The Carrero Contract - Selling Your Soul (Mafia Romance)

Chapter 147

I throw my third sexy dress on the bed and slump down in a deflated heap, annoyed with myself that I’m doing exactly what I said I wouldn’t do. Prettying myself up for him and stressing over how to dress and what to wear like some sad little teenage idiot on a first date. I can’t believe myself sometimes.

He texted me and told me to be ready for six and to dress casually. Whatever that means. Ironic really, as that was my original plan; to show a lack of effort and now, here I am with a bed full of dresses and he is the one telling me to dress down.

I don’t know if he means casual pretty for somewhere like his Italian restaurant or if he means jeans and sweater casual. I’m not asking him because then he will think I’m keen for tonight and I’m definitely not. This is my first stage of observing and analysing him. Spend time, suss him out and look for all the little acts and niggles that cement whether this is genuine.

I need to be sure I’m not being played, once and for all. Tonight will tell me that, and then maybe if I can suss it out, it will make the decision a whole lot easier.

That’s about as far as I have got with my plans, anyway. Play along, be nice, rile him occasionally, and try to figure him out. Shouldn’t be too hard to tell if it’s fake with some well-placed button pushes to see if his mean side is sleeping or just hiding from me. Alexi can act demure and charming all he wants, but the proof of the pudding and all that is when I make him lose his temper with me. It’s easy to poke that bear—disobedience or just flout the ownership buttons and boom. We have ourselves an Alexi meltdown and immediate sadistic appearance with that temper he struggles to control.

A necessary evil to see how different he really can be. If I have to endure being punished to see him for what he really is then at least I’ll know what my future would be like. I can run and never look back, with no doubt that I was saving myself from a lot of heartache.

I pull on another figure-hugging dress and glance at my clock, cursing myself that it’s almost six and he will show up at any minute. Picking a long jumper dress over skinny jeans, to look like I made zero

effort, I re-brush my hair back into its sleek ponytail and turn it into a messy bun. I’m going for the ‘I just threw this on and forgot we had plans’ kind of look, finished with a scarf and flats.

Not my normal ensemble on any given day, but this is not any normal day. And I won’t admit I have been fussing with my appearance for almost two hours, driving myself insane with nerves and indecision.

I touch up my neutral makeup and apply a lip gloss rather than my trademark red lip and scrutinise myself a little too closely. Obsessing, and I know I’m doing it because my nerves are on high alert and I feel ridiculously uncertain.

I look young, pretty girl, almost college student. Not sure I like the look but it’s definitely not screaming seduction of any sort, and I think at the back of my mind, that’s what I was aiming for in reality. I don’t look like I normally do and part of me wants to see if it makes a difference to him. Does a non-sexy and slutty Camilla still make him want to nail me?

Sex is a NO. It’s the one area where I’m not willing to leave myself vulnerable again. Yesterday was stupid and if he truly wants something between us, he will accept I’m taking it off the table, effective immediately. No end date in sight for the time being either. I can make do with BOB should I get horny, and well, I already know he hits the spot every time. You can’t beat a battery-operated boyfriend in times of need.

I walk out of my room, adjusting my jumper as he comes strolling in, right on time, looking unusually happy and bright and smiling my way. Alexi has gone full-on casual and I’m bitterly disappointed that he won’t blink twice at my attire. He’s in grey washed jeans and a tight blue T-shirt under a black leather jacket and a pair of leather boots. Completely casual and now I’m the one annoyed he didn’t make more effort. He doesn’t even look like he shaved and is sporting stubble on that normally clean- shaven face.

I have hit an alternate dimension. This content © Nôv/elDr(a)m/a.Org.

It’s more Gino’s style than Alexi’s. If it wasn’t for that dragon tattoo peeking out at his collar and those grey husky eyes looking my way, I would swear the wrong twin was up here.

“You look cute.” He smiles at me as he bypasses and goes straight into his room without any appraisal. I swear it’s three words no woman ever wants to hear from the mouth of the man she’s dating.

What the fuck is cute when it comes to men?

Puppies are cute! Kid sisters are CUTE!

Women you want to bang senseless are never CUTE!

What the hell is with me? I seem to have more moods than a psycho with PMS and need to get a grip. I dressed down to annoy him, then get pissed because he did too, and now I’m getting hormonal and sulky because he called me cute. I swear I need a Xanax or something to level my emotions out.

If this is what a love confession from Alexi does to you, then maybe I should feign a headache and go to bed. I can feel disaster brewing with how weird I’m being and should really admit defeat before tonight ends in tears.

I thought him being ‘off’ would be my biggest hurdle, but it looks like this is all on me.

He reappears carrying a set of keys in one hand and a messenger bag in the other and I look him up and down quizzically. Student chic seems to be catching and I’m not sure I like it on him.

“You’ll need a warm jacket; we’re taking my bike.” He pulls his bag over his head, still not making any real attempt at checking me out and zips up his jacket while nodding towards my room, and I stare at him.

“Your what?” My jaw drops open and my insides instantly flutter and die. Fear clearly evident on my face with widening eyes and a startled expression. I hope to God he doesn’t mean one we pedal, not that either option is better than the other. A petrol guzzling version has never been on my list of things to experience in my life. I have sanity.

“My bike … motorbike. I have a very nice one and it’s handy for small streets and casual dates.” He grins and throws me that irritating wink before turning me and giving me a gentle shove to my room, dismissing the look of horror on my face and being a little pushy in the process.

“Oh, and maybe take your hair down, the helmet will only fuck it up and make it uncomfortable to wear.”

“Helmet?” I squeak and instantly feel faint. A cold wash of weakness overcoming me.

“Well, you could go without, but brain smear on the sidewalk isn’t a good look if we crash.” The tone of his voice is way too serious and I flash back an alarmed gasp his way. Eyes wide with terror and my heart stops beating.

“Oh, my God! CRASH?” I swear he is trying to terrify me, and I’m frozen to the spot, gawping like a fool, skin turning cold with lack of blood that just pulls an evil laugh out of him. Mr Sadistic is still in there.

“Jesus Christ, do you seriously have zero faith in me? I wouldn’t take my bike if I thought I would end up killing you, Cam. Now move.” He shoves me again and this time I trip over my doorway and half jog inside to grab whatever coat seems to have the most padding. Clumsy but distracted and thinking only of skidding along the road to certain death and leaving the imprint of my face on the concrete. I try to shake that visual out of my head, but my hands are already clammy and my heart bursting out of my ribcage. I’m not sure I want to get on a motorcycle. I’ve never sat on one in my life and didn’t even know he owned one, let alone rode them.

It just seems like a stupid thing to do on purpose, and I cannot understand what would possess anyone to want to do it.

“You are like … an accomplished biker, right?” I stammer as I come back out, sounding like a total wimp, voice trembling lightly, pulling on my own leather jacket that’s a lot longer than his. Praying it covers all vital organs and saves me from certain death should I meet tarmac up close. I feel sick with churning nerves and already picking at my zipper nervously.

“Very.” He ignores the obvious fear in my voice, catches me by the hand firmly and pulls me with him. Not waiting to check if hand holding is something we are doing and yanking me like a disobedient younger sibling who won’t do as they are told. Seems he thinks it is as he laces his fingers through mine securely so I can’t escape him, and I’m pulled with him at a brisk pace that gets a glare thrown at the back of his head.

“Wait. I don’t have my bag or my phone. I don’t have keys or money or anything.” I stop, getting my arm tugged with my rapid pause and he yanks me a little more firmly with him, so I yelp and almost fall over. I frown at him angrily. Alexi doesn’t even seem to notice my hateful glare, and he isn’t exactly being chivalrous in the first minutes of what is meant to be a romantic date.

Arsehole.

“You don’t need anything, just you.” I get a warm smile thrown back at me and I’m once again hauled behind him, rather aggressively for a guy attempting charm and adoration. I try to wriggle my hand free, but he holds on tighter and flashes me that look of his that says, ‘keep trying, I’m not letting go’. Hints of that controlling prick lurking under the friendly persona, and I narrow my eyes and put one black cross on my mental list for tonight. He earns a few of those on this ‘date’ and he will see the last of me.

Wanker.

I can strike ‘gentle’ off the list too then. Seems that part is not long lasting. Being manhandled like a piece of meat is not my idea of romantic wooing. He has a lot to learn about schmoozing me into a better mood after this.

I get pulled at a brisk pace to the lift, where I’m silenced with a chaste kiss thrown on my lips when he turns me beside him. Right before he punches in the ground floor button. It’s so rapid I cannot object nor take part; a grazing of lips much like the one in the kitchen last night, and he gets a pointed look so frosty I could freeze the air in here.

“You know kissing me isn’t really the done thing when we aren’t actually a thing.” I point out blandly. Another black cross on my mental list of first date misdemeanours.

“Well, yesterday I had my dick inside you, so I’m guessing it’s not really a step too far to do it.” I get that cheeky arrogant smirk and I slap him in the shoulder impulsively.

“Alexi! That’s crude and not very gentlemanly. You’re a prick and not doing a great job of making me want to date you.” I huff and get even more annoyed when that smirk turns into a wider grin, amused at me. He rests his shoulder against the back wall casually and shrugs.

“Look, I’m expecting sex to be a no-go, considering you were like a speed runner right after. At least give me kissing, within reason. As for wanting to date me … looks like you’re here and coming with me, so I have no worries on that front.”

Arghh, PRICK!

“When did this become a negotiation? We had a no touching rule, remember? And it’s hard not to go out with you when you are dragging me along like a stroppy toddler.” I point out harshly.

“Once again … my dick, inside you yesterday. I think that pretty much neutralises that arrangement.” He shrugs again, in a manly, smug manoeuvre, and I wonder why I tolerate this man; he truly is a shit.

“Is this your idea of wooing me? Not very romantic are you!”

“Are we having this same conversation again? I can do flowers and chocolates and sickeningly sweet terms of endearment if you like, but then I won’t exactly be making myself transparent and as honest as I can for you. It would be fake, and I thought the idea was to gain your trust by letting you in. No more masks. No acts, no games. The real us.”

He finally trails his eyes up and down my outfit although no visible facial expressions to tell if he still thinks I’m fuckable like this. Not that I care—much.

“I feel like I’m in a dream and it’s slowly turning into one of those uncomfortable daymares.” I point out sarcastically and get an eye to the ceiling in a ‘save me already’ gesture as we travel downstairs. Alexi sighs heavily and throws me a pensive glance.

“Fine. Flowers, chocolates, calling you Hunny Bunny or some other vomit inducing term. Just don’t complain when I have to beat people to level myself out a little. I can’t do nice without balancing it with something violent.” He sounds deadly serious. I actually believe him.

“Yep, I’m in an alternate reality. One where Alexi Carrero says Hunny Bunny in a conversation, without breaking a sweat.” I smile at that, really seeing the funny in those words coming out of that mouth. Who knew that was a term he had in his verbal brain bank.

“I think I just died a little inside.” He frowns, utterly deadpan, and it breaks me unexpectedly. It pulls a genuine hearty giggle out of me, and I realise our weird conversation has completely lightened my mood with how utterly ridiculous it is. I never thought this would be a topic I would ever have with him or that he could be this funny, and I’m not sure if he meant to be. He has my sense of humour; dry and sarcastic with a completely serious tone. I think I just fell in love with him all over again. Definitely a side to him I may have previously overlooked.

“I’m putting my foot down on you calling me anything other than Sir.” That cheeky sideways glance and I open my mouth in outrage, immediately over the slight adoration I was teetering on.

“Fuck off. Sir, my arse. I would call you dickhead before I crawl at your feet and refer to you as my master.” I cross my arms moodily over my bust, finally losing his hand in mine and it only seems to propel him to the next level.

Alexi yanks me to him bodily by my upper arm and plants a kiss on me that stops everything.

A full-on lip to lip meeting with passion and perfection and he kisses me properly for the first time since he uttered those three words. Pressing me back against the wall so I’m utterly powerless to him and my legs give way. His body hard against mine and all I can do is surrender and struggle to stay in control as everything swirls deliciously. He kisses me dizzy and leaves me breathless.

Like a weak fool, my lips part and I allow him to not only kiss me into oblivion, but I kiss him back. Tongues warmly sliding together, lips moulded as we find our rhythm. Churning my knickers into a wet mess. He knows how to ignite the horn factor for sure.

It’s on the hotter side of tender, and as he pushes me back into the corner of the lift, so I’m bodily trapped rather than propped up, my hands find their own way up the front of his jacket and slide around his strong neck. Savouring the feel of that hard, hot body that moulds to my curves in all the right ways. His knee slides between both of mine and he pushes himself against me in a very sexual way that leaves no room for misunderstanding. His thigh wedged high between mine has the desired effect and hits me to the upper level of desperate for sex in a millisecond.

I have always hated that as a kisser he’s a bloody demon, gets inside of every part of you while making love to your mouth and completely overwhelms you so you cannot do anything except obey.

Alexi kisses me until the sound of someone clearing their throat loudly attracts his attention and he stops to look back over his shoulder, grinning wickedly, like the cat who got the cream. He knew what

he was doing, and he is high fiving himself mentally that he got me how he wanted and submissive on every level. He doesn’t need me to call him Sir, he just reduced me to mush and completely overpowered me voluntarily. Always the fucking manipulator who has to show he can.

I curse him under my breath.

I can only assume we are on the ground floor and in full view of whoever was standing at the lift doors.

He lets me go, captures my hand as his prisoner once more and pulls me with him, even though my unsteady legs almost give out as soon as I’m released. We pass two security, dressed all in formal black, and a very amused looking Jackson who beams at me widely and suddenly seems overcome with merriment.

“Have a nice evening you two. You look lovely, Miss Camilla.” He calls as we pass and slaps Alexi on the back in a laddish camaraderie way that just screams ‘good luck getting laid tonight bro’.

My face instantly heats, no doubt blushing from my roots to my toes. I avoid eye contact as I’m led out past them and straight out the rear door like a silent puppy dog on a leash.

I’m not doing a very good job of holding my own against King Carrero. Knowing they all saw that feels weird because it wasn’t a game of seduction for me, but something meaningful, and somehow, I didn’t like being watched or exposed and vulnerable that way. Being devoured wholly seems like something people shouldn’t see.

It’s already dark out, even though it’s just after six and the air is crisp and biting cold, another hint of an impending snow spell. I follow him carefully down the stairs, hints of the first frost making them slippery and he keeps a firm hold of my hand as he guides the way. He waits every couple of steps to help me down and his attention to making sure I don’t fall soothes a little of my irritation. He can be sweet in unexpected ways sometimes. Logical, practical ways rather than thoughtful romantic ones. If you

summarise all he is and put them together, then his nicer traits balance out the dickhead ones occasionally. He can be a gentleman when you least expect it and he does take care of the people he loves. His men want for nothing.

My breath catches in my throat, instant panic when standing in the centre of the car park I see he wasn’t lying at all. A huge black beast of a motorcycle is perched on a kickstand and shining in the light of the car park’s lamps. It’s almost sparkling with how glossy all the black paintwork and shiny chrome is. Two helmets perched on the long seat. An intimidating beast of a machine that screams of power and speed and the last of my blood drains to my feet as cold fear grips me. Nausea swirls back to the front of my stomach and I tremble internally.

“I’m not sure about this.” I blurt out impulsively, digging my heels in and not wanting to go any further, terror strangling me.

“Trust me. I won’t let anything happen to you and I will drive very carefully and slowly. I swear.” Alexi doesn’t miss a beat, yanks me with him and I yelp when I’m tugged along harshly, almost sliding on the tarmac, but he rights me by grabbing my arm and steadies me.

“Stop doing that!” I bark and slap his hand around mine. It’s really annoying me the way he keeps dragging me around. It feels like he is being a pushy tit and not giving a shit how infuriating it is.

“And the kissing thing needs to … you know … stop!” I add in afterthought, stomach churning as the words come out, but I need to keep my wits about me and kissing him destroys that. I’m pretty sure he knows it too, and it’s why he is so insistent on trying.

“Come on, Cam. You weren’t exactly hating it back there.” He tries for a smile and a pull towards him, but I put my hand up to stop what I suspect is another swoop in to silence me with a snog. I’m onto his little powers of persuasion. It’s not new to me and if he thinks it’s a tool to keep me pliable, he can fuck off.

“This is what you do. You manipulate me, coerce me, kiss me into submission and not let me be my own person and work in my own time. Stop trying to push me to march to your tune. I won’t ever trust you if you keep doing this and it’s not helping your cause at all.” I snap at him and shove my palm against his chest to push his face back; keeping him at bay despite his superior strength.

Alexi’s expression sobers, he looks uneasy almost instantly, runs a hand across the back of his neck and looks out over the car park away from me. His grip on me loosens and the space between us widens.

“Old habits die hard.” He mutters to himself or maybe me, and brings that set of greys back to mine, looking a little sombre and deflated.

“It’s hard to not want to kiss you, it’s not that I’m trying to mani …”

“Yes, you are. You want me to get in line and do what you want me to do. I’m not stupid. I know what you’re doing. I know you better than you think. You can’t force me to fall in love with you, Alexi.” I point out and he has the grace to just frown at me.

“I’m used to things going my way. Getting what I want … I’m sorry. I’ll back off.” He moves back a little bit and the look on his face barely conceals a hint of boyish hurt.

“I need to feel like I have control and I’m not being cornered or pushed. If I feel that way, I’ll run. It’s bred into me. You said you wanted to give me time, so do that. I need to feel safe with you before I can relax and learn to trust you. Just ease up, stop making me defensive.” I make it clear, hoping he gets the point loudly and I sigh a little when he dismisses me with a frown and pulls the smaller of the two helmets off the seat instead. Avoiding an answer but I can tell by the change in his cocky manner that something filtered through. There’s an immediate calming of his energy.

“Need me to put it on you?” His voice and tone are softer, and he holds it out rather than sweeping in to force it on my head. I think he realises he is being way too dominant, and it’s only hurting his chances

of a nice evening.

“Why can’t we take your car?” I’m desperate to avoid getting on this death machine and I don’t get why he wants to use this. It’s not impressing me at all. I was never one of those girls who liked to have terrifying speed contraptions between her thighs. Well, unless it’s six inches and takes batteries.

“I’m taking you somewhere that doesn’t have car access, it’s too narrow and hellish to find parking. I can get this baby right to the door and park it on the path.” He ignores my hesitation and puts the helmet on my head, over the hair I never pulled down and yanks it on with a tug. He was right about my bun hurting but I’m not about to admit it. I grit my teeth and ignore the knotted bruising pain in my skull where the helmet is pressing on it.

“Where exactly is that?” I ask after letting him get it over my face. Alexi has my visor up and leans down to mess with a buckle and strap under my chin, fastening it and sliding it tight. It’s hard when he is this close and focusing below my vision not to stare at that flawless face or watch those mystical eyes so intent on what he is doing. I cannot deny that Alexi is gorgeous, even when I hated him, even when I’m afraid of him. He’s annoyingly handsome in the godly way you find in movie stars and romance heroes. I guess like Vampires and Demons they use their physical appearance to fool you into following them. It’s their sparkle to lure you in.

“It’s a surprise. You’ll find out when you get there.” He comes back up from staring under my chain with that look of self-assured master of his kingdom and I severely regret letting him take me out at all. Alexi is unpredictable, and for all I know, he could drag me somewhere insane where I’m highly underdressed. I have no clue what his idea of a date is. It could be a dungeon full of chains and whips and I might never see daylight again.

“I don’t like surprises. I hate not knowing what’s coming.” That’s kind of normal for a life spent running and hiding and looking over your shoulder. I need to feel in control of all my eggs and baskets to feel

safe. Worst date ever—to let a man who once destroyed you choose the venue, make all the rules and keep you in the dark about all the details. I’m an idiot.

“Explaining would take longer than just getting there and seeing for yourself. I hope you’re in the mood for Chinese.”

“Chine …” I don’t get chance to argue or say no because he slides my visor down over my face and thumps the helmet on top of my head to make sure it’s on right and almost knocks me senseless with his heavy-handed thud. I gag on an ‘ouch’ because of the stupid hair bulge on top on my head and try not to show him that was bloody sore.

I hate the fact he avoids argument or questioning his plans by being his boorish self and shutting me up. No gentleman in that body of his at all. I know that smack on the head was deflection and I glare at him through my tinted glass with a furrowed brow and diva pout.

My voice is muffled inside my enclosed space and my heavy breathing mists up my visor instantly, making me panic instantly. Claustrophobia and fear, and now I’m locked in here I can feel the hysteria rising.