The Carrero Contract - Selling Your Soul (Mafia Romance)

Chapter 187

“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.

“I get that, and it means so much to me to know you would do this for me. Trust me, I see it. I just don’t need it, not like this. We have something better, something stronger, and I don't want you to offer yourself to me this way again. You’re my queen, I’ll never want this with you for as long as I live. If you think I will look for it somewhere else, then don't. Nothing will ever compare to what we have, and I won’t jeopardise it. I don’t need it, I never did. It’s the past and a part of me that no longer exists as long as you love me.”

And I will love him forever.

I lift my chin and wipe my face, sniffing away the traces of my emotional breakdown. Tired, feeling weak and vulnerable but understanding him fully. Understanding more than most the need to have a different persona and masks and things that maybe we didn’t like but were a necessity to the part we played.

“I totally ruined this didn’t I?” I’m turning into an emotional wreck of late, and I don’t know how the hell to get my shit together. He just seems to be able to bring out this side of me, to dig deep beneath my layers to find my most vulnerable spots. I’m not the girl I was the day he walked into my life to save me.

He has completely destroyed the cold, hard side of that persona, and now I need him to be my vicious wall of security instead.

“Nah, London. We're only having ourselves a delayed start. How about you roll over and let me 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 better.

“That sounds like an offer I don’t want to refuse.” I perk up a wide grin, trace his face with my thumb and swoon when that sizzle of electric we so easily ignite, rolls through my body and tingles my nether regions. Instant horn on command. Only he holds that special button. With fear thrown aside my body reminds me I still need a climax.

“Close your eyes and you’ll soon find out.”

I 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. All pain, paranoia and upset fluttering away under his breath-taking attention. My body tuning into his touch seamlessly.

This I can 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 him completely.

He finally moves 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. Teasing me into heightened pleasure and longing and making me wet for him all over again.

Once he gets them down far enough, he pulls one of my shoes off to ease my limb up and removes them from one leg completely, discarding them where they are and props my leg up, bending at the knee and holds it there. Opening me up for him now I’m free of fabric.

I wait with bated breath, skin tingling all over with the intense erotic pleasure of waiting for that most intimate of kisses, and I don’t have to wait long. Squirming with need and breathless with excitement.

Tongue connects between my thighs when he scoops down and pushes my legs further apart to accommodate him. He pulls my pelvis towards him and angles me up, so he gets unrestricted access, my body melting into a useless, weightless mass of liquid as I surrender to the pleasurable feeling of hot, wet tongue caressing my labia. Groaning instantly as that weakening wave consumes me.

I cry out, losing myself in the sensation of the best oral sex I have ever had in my life, moaning his name as I claw at the bed sheets and get ready for that mind-blowing orgasm that has evaded me all day.

We end up on a private flight early next morning, as the airfield last night had to cancel all flights back to Manhattan for several hours because of a helicopter pilot crashing on one of 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 a flight I have ever heard, and it put the airfield out of use overnight.

Well, I suppose it’s 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 building he was coming from; a freak accident that started a fire and ravaged the whole building. You couldn’t make this shit up. Apparently, everyone died in that blaze.

Alexi didn’t want to drive home either as he literally hates long, monotonous road trips; kills his restless nature, so we stayed another night with a booked plane flight rather than a chopper, to avoid bad juju,

soon as they started operating again. Because of it, however, we had to schedule our flight back early for us to make Alexi’s sit-down with the Mafia bosses and that queen bitch Marianne. So today I feel rushed, half asleep and still trying to let my head catch up with the last few days. I feel unusually rattled, nerves prickly because of why we are rushing back and unable to settle.

Alexi went off for an hour last night to meet his father and left me keeping our bed warm. I didn’t pry when he got back as he seemed shut off, thinking things over in a 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 before he got me up to go.

By the time we land we will have to hightail it to the venue right from the airport with only minutes to spare, so he spent half the night getting agitated with his plans going to shit. He hates to be unprepared for anything and abhors when his 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 an end to this meeting.

Yesterday, despite all that, was nice though, sitting curled up together in bed and lazily making love, talking and watching 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 of this house completely from my brain.

Cuddling up and watching old movies, which I have found he actually likes. We share so many tastes, it’s crazy. Alexi put my needs 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 ruining my happy.

He actively avoided all mention of his mother and as much as it pains me to know he is inwardly gnawing over that, I left it alone.

I could get used to this life with him. He may not be Mr Romantic, but he really is learning and things between us are steadily growing with every passing day. Alexi opening up, becoming more competent at being gentle and tender, and really blowing all my expectations out of the water with whom he can be. He makes me happier than I ever imagined I could be in life. I think this marriage thing might actually work if he keeps being this man for me. I have no more doubts about it.

I don’t care how many gangsters he shoots or tortures as long as the version that comes home to me is this one. This is the man I could spend a million years and more with and never tire of being with him. I like the fact that this is who he is for me alone; it 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 only half of a man.

“Where the fuck is he?” Lexi is agitated when we walk through and out of the airport office expecting 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 have no clue. I don’t want to ask him as my nerves have already shot up about a hundred feet after I heard him tell Mico to bring his gun and holster to the pickup.

He’s going armed, which I hate, but I don’t want to say anything and make him aware that I’m stressing about 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 can live a safe existence with him in our new life.

This is a part of the relationship I need to get used to, and I wish I didn’t panic anytime he mentioned his gun. I get so afraid for him. I don’t know what I would do something ever happened to him, and my fear of guns is, most probably, set for life.

“There.” I point out the approaching familiar four by 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 it fine for arriving on time. He seems detached, and I know his brain will be arranging, coercing details and working out his action plan. I know to leave him be.

He throws the bags in the boot as Mico opens my door and helps me 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 warm smile. Glad to see Alexi’s familiar shadow back with him and it eases some of the trepidation of this meeting. Mico will protect Alexi where I can’t. That’s why I adore him so.

“Floor it, I hate being late,” he barks at Mico as though it’s 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 be if Alexi has to play nice by order of his family.

We lurch into motion and Alexi hands me my seatbelt to clip on, checking I’m buckled in before he does his own and pulls my hand to his lap. I can already tell he's put on his Mafia mask.

“You’re coming in with me, so I need you 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 shivers down my spine. Locking those eyes on me and not a single hint that he's kidding. I swallow hard.Content © NôvelDrama.Org.

“Why do I need to be there? What’s going to happen, what is this even for?” I blurt 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 and letting his persona slide into gentleness for a moment.

“There are a few outcomes. I don’t want to give you a reason to worry when nothing is certain, so I just need you to trust me. She asked for this meeting because she thinks she can negotiate a place on the board. She wants to be the sixth reigning family in the city thinking she can take her father’s place. All this bullshit, posturing and showing what she was capable of, was her way of saying ‘look at me, I have skills and power too’.”

“What a stupid bitch. Are your family still against you putting a bullet in her fucking skull?” I ask, lifting a brow and wondering why he needs to go through all this if they have changed their view. Alexi settles back against his own seat, keeping my hand in his and frowns out the window.

“Yes. She hasn’t done anything to you since I married you, so they still won’t budge. They don’t want me to touch her. There’s a code, rules to play by and a treaty the families signed. She didn’t touch you as my wife, so technically I still cannot retaliate without real cause. If I give the order for someone else, it’s the same thing. I can’t do this and none of the others will do it without my say so. I’m fucked.” He sounds as pissed as his words make me feel, and that little twinge of muscle in his jawline is a sign he’s harbouring a bad mood.

“So, what then? She just gets to lord about and act like a fucking queen after going for me twice?” It spikes my instant temper and I throw myself back against the seat in frustration at this lack of resolve. Forgetting my own nerves.

It’s the only thing still hanging over our heads in this life and I, for one, want to see the end of. Wife title may save me from future attempts, but that bitch has tried twice, and I want to see her punished. Churning up all sorts of angsts and angry sensations in the pit of my stomach.

“Do you really think I would leave it like that? You need to trust me. Just don’t react, no matter what. I’m not sure about exactly how this will play out but be prepared for anything. There are five heads at this sit-down, she has wronged more than just us. My main priority is keeping you safe.”

I fidget with my cuff, missing my broken bracelet and wish I was wearing it right now. Alexi has it wrapped up in his case for repair when we get home and, for some reason, I feel like I need its presence for luck and protection about now. Looking out the window as we speed through traffic the best we can, I try to push it all down and distract myself with the scenery.

“I know you will find a resolution that makes you happy. I trust you.”

I really do. He’s a man who always orchestrates things the way he wants them, and I shouldn’t underestimate how good he is at it. I mean look at us; he has me, after everything, and I would never have believed that would ever happen.

“Good girl. Just stay by my side no matter what. I want you there so I can send a clear message. I need her to know that you are out of bounds no matter what happens today. If anything kicks off, stick to me like glue. Nothing will ever happen to you again, not as long as I’m with you.” His words send a tremble of fear through me, tightening my gut but I know he will do what he says and keep me safe. He told me once he would die for me and I truly believe he would throw himself in front of a bullet to stop me getting hurt. I shudder internally and curl back against him, wrapping myself around his arm possessively to draw that security I need to keep me calm.

“Don’t you dare die or get hurt or anything dramatic like that. I’ll never forgive you,” I blurt out churlishly. Heart aching with the very real threat that it could happen.

“Duly noted, London.” Lexi pats my hand and strokes my cheek tenderly before pulling out his phone and stares at the screen. It’s on silent so didn’t ring. He puts it to his ear and mumbles something in Italian that goes right over my head.

I zone out and stare at the scenery once more, hating this and working myself into an internal frenzy, so taut with nerves I feel sick. I just cling onto him and count down the streets we pass to keep myself calm. Willing this to be over, and I know as long as I keep breathing and keep my shit together, we will be leaving and heading home soon enough. I have to remind myself that this is just a blip and totally something he can handle.

He’s Alexi Carrero, maybe reformed for me but that badass psycho he can be is very much alive and kicking in that body and just waiting for the right place to come out to play. I have faith in his ability. He didn’t get that reputation by being a pussycat.

When we pull into a downtrodden area of Chinatown, in a narrow alley, I’m surprised to see what looks like a massage parlour looming over us and the familiar black cars of Carrero security lining the street in which we park. Men are milling around and jump to attention the second we pull up, obviously been awaiting our arrival and briefed on what’s required.

I recognise many faces and feel instant relief knowing his men are here, surrounding the building, and as far as I can see, dominate the body count ratio with other men I assume belong to the other families. That safe circle of his family and my tension dissolves a little. Knowing there is safety in numbers and his men are all highly skilled and efficient. I feel better knowing he has an armed escort ready to wipe out anyone who should try to touch him.

Alexi pulls me with him as he slides out the car, keeping me close, our fingers interlocked, and I notice the subtle handoff as Mico passes him a gun. Alexi slides it inside his jacket, tucking it God knows where, and I look away and count to ten under my breath to stop myself from reacting. He knows I saw but I won’t show it. I won’t let him see my stress levels skyrocketing. He squeezes my hand subtly as if to reassure me it’s merely a precaution and we will be just fine. So tuned in to me, as I am to him, nowadays. I try for a soft smile but end up just giving him a weird grimace.

As a group, surrounded by some of his men, we make our way through the small building, following Mico and are led into a bigger inner hall. A long, dark corridor scattered with everyday things like cleaning supplies, magazines and bric-a-brac that litter rickety side tables in a gloomy, badly lit building. It smells musty and damp and in no way glamorous at all.

“What is this place?” I whisper quietly for Alexi’s ears only. Afraid it’s a setup as it seems such a bizarre meeting place. I hope to God she doesn’t own this and all these seemingly innocent workers milling in shadows and doorways aren’t undercover assassins waiting to take us out. My brain's being a little bit erratic, paranoia spiking when my body is tingling like a radar alerted to a million intruders, but I mean, in this world, anything could happen.

“It belongs to Santagato. He arranged the meet in a neutral zone so she couldn’t manufacture anything.” Alexi’s hushed confident tone suggests he trusts that decision. Always one step ahead.

Okay, so he’s smarter than I am, anyway. See this is why Alexi is the boss and I should trust his instincts.