The Carrero Contract - Selling Your Soul (Mafia Romance)

The car park is less stuffy and a welcome break from the club indoors. Even with all its sexy lighting and modern exterior, it is still
a huge black box that has little to no natural daylight inside and the way it is secured means it doesn’t ever have open windows
for fresh air. It relies heavily on electrical lighting and air-con to keep the flow and temperature.
It doesn’t compare to coming outside to just breathe and feel some real sun on your limbs. Something I did a lot of when working
in the diner, inhaling fried grease all day long.
I perch my butt on a low brick wall that juts out along in front of one the new metal fences. It used to be the old territory marker
for where to park, but is pointless since he turned this into a hemmed in paddock and acts as a makeshift bench of sorts.
Leaning my head back against the fence I slide my shoes off and stretch out my naked legs to warm in the sun for a while. My
dress is knee length and rides up a little as I sit, so it’s glorious.
Closing my eyes and letting the tightness seep out of my body as heat beats down on me, I jump when a tiny little mewl noise
startles me from my right.
I flinch a second time, heart jumping, when I notice a little ginger, scruffy furball curled aggressively behind the tyre of the nearest
car, glaring at me fiercely. Eyes almost illuminated from his shadowy vantage point and intensely honed in on me. When I lean
down to look more closely it growls at me angrily in a long, evil and forbidding noise that sends my nerves rattling, and I recoil
apprehensively. He’s a little demonic and wild for my liking.
‘Calm yourself, psycho. I wasn’t planning on touching you.’ I move further along the wall, shifting on my butt to put distance
between us and turn away from the scabby little stray. Picking up my shoes carefully and sliding them back on my feet while
keeping an eye on it, in case it’s in attack mode for breaching its territory. It makes me nervous with that beady gaze stuck on me
relentlessly.
Stray cats are common in New York, especially down the back alleys and where the large dumpsters sit. This one looks like he
has been through the wars and is a little worse for wear, hiding in the shadows of one of the four-by-fours. Even from here I can
tell it’s scrawny and filthy.
I get up and walk to the back steps of the club and attempt to sit there instead, on the low wall at the base of them. Not really in
the mood for taking on a crazy cat, and jump when it appears to my left, crawling out of its little shelter to stare at me from under
the bonnet of the car. Slinking after me as though it’s trying to intimidate me out of its parking lot. He doesn’t seem as ferocious
in the light and looks more flea-bitten and pitiful than anything.

‘What do you want? Stop eyeballing me. I don’t have anything for you.’ I turn my back on him to get it to go away and head up
the steps to the doors to put a little more space between us. I slide down to perch on the top one and lean back against the solid
security door as a backrest to watch the little demon sidekick as he snarls at me from his position.
He’s scruffy, skinny and not the most attractive of kitties. Looks like a tom judging by the missing eye and half an ear ... probably
not had a decent meal for a long time. He is all loose skin and obvious bones, and the funny angle of his tail midway suggests it
was broken long ago and has healed crooked.
Despite his little aggressive nature, something in me feels kind of sorry for him, and in this heat, he’s probably desperate for a
drink. I wonder how long he has been living out here as it’s the first time I have noticed him.
I yelp in alarm, head torn from thoughts of the cat when I catapult backwards as my backrest caves in with someone opening the
door behind me. I land flat on my back with an ungraceful thud, my head in the gloomy hall of the club, facing up at the smug
looking prick that just opened it.
Alexi stands over me looking down, obviously amused with this little manoeuvre and fully aware of what he was doing with a
smart-arse smile on that clean-cut face.
There’s a camera pointing down on the step and a screen inside this door showing this exact angle, so he saw me sitting here
before he yanked it open at speed, purposely.
‘You’re a wanker.’ I glare up at him from my lying down position and he just grins a little harder, still towering over me casually, as
though he could do it all day. I continue to lie here , acting like I am quite comfortable and in no way bruised or pissed at him for
being a tosser.
‘Stop lying down on the job, wench.’ He chuckles at his own joke. I just throw him a grim look and bite down the urge to punch
him in the balls. Alexi laughing is a rare occurrence, although it is having only a negative effect on me seeing as I’m now lying on
a dirty floor in an expensive dress, thanks to him.
‘This isn’t funny; I think you’re a prick.’
‘It’s funny from up here,’ He smirks, still beaming in merriment and gets the bird thrown right at him from my horizontal position
... my temper simmering at his antics.
Alexi leans in extending a hand to help me up, but I just slap it away, glaring furiously because now my bloody dress is probably
dusty and mucky right up my back, and I have to get up ungracefully while this arsehole watches me. I am in stubborn and

Princess mode, and I would rather struggle than accept help from him.
I roll awkwardly in my very tight dress, and spend a few minutes getting up while he leans with one hand on the door, keeping it
open and still grinning at me like this is the funniest moment in history. Amused that my tight attire makes getting up like some
sort of acrobatic act.
‘You really are having trouble with the no touching thing, aren’t you?’ I snap at him in response, riled and irritated and turn to walk
back outside as I dust myself down, not really in the mood for my quiet sun time anymore, but as he’s blocking the hall, I’m not
pushing past him either. The frame of mind he is in, he would probably do something equally childish to me for shits and giggles.
‘About that ...’ Alexi seems to brush off the fun, turning serious, his expression straightening out and follows me outside as I
sigh. I can feel a foreboding wave of heaviness that whatever he’s going to say is about to dent my mood for the rest of the day.
‘Can we just discuss the terms of that little rule?’ He turns on me when I get to the top step and move to let him pass. He makes
it clear walking away is pointless. His smile gone but still has that air of good mood and amusement, and it makes me instantly
suspicious. He rarely does obvious moods, even good ones, and I have no idea at all why he’s in such a great one today. He has
been like this since he first appeared.
Especially after seeing how shittily his club has been running for months. I just cannot get over how little that seems to mean to
him at all.
‘No.’ I shake my head at him and try to dodge him, but he blocks me bodily and I have no choice but to stand my ground, his
back to the steps, so I cannot get by.
‘Sometimes touching is unavoidable and I just think it should be more specific ... like I can’t fuck you—unless you want me to
that is.’ He adds that with a cheeky smirk and I swear he’s been drinking or something. He’s too merry today and it’s creepy.
This is a flirty, maybe cheeky side to him that I have never really been privy too and I don’t get why it’s on show now. An odd vibe
coming from him in droves as his eyes twinkle with a little more depth of colour in the sunlight. He looks as though he has a
smile churning under that good bone structure and his whole posture is casual and relaxed.
Maybe because he no longer owns me and has to seek permission for things he could just take before, he’s applying charm and
sexy. Who knows?
‘No. You agreed! You can’t back pedal now. No touching is what it is ... NO TOUCHING!’ I fire back at him, crossing my arms
over my chest in a bid to get some breathing space between us. I am fully aware my insides have started that slow rise to heat of

their own accord because a hunk of muscle and testosterone is practically pressed against me and talking about sex. Traitorous
knickers twisting themselves up as little flitters in my nether region tingle away crazily.
I am starting to despise the fact that we have a natural sexual chemistry so strong that it even overpowers my longing to loathe
him. I guess that’s how the devil reels you in over and over again though. Makes you open your legs, just with some smooth
moves and a little coaxing.
He’s infuriating me with the way he’s hemming me in against the door, which has now swung closed behind me, and I can’t get
off the step while a huge six-foot hulk is standing in front of me like an unmoveable wall.
‘What about this.’ He pokes me in the rib softly, jokingly, and I swear I might self-implode with how irritating he is being, slapping
him in the shoulder in fast reaction and get even more irate.
‘What is with you today? You’re like a bloody child. Stop touching me! And what’s with this?’ I wave my hand over his mouth area
pulling the cringe face dramatically—Irritation hitching along with my pulse.
‘Why are you being smiley? It’s weird and creepy and something you don’t do.’ I sound petulant and stroppy, but he’s making me
nervous with his out of character behaviour.
He just keeps grinning at me as though to prove my point and I can’t help thinking maybe this is some weird sociopathic trait.
Maybe he has lost the plot in the last months and I am witnessing the creepy, happy calm before he annihilates the world ... Or
maybe just me.
‘Maybe you just put sunshine in my day, Red.’ He mimics Gino’s lazy dialect and flicks my hair with his finger annoyingly, earning
himself another hand slap, although this time on the back of his. It stings my palm and I give him another glare as my mood
borders on violent anger. I don’t like the way he can act as his twin alarmingly well. It doesn’t look right on him somehow and I
don’t like him seeming so Mr Nice.
Yeah, I know I am screwed up. I don’t trust good guys or the act of one.
’Eww, don’t!’ I put my finger in mouth and mock vomit at his attempts.
‘Cringe isn’t your style and you definitely need work on those chat up lines,’ I eyeroll dramatically.
‘Tell me what works for you and I am all in.’ It’s a low, husky definite flirt mode. The charm and jokes are making me uneasy,
narrowing my gaze at him with warning that I am onto his weird little game, even if I don’t know what it is.

‘Is this you being a prick? Or is this you being ... I don’t know ... devious? Isn’t there a puppy somewhere you should be
torturing?’ I’m flustered, face heating because he’s making me fidgety with this completely new side to him, and I can’t for the life
of me figure out what angle he’s playing. Open flirt and chat up lines are never his style and they were never aimed at me. I
know he isn’t being serious; I mean he can’t be, surely, and I don’t get if he thinks this is acceptable humour—it’s not. Not with
our history. It’s in bad taste!
He knows we are not going there again and why would he want to? He’s the one who pushed me out.
‘This is me being late to meet my cousin for boxing practice. I gotta go. Be good for once.’ He pushes my forehead with his palm,
like a sort of cheeky high five, and dodges my well-aimed third slap, laughing at me as he jumps down the steps. He is still
dressed in head to toe casual sportswear and trainers and looks effortlessly ‘lad’ about to go jogging.
I think he’s had a lobotomy as this is NOT Alexi Carrero. Not the one I know anyway.
‘You’re a jerk,’ I yell after him.
‘A sexy jerk; Deny it all you like; I know you agree. You can both loathe and lust after me simultaneously,’ He replies with a grin
and a wink as his car beeps and flashes as he gets near it with a key in his hand. That small dark sporty number he uses when
he isn’t being chauffeured around by minions.
‘That’s arguable. I’m not good at multitasking,’ I throw back, unable to stop the slight smile hitting my face, despite myself—
Confused that he is actually capable of doing it.
His mood is infectious, annoyingly so, and I hate that he, of all people, just managed to drag a genuine smile from me. I have
never known someone who can control such a basic thing while you hate on him ruthlessly ... smiling genuinely, unwillingly, is
completely new on me.
‘Before I forget, I booked the shooting range at eight p.m., wear something comfy. And there will be touching ... a lot of it, just
saying!’ He pulls open the door, winks at me again, cheekily and moves to slide in, but I’m quick off the mark.
‘Wait! Alexi, about that,’ I call out in afterthought, not about the touching remark, even if it’s an instant piss me off point because
he has no chance, but the gun thing.
He pauses and I impulsively make my way down to where he is, steadily down the steep steps on stilettos, coming to stand on
the other side of his open door so it separates us and face him over the top. Bold and brave in the topic we need to talk about. I
can’t miss the opportunity he has just opened up.

‘What about it?’ He turns serious, that glint of Master that I know well and it puts me more at ease than his previous few minutes.
This Alexi I know and can sometimes handle. The Alexi I know how to behave around—the one who never made me smile
despite myself. This is who I need to see so I know how to behave.
‘I thought about it in bed for a long-time last night and ... I don’t want it. The gun ... not the umm ... you know, touching stuff.’ I
don’t know why telling him this makes me nervous, or start rambling like a weirdo, but butterflies start rising in my stomach in
anxiety and I can already feel my palms getting clammy. I guess it’s because I know he isn’t going to like this one bit, and I have
seen enough glimpses of normal Alexi these past few days to know he can still turn. He may be on the charm, or cocaine or
something right now, but that dark side is in there simmering away. He can go from zero to sixty in less than three seconds.
‘Cam?’ Alexi butts in, a deep warning tone, but I raise my palm hesitantly, swallowing down the fearful knot lodged in my throat.
‘Just hear me out.’ My voice trembles a little, but I’m set on this and spent the first hour in bed tossing and turning over it. Pulling
my brain apart and looking at it from all angles. Alexi has a reasonable side sometimes ... just not in relation to feelings. So, if I
give him a logical reason then he might listen to me without blowing up. I’m praying anyway.
I know how to handle him sometimes; I should dig deep and try to keep him sweet.
Alexi sighs heavily, obvious irritation growing, crosses his arms over that impressive chest, which looks overly good in his tight
sports tops may I add, and frowns at me. My heart sinks because Mr Control Freak is peeking out and getting ready to erupt. I
can sense it. I swallow and just go for it, knowing a fast explanation is better than dragging out my ultimate death at the hands of
an angry Carrero.
‘You can teach me all day long how to handle it, fire it and even carry it around like a second skin ... but I am never going to be
as strong or as fast as someone like you.’ I start, sounding confident and have a conviction to my tone. Alexi just remains silent
as though waiting for me to explain further, frown moving in and those deathly steel greys get more intense on my face.