“Just as well I’m not the dragon and merely its master. I would take the heat before I let anything burn you again, London. It’s my job to keep you safe.”

That godforsaken pet name, but I don’t really hate it anymore. If he cared all this time, then I guess ‘London’ was always his way of showing me affection.

How can I hate that?

It’s his version of sweetheart or darling without being soppy.

We sit and look at each other for what seems like an eternity, holding hands, weirdly intimate in the dim light from the lights in the kitchenette, illuminating us a little. Surrounded by shadows and silence in the room. My heart beating through my chest in a slow rhythmic timing to the clock on the wall in the eerie stillness now we have just stopped. I’m suddenly aware of how right this seems, and it does what it does—sends me into panic mode, heart shrivelling, head kicking me back to reality and I instantly feel clammy and hemmed in.

“I should drink my cocoa and try to sleep a little.” I pull my hand free, running anytime the air between us gets emotionally charged, losing my courage, and he sighs softly. Nodding in defeat and recognising that I’m withdrawing from him again. Just too much fear to just let go.

I get up and walk quickly to where I left what will now be a lukewarm drink, but it doesn’t matter. I’ll drink it anyway just to not stay and do this anymore. I need to stay guarded and in control, or else I will be sucked right back in without really figuring out if it’s what I want.

He’s too potent.

“Want to share my bed?” He calls after me and I pause, shocked to a standstill and turn to glance at him over my shoulder hesitantly. Not sure he actually said that to me.

“What?”

I think I’m hearing things. Surely Alexi did not just ask me to spend the night with him. I mean, even before, he wasn’t one for bed sharing. He was more of a fuck and run and leave you to wake up alone. He doesn’t snuggle.

“We already had sex, so what harm would it do to sleep beside me? I want to wake up beside you for the first time. I promise not to take off before you wake up this time.” It’s the tiny little hint of uncertainty in the normally confident tone that makes me hesitate. It’s not expected, he’s genuinely asking with hope. Asking for something completely abnormal for him.

My face must visibly drop, insides lurching and breathing gets laboured at his suggestion as his smile fades and he looks instantly apologetic.

“I know, I know. I’m pushing and not giving you space. This is harder than I thought it would be. I just want … you.” Alexi looks defeated, back to that boyish weirdness I’m nowhere near being used to, and I shake my head at him. Instantly feeling all kinds of horrible and guilty, even though I have done nothing wrong.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea. Not yet anyway. I just want to get my cocoa and sleep in there.” I nod towards my room, reassuring myself that it is for the best. He runs a hand through his short hair, clearly stressed with how this is going, or maybe it’s just his inability to be patient with me. I really shouldn’t be surprised, it’s one area he has serious issues with on any day of the week. He has none and his impulse control is non-existent at the best of times too.

“I’m still here. That says something.” I point out with a shy smile, trying to make that enough for him for now. I can’t handle anything beyond that for the time being. Alexi nods, a little sombrely, but it’s better than a guilt trip, and I quickly scoop up my mug and make a run for it before this conversation goes around in circles.

Make an escape before my own niggles and conscience have me heading for the wrong bedroom.

I finally managed a little sleep after obsessing crazily and turning my head inside out for a few hours. Torn about the choice in front of me I never imagined I would ever have.

Alexi loves me. This belongs to NôvelDrama.Org: ©.

Alexi is offering me something real.

I think the world has ended and hell has frozen over because I cannot seem to digest this at all.

I never in a million years would have imagined him of all people, offering me something that only a few months ago I had longed for from him. I had been mush at his feet and would have done anything for a chance at claiming his heart, and now here I stand with exactly that, and it’s like it’s not even real. Detached from any sense of reality and floating like a numb blob of confusion in my head.

My initial reaction to his confession of love was anger because of everything that has gone on between us before, and now … I don’t know anymore. The levels of mistrust and the huge wall of trepidation that this man has done so much damage so effortlessly to me is holding me back. My heart is divided.

I still love him, but I don’t know if I want to be loved by him. Walking that path may just be a repeat of the past and a whole lot of misery and pain for me, or it might not be. The Alexi of the past few weeks, the past few hours, is a complete change to the one who inflicted so much cruelty before. I don’t know what’s real and what is a manipulation to manoeuvre me into his arms.

He really seems like he is trying to reform his ways for me and gain trust, or it could be a world class act fuelled by the information, he has on me now, for his own evil ends.

I don’t know if he truly is trying to get me to forgive him.

Can I? I just don’t know. The heart is a funny thing and when you burn it so deeply that it gives up on living it’s very hard to convince it to beat again.

I never thought it would the first time, and how does that old saying go—once bitten, twice shy. I think in my case it’s not just shy but recoiling into the depths of solitude so no one can ever find it again. I’m terrified of feeling that profound agony at his hands and will do anything to avoid letting anyone hurt me so cruelly again.

I need a break from my own thoughts because I’m driving myself insane and churning my emotions into a messy ball of yuck. There is no other word for the chaotic tangle I find myself in and I need to stop turning this over in my mind. I just need a normal day, with mundane tasks downstairs and no thoughts beyond that. That would be heaven for a little while.

I get up, shower and eat breakfast, or lunch should I say as it’s afternoon when I surface, all alone. Alexi is nowhere in sight, but the evidence of his being here is. The coffee mug on the drainer and the coffee scent in the air from the machine, which is now sparkling clean and empty. The cleaner has obviously been up here as it’s all neat and perfect and hides all evidence of a restless and possibly life- altering night.

It’s as though nothing has happened, and my world isn’t completely jumbled up into an unsure future. No sign of emotional fall out and devastating tears from confessions.

So much rests on whatever decision I make. Life will never be the same no matter which path I choose to follow.

With him, I may either be blissfully content for the rest of my days or end up with a second attempt at a bullet to the head. Without him, I may still have a future in this club although I don’t really see how as he would never stay away indefinitely, it’s not him to do so, or I might end up back on the streets and the worst kind of existence. Everything is so unsure.

The laundry basket, no doubt, contains my underwear I so carelessly discarded, and my shoes and bag are sat neatly on the coffee table for me. My bracelet sits shining like a pretty little beacon and I hesitate before picking it up. I threw it here so callously, to sever all ties to him, and now it holds more meaning than before. The thought behind the buying it.

I put it back on after a moment of pause and turn it so I can stroke the charms and push the reason for his choice out of my head. I still have a severe connection to this piece of jewellery, maybe more so now.

I meant what I said to him last night; the past is the past and we shall never talk of those journals, my life back then, or Rick again—it’s done. It’s like nothing is amiss and nothing altered the world at all on the surface, and that’s how I want it for today.

Except everything is different today and I can’t stop churning it over and over in my mind with both elation and trepidation. My entire future is at a crossroads that could upend it all.

Alexi told me he loves me. He wants me.

I never knew those three little words could fill me with such all-consuming terror.

I wish it could have been like in the movies when the hero finally admits his love to the wronged girl, and she falls into his arms and they kiss all the pain away, and we all know it’s an inevitable happy ever after.

That’s how it’s meant to go, right?

Not this weird wave of apprehension and fear and running away because the man has already shown you, he has the power to crush you to nothing. And the cold heart to follow through. I never knew love could be such a huge, terrifying step.

I can’t look through it all and see hope for a different ending. I trust nothing about him, and my sanity is stopping me from blindly throwing myself in the deep end once more. I’m not as naïve this time around and so madly in love with him that I will let myself be mauled by wolves at his hands, just to be close to him. This time I know I need to protect myself, and he needs to show me that I can trust him with my vulnerable soul before he gets even an inch closer to it.

I don’t know how the hell he will pull that off.

Maybe he’s right and a date, or just spending time together, might help unravel my crazy thoughts and let me observe him a little more closely. Study him and try to gauge what’s true and what’s not.

If I can just stop that impulsive desire to run away from him any time he touches me or gets too close; my heart hammering through my chest painfully, and an inability to breathe when he is beside me. I’m pretty sure that is not the desired response when beside a man who wants to build a relationship with you.

Do I believe him?

Part of me does, part of me doesn’t. He has almost done a three-sixty turn around since I left, and there is still a huge part of me that doesn’t understand how someone can change so drastically towards a person, even though I know he had my journals. Even though he had a lot of time thinking things through and learning a lot about me I wish he didn’t know.

Unless it’s all just a clever part of a bigger game and it’s all lies.

Then there is the Rick confession, and well, I did not see that coming at all, and to be honest, I don’t think I had the brain capacity to take it in when he told me. I was at saturated levels of emotion and it was one more block to a pile of scattered bricks that I couldn’t put together. Today, however, I’m pulling that little titbit out of my head and I’m really examining what he said.

He didn’t just track down the man who abused me and screwed me up for all eternity; he didn’t just find him and put a bullet in his head and end his reign of terror on young girls across Hackney. He said he made him suffer.

I don’t know if I want to know exactly what he means by that, but knowing how sadistic Alexi can be, I don’t doubt it was bad.

These are the parts of him I need to know more about if I have a chance of anything. How can I trust a man who has so many levels of both good and evil when I don’t know the half of it? Where one stops and one starts, where it all ends. Where his boundaries lie in terms of what he can do to me if things fall apart.

I need to know how far it goes, where his cut-off point is, and what to expect of his worst side if I am ever to feel any sort of trust or safety with him. I need to know if he feels any kind of pleasure or guilt from those kinds of acts and if he would turn on me again if I anger him.

I need to know if Alexi really is a psychopath. If he can feel genuine remorse for things he does. Or if it is all an act to appear human.

I think that’s a very important fact to know about a man. And what a relationship to him would entail. I mean, I know he can be a controlling bastard and overwhelmingly aggressive and hostile. He dishes out punishments and biting, wounding words without a thought. I know nothing about the psyche or behaviours of such people or what is normal for them. I may have to google ‘how do I know if my lover is a psychopath?’ to get some sort of clue on this.

A guide to living with a serial killer for dummies.

It’s so not funny.

Would I be willingly delivering myself to someone who would entrap me with love and then torture my sanity right back out of me all over again, or would owning his heart make a difference?

Can crazy killers feel deep love?

There is so much uncertainty with a man like Alexi. He isn’t a straight-up simple male. He has about a million layers of complexity and a lot of dark hidey holes in that soul of his. I need to see what it is I’m getting myself into if I take a leap of faith. I’m no match for him. The first round between us taught me that.

If he isn’t some emotionless loopy fruit cake with a penchant towards snubbing out life, then what the hell is he? A mob boss bound by responsibility and numbed by the things he has had to do over the years? Like a trained soldier who kills to protect and hides the effect it has on him?

I see no remorse or tortured soul in those empty eyes of his, so I doubt he experiences guilt.

Jesus Christ Camilla … what the fuck have you got yourself into?

I had to go and fall in love with New York’s most dangerous man, and now he’s trying to bind us together for eternity. I really need to figure this shit out and learn who he really is all over again.

The Alexi I thought I knew, was only a tiny part of a bigger picture.

I need to be smart about this.

This decision will alter the rest of my life. I don’t doubt that if I give him a chance and see if this can work, then my life will be short-lived if it falls apart. I know too much, and I would be a liability. He couldn’t just let me go all over again if we fail. He would have to kill me. That’s the norm for his world when women try to walk away.

That puts a new slant on my decision and adds about ten times the weight.