The Carrero Contract - Selling Your Soul (Mafia Romance) novel Chapter 128

She’s small and brunette, curvy in places with an ample pair of tits and has that exotic brown-eyed beauty of a native Sicilian —Attractive in a wifely, cosy girl next door kind of way. I’m not impressed much by her, and she’s dressed like an Italian peasant right out of a history book. I wonder if it’s the gimmick for this place.

Alexi is as he always is around adoring Carrero women, even though she is not one. Charming, warm and entertaining and seems to think touchy-feely is appropriate as she leans in for an awkward hug that lasts for a few seconds. I watch with a lack of amusement, gut aching a little while I battle the spiralling emotion rising in my stomach of my jealous bitch side clenching her claws into my soul. Bitterness has a horrible taste.

She ignores my presence, even when Alexi says my name mid foreign spew of words, and she barely glances my way. It’s not hard to tell she has a major thing for him and I lift my menu, sighing heavily to block her out, and pretend to be engrossed in something I cannot read rather than witness this vomit inducing show of desperation. There is only so much woman gushing I can take around him, and she will probably be in need of an underwear change after this. I swear she’s on the verge of climaxing from just getting to touch him.

‘Cam?’ Alexi breaks into my thoughts as he nods up to my left and I realise old man is standing with a hot plate already by my side and waiting patiently for space. I guess specials are already made and waiting to be dished. Moving my hands and pushing the menu into the holder in the centre to let him in while he lays a steaming, gorgeous smelling plate in front of me I look up at the duo instead.

Cling-on is standing with one hand on Alexi’s shoulder, possessively, as she takes the plate from her father and lays it before him like she is serving some sort of lord and master, and that’s when I catch it—the flicker of deep infatuation as she fondly eye rapes him. The way she keeps nudging in for bodily contact under the guise of innocence and that sort of obvious intimacy of two people who have definitely seen each other naked. The good little submissive girl pandering to her Dom … Without a shadow of a doubt, I instantly know he’s fucked her.

She’s definitely his type anyway—mousy little ‘Yes, Sir’ with no mind of her own and controlled completely by him just breathing her way. She is practically ready to lick his boots or drop to her knees should he command a fucking blow job. It’s pathetic and I instantly hate her.

I roll my eyes as it dawns on me and my mood takes a severe tumble about three floors down. I doubt there are many women in this city who have crossed his path in life that he hasn’t bedded, but isn’t it sweet he brought me to meet one and have himself a little display in front of my very eyes. Parading exactly what he does in his spare time to wound me in any way he can. He never changes and I fell for another game plan move to piss me off and test how much it gets to me.

The answer is—a fucking lot!

Alexi seems to catch the shift in my mood as I pick up my fork and try to stab my food to death, even though it requires a scooping motion. He mutters something to her, so she looks to me, then him, and waves a little half-hearted hand with a crushing expression of disappointment aimed my way. She walks off in pursuit of her father, who has run off to greet some new guests, with a sour expression. I ignore her departure like it doesn’t matter at all. Not going to show him that I am visualising stabbing her in the throat with my fork and possibly impaling Alexi’s balls straight afterwards.

Alexi watches me for a second, says nothing and then starts eating too. A questioning frown on that serious face. I am just bubbling up inside like a quiet little volcano about to blow her top and inwardly seething.

‘You like?’ he asks after we both down a few mouthfuls in minutes and I just nod disinterestedly, as though I have no need for his company anymore. The food is great, but it could be cardboard for all I care right now. Alexi just has a way of making me feel shit without trying and my taste buds are not really connecting to my brain which has a million things swirling around in the chaos of a bad mood.

I’m jealous—I know that’s what this is and it’s dumb and stupid and ridiculous. I don’t want him. I don’t want to have feelings for him and therefore it shouldn’t bother me. He’s slept with probably hundreds of these mousy doe-eyed girls in his lifetime … It’s nothing to do with me. Yet I cannot help the slicing, sharp stabbing pains in my chest and heart and how close I am to crying. As per usual he has tapped directly into my hormonal flip switch and put me on the cliff edge of weeping like a moron.

‘What’s wrong?’ Alexi questions me again and this time I throw on my fake happy face and beam it at him. Not willing to ever let him see that he STILL gets to me. It will die in time, I’m sure of it. Little displays like this will kill what is left of my beating heart soon enough.

‘Nothing … enjoying my food. I was starving,’ I answer emotionlessly, and he just frowns harder at me.

‘We both have pasts, Cam.’ He offers as a way of explanation, clearly honing in on what he thinks my problem is, but I won’t give him the benefit of the doubt. I won’t let him know that it bothers me.

Business—that is all.

‘We sure do … I’m just enjoying my food, Alexi, nothing else,’ I repeat flatly, eyes on the food and not him, even though I can see him in my peripheral vision, and he is still looking at me.

Alexi sighs, his face losing all hints of anything I can read as he just tucks into his too; Glances pulling my attention every so often as we eat in silence and awkwardness grows between us again.

See, this is why it should always just be about business when it comes to us.

‘You want to talk about the club … or eat and go?’ Alexi’s mood has nosedived, evident by the edge in his voice and I just shrug, not feeling this anymore anyway, and throw him another mock smile that is meant to conceal anything deeper going off in my brain.

‘It’s getting late, we should really move.’ I offer as way of an answer and I catch the closing down of his emotions in the flicker of a blink. I see it, the tiny tell of a man who just gave up trying. He looks at his food, concentrates on eating quickly, and sticks to downing water to wash it away.

I, however, quite happily slosh down the red wine like an alcoholic when annoying girl comes and pours it for me. I throw her a salacious look to try and hide how much I wish she would just go away and choke, but she lingers like a bad smell, and my hatred and anger only multiplies with every second she is here. Until the air around me is so toxic it’s almost tinted green with how much venom I am excreting.

‘We don’t need anything else. Thanks.’ Alexi dismisses her coolly and her crumpled expression and quick departure do nothing to ease my rage.

We eat in less than fifteen minutes, both clearing plates without any interaction, or seemingly enjoying what had the potential to be amazing food, and act like nothing is amiss between us. Alexi gets up first and wanders over to the till seemingly ignoring me. I get up and wander to wait by the exit.

When he pays the old man, he has a bit of a sentimental goodbye with them, obvious friendship on show. I stand back by the door and look disinterested; trying to look anywhere but at him.

Girly moves in to embrace him needily, wide-eyed and overly enthusiastic at luring him away from me, but Alexi somehow manages to block her attempt discreetly and leans to give her a quick peck on the cheek before turning on his heel and walking off quickly. She looks surprised, crestfallen at his rebuff, and I just turn and walk out first so he doesn’t need to open the door. It should give me a sense of satisfaction, but it doesn’t. I’m too low in the pits of misery and self-pity to feel anything else.

I guess she was boring him, seeing as his attention span to women is about three point five seconds on average.

We walk to the car, feet apart and I completely ignore him; Simmering inside and cursing myself out for being stupid enough to ever go anywhere with him. I should always remember that he does shit like this to get at me, all the time, and just because he’s being nice or appears like he’s not the shit head he used to be, it doesn’t mean a damn thing. I get into his car and don’t wait around for him to open my door, buckling up quickly.

The car journey is much like the meal—Silent and strained.

Two people lost in thought as we stare in different directions, and it’s obvious there is a growing agitation in him as the air crackles between us. We drive for about two minutes before he finally kills the quiet and snaps at me.

‘What is it? What did I do?’ Alexi sounds pissed, surprisingly, and I just throw him a look that’s meant to say ‘you’re a bit mental, love’ acting like I don’t know what he’s talking about.

‘Don’t even give me that look … innocent and confused don’t fucking suit you!’ Alexi retorts again, only louder and much more venomously, and like a good old shake, he riles my temper too. Bringing it bubbling out of my cesspool of rage.

‘Oh, give over.’ I answer in a very British way, accent slipping to common as he has annoyed me that much and roll my eyes at his overreaction. Silence was fine … he obviously cannot abide being ignored.

‘What the fuck did I do?’ Alexi repeats, anger brimming hellishly in that tone, and I just bite like the idiot I am. Fire matching his as my calm melts away in the volcanic lava that boils up from deep within.

‘Parading your fucking conquests in my face like fucking always. Is that why you took me there? To have yet another woman thrown in my fucking face! For daring to deny you and pissing you off?’ I rage at him, turning in my seat aggressively to face him off, but he just gawps at me like I’m stupid.

‘What? That’s not what I did … and she’s hardly recent … I slept with her when I was eighteen years old, Cam. It didn’t even cross my mind!’ He sounds angry, maybe worse than me, but as I am spitting bullets and ignoring all the inner warning about making him mad, I carry on.

‘Whatever. I don’t fucking care anyway, so just shut up and leave me alone!’ I spit at him violently.

‘You don’t care huh? Yet you sat in a foul mood and made lunch unbearable, all because some girl I fucked over ten years ago came near me. Really seems like it.’ He lets out a sardonic laugh and I just rip my gaze away and stare out the window, knowing I just walked into that one.

He now knows I am still jealous … fucking idiot that I am.

‘Maybe I do okay, but so what? You spent the best part of six months tormenting me with other women, so excuse me for still being sensitive about that whole thing and not appreciating it being rubbed in my face.’ Tears bite me and I inwardly curse my inability to remain emotionally stable around this man. He just brings it out of me like a torrent of unleashed water that I have no control over.

‘I’M FUCKING SORRY!!!!’ He yells at me so loudly it’s like a boom, making me jump in reaction, and I just spin on him with a death glare of fury; Seat belt straining with the effort of containing me.

‘SORRY DOESN’T CUT IT!’ I screech straight back, right in his face, incensed with the nerve of the prick. More so as he puts metal to the floor, giving it more gas and speeds up our journey back to the club. My heart ends up in my throat as I cling onto my seat in sheer terror, but I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me scared at his driving. He’s only trying to get at me.

‘Neither does giving you half my club, my apartment, my time and attention or my fucking patience, it seems,’ Alexi snarls. Tone moving to that low and serious psycho level I used to melt into a puddle at hearing, but not this time, not anymore.

‘You can’t buy forgiveness, Alexi!’ I snap, battling myself to try to remain calm as the swirling fury builds up inside of me to combat my exploding nerves.

‘So tell me how I do gain it, Cam? … because I have no fucking clue when it comes to you, and whether you believe it or not … I am sorry for what I did to you. I am just so sick of trying to figure out how to prove it.’ He sounds fed up, angry and just over this whole conversation already.

‘Maybe I need to know why? Maybe you just need to tell me what it is that I did to deserve it, so I can understand why? What it was about me that made you want to destroy me … I need to understand why you did all that and then U turned completely and brought me back again. MAYBE I need to know what happened in those four months that changed you from a total prick to someone who takes me out on lunch dates and buys me birthday gifts like he might actually give a shit. I don’t get it … I don’t get how you can go from hating me to acting like you might care, or is all this still just a game to you? How am I expected to believe anything you say or do when I don’t trust any of your motives?’ It’s out in a whoosh of tears, hatred and frustration. Hands shaking, body stiff as I confront him and Alexi falls instantly silent, deadpan taking over as he looks at me and swallows hard.

There’s a long silent stretch as he looks from me to road and then back again; Furrowed brow deepening, a look in his eyes that I cannot place, and then he sighs heavily and swallows again.

‘I didn’t hate you … I cared. I always cared. I just didn’t believe you or trust you. I read you all wrong and I hurt you to punish you for getting to me in ways I couldn’t control.’ He sounds different. His anger has dissipated, replaced with a quieter wounded tone. A hint of emotion in his voice, sombre, and losing all his aggression.

I actually believe his words for once because there is something in his deliverance that says honesty. I don’t know why I know, but I do.

There it is though, between us—the confession I needed to hear that night when I held a gun to my head, whether it’s true or not.

Too little too late.

‘Believe me? … What do you mean believe me? What are you talking about?’ I pick apart his dialogue and assess it, but that one sticking point needs more clarification. I feel all messy in my head, jumbled up and clinging onto the last ounces of calm as confusion mingles with some sense of hurt and relief at getting a real answer from him.

I look at him pleadingly … brain going back to the million times we were together and what exactly I did to be doubted.

I didn’t tell him how I felt until he had me twisted up inside, chewed me up and spat me out. I don’t understand what he means by that statement. I never lied to him or told him anything he could take as a lie. There was nothing to not ‘believe’ in any of it.