The Carrero Contract - Selling Your Soul (Mafia Romance) novel Chapter 177

I just snap my lips shut, throw Alexi my most venomous look and slide across the seat in an attempt to claw back some dignity, crossing my arms once more and moving away so he won’t touch me, and to show him how pissed off I am. Alexi slides in, slaps my thigh a little saucily and nudges me over with his shoulder and hip so he can have more room. His grey eyes fixing on mine, light and cloudless, which suggests he really isn’t in a combative mode at all. He looks annoyingly chilled.

“Rude!” I snap, annoyed that he bodily moved me while smirking like a smug dickhead at his own hilarities. Nothing about this is funny. His manhandling, his manner, his fucking annoyingly happy and jokey mood. He has plenty to be sorry for.

Abduction, assault, imprisonment, all very good reasons for me to be pissed off at him.

“Yeah but I’m sexy, so I get away with it.” He really is on some weird happy sarcastic mood kick. I look to the ceiling for strength and exhale noisily.

“What is wrong with you? Why are you being so … ugh.” I give up. I’m in a strange place between tearful, afraid and seething mad and can’t seem to figure out what to do with all of that. It just has me tired. Prickly, caged in and lashing out like a terrified cat in a cage.

“Happy? Non-argumentative?” He smiles with that devilish twinkle in his eye and throws his arm across the back of the seat as we get shut inside, so he circles my shoulders. Closing in on me like prey he’s about to devour.

“Prickish,” I retort coldly.

“Because I woke up this morning and realised, I get to torment the shit out of you every single day for the rest of your life, and you signed up for it.”

If that’s what you call it? Ownership and abuse.

That cheeky smirk turns into a full-on grin with his arrogant cockiness at the fact I’m now tethered to this arsehole until I divorce him or die trying. I can already tell he’s going to be unbearable. In his head, I probably just need sleep, time, indulgence, to get over my mood and we can live happily ever after in our forced marriage.

“You know people get married to love and cherish each other for life, not see it as an excuse to deliver emotional and mental torture to the one stuck with them.” The truth in my words sting, and I have to close my eyes again to control the waterfall waiting to tumble out.

“Yeah, but you married me.” A wink this time, which pulls an eye roll and a grimace out of me. I’m not impressed with this man; from the moment I opened my eyes, and it’s getting worse by the minute. Nothing he can say or do will help.

“God help me. We need to get a divorce; I already hate you and it’s only been one morning.”

“It’s against my religion, looks like it’s till death do us part.” He scoops my hand in his and surrounds my fingers with his snugly, pulling my hand onto his lap and cradles it there. I don’t stop him. Wishing the normal soothing warmth his touch gives me was present, but it’s not. I just stiffen, let my hand go slack and don’t react in the way I normally would at his touch. That sense of calm and safe is dead. I feel restrained.

I sulk and stare out the window and ponder my life. About what I’m going to do with this nugget head next to me and that goddamn marriage certificate. I can’t stay with him like this. It’ll only make me feel worse. Like suffocating to death every day of your life, over and over—like drowning.

I watch the Vegas scenery roll by, trying to get lost in my own thoughts, resigned that I should stop opposing this trip and get it over and done with. I’m only slightly aware of Alexi’s voice when he starts talking to someone on his cell phone. I zone him out and rest my head against the chair behind me, letting out all my anxiety and woes in a long emptying breath. Trying hard to calm myself, ease the rivers of molten lava pouring through my body. Blank out the pain and fear and grasp at rational.

I just need to get my head around this before I can figure out my next step. Try to battle down my demons and think logically. I know most of this is an erratic panicked response to a situation, and it’s made worse by lack of sleep and a major hangover. I should breathe and let it all slow down and sink in gently.

I mean what’s the worst outcome, really. Sensibly, if I forget why I’m feeling like I do.

I’m living with him already, so I guess it just becomes permanent. No big horror there. If he behaves and nothing changes then it’s no different to cohabiting … right?

No. He owns me now.

I get more respect from everyone if I’m not just his mistress; I guess. A Carrero is protected and cherished in his world.

That’s not worth it.

Okay, job security because he will never fire his wife.

Yes, he would. He totally would because he now thinks he has a say over everything I do.

I try to see the positives beyond the whole getting to spend my life with him and share his bed every night, shackled to my master and obedience whether I agree or not. If I try hard and forget the ‘owned for life by a complete control freak who knows how to destroy me’, maybe I will calm down.

It’s marriage. Tied to him for eternity. Possible servitude, and what if I try to leave him?

Running away as his wife will be a hell of a lot harder than just some random mistress.

I ran when I was thirteen. It got me locked in a little room, tied to a bed and punished for days. Alexi isn’t all that different. I’m his now. He owns me legally. He wouldn’t take kindly to me running.

Stop it, Camilla. Alexi isn’t Rick. You’re blurring the lines because it scares you. Stop obsessing and think clearly.

The girl who swore to never allow another man to own her in any way. To never bow down and accept another master, and I just drunkenly married the biggest control freak I have ever met in my life. Someone who has proven to me before just how much of a cruel sadist he can be. Someone who broke me in ways no man ever has.

I shudder at the thought that he could change now he has the leverage over me and involuntarily tremble.

I can’t see past it.

“Are you okay?” Alexi turns his head, pausing on his phone mid-conversation to look at me, pulling my eyes to him. Concern etched lightly on that smooth tanned face.

“Hungover and in need of a nap.” I lie faultlessly, impulsively, hiding the real reasons behind my shakes. Internally crapping myself for something most girls spend their life dreaming of. Alexi’s expression softens and he smiles a tad.

“We won’t stay long, and we can have lunch at the suite after, if you prefer that to going out?” He cocks his head to the side with a studious scan of my face. I can tell he’s doubting the truth in my words; he has an inkling I’m not being completely honest, and I turn back to the window to stop him dissecting me. Finding pain in the gentle look he is giving me, and it only makes my thoughts riot all over again.

If he gets a whiff of my desire to run, who knows how that will go. He would come after me.

“Yeah. I need more sleep.” I exhale heavily as though to prove the point, cringing as he squeezes my hand with a little tender acknowledgement and goes back to his call.

I feel wretched for lying to him. I haven’t done that since we started this romantic, lovers to whatever we are now, and all it does is make me feel guilty. Crazy really, considering I used to lie my way through life effortlessly and I’m sat here convincing myself he is once again the devil incarnate and about to chain me to a cross.

I don’t lie to him anymore and I curse myself for eating myself inside out because of it. My hand moves to my lap, sliding free of his and I fidget with the hem of my tailored blouse over the long pencil skirt I’m wearing. Nervously, brain and emotions in turmoil.

Stop internalising and just tell him. Give him the chance to defend himself and sort your head out, Camilla. Let him help you shake away the demons and give you the reassurance once more. You know he can.

I know that there is a side of him that reaches me in places no one can. If I speak, say something, maybe his part can find mine. She’s in here hiding, curled up small and crying to be saved from herself all over again. I need to focus on the fact he is the one person who has proven he can do that.

Help me settle the demons back into their deep dark holes and show me the way once more.

“Actually …” I clear my throat as the word tumbles out painfully, nerves choke me instantly and I curse myself for my inability to just tell him the truth. My inner conscience when it comes to him is annoyingly dominant, guilt mauling me, but my fear of verbalising vulnerability is taking over. Old Camilla and old habits are hard to separate when I feel like everything is in jeopardy.

Alexi pauses, moves his phone to his shoulder and regards me seriously. That look that tells me nothing at all and I realise I can’t really gauge how he will react when I’m unable to tell how he is feeling at the moment. Too caught up in myself to read him. I lose my courage completely and swallow my words.

“Never mind, it’ll keep for later.” I fold, even more so when those dark annoyingly perfect straight eyebrows furrow across his face and he looks a tiny bit irritated. Just adding to the weight of my fear.

“If you’re sure?” It’s one last olive branch to talk this out but I shrug it away. Insides gnawing with nerves. Courage lacking and I swallow it down.

We have a whole casino to view and then an afternoon in our hotel no doubt. We don’t fly home until tomorrow so I’m sure it can keep until we are alone. Build up some bravado to broach this topic once more when I’m less hungover and dying. Maybe give him a chance to help me through this mess in my head because I don’t think I can do it alone.

“Positive.” I throw a weak, feeble smile that doesn’t ring true and avoid his penetrative gaze once more. Breaking my heart because I need help to get me through what I’m feeling, and I just denied myself the hand of the person who has the power. I’m pulling away from him and dissolving all we have built.

I’m willing the minutes away until we get to this damn building. Alexi goes back to his call and I can tell it’s Mico on the other end when I actually listen to what he is saying. Trying to focus on something other than my own mental breakdown and breathe slowly in through my nose to push the anxiety attack further away.

“She will forgive me, eventually. Might cost me a divorce though.” He winks when he catches me watching him and my face flushes at how easily he is joking about this. It’s surreal that he just doesn’t get it.

His mood isn’t on the negative side even if he is in cool and controlled mode, but I guess it’s because we are on our way to a business appointment. Alexi wears different masks for different scenarios and likes to get in character and the right mindset before getting there. He might just be cheerful about buying something new and putting this issue aside while he focuses on what he is doing.

That’s what he does, and I know this. He has always separated the emotional aspect from business and put one aside when needed.

I don’t get why he isn’t more freaked out like me over this whole marriage thing though. Alexi is literally the biggest commitment-phobe on the planet and had no intention of shackling himself to anyone, ever. He didn’t even rate women as worthy of constant companionship before us.

How can he not understand how huge and terrifying all of this is?

He smirks as he listens to his right-hand man, looking irritatingly handsome in his casual attire and well-groomed appearance. Relaxed, confident and very much still the wolf-like sex god I met in the first days of life with Alexi. Getting to know this nicer side has never taken away from that badass persona and panther-like demeanour he has going on. If anything, knowing him the way I am beginning to only makes me realise how effortlessly suited to his world he is and none of it was ever an act. He really is a straight up gangster.

“Well, she dislikes Mrs Carrero immensely, so maybe stick with Camilla. Yeah, hates it more than London.”

Ha fucking Ha.

So now they’re joking over what to call me. I whip my hand out and stick my middle finger up at him in an unladylike retort and frown grumpily his way. Still agitated and all over the place.

“Tosser.”

He just smiles at me, dimples and charm oozing over me and I try to ignore the little internal flutters they still give me. Hints of him relaxing and the hostile snap at me earlier is fading away. His move back to a sunnier disposition is unwittingly calming me down.

I riled him with my reaction and Alexi does what he does, gets hostile and bites back because I know you have to handle him a certain way. It’s a circle with us. I bite, he bites, I bite harder and so on until something gives. Alexi took another route and has been trying to diffuse us away from fire and hell hath no fury, knowing this is what we do. He’s trying to combat it.

Another hint that I’m just overreacting and should just talk to him about what I’m feeling, instead of pushing him away and hating him for my messy head.

Damn him.

“Yup that was her. Looks like I might be on the couch for the rest of our unofficial honeymoon.” He chuckles with no seriousness, mood still improving as the morning progresses and I’m overwhelmed with almighty heartfelt guilt and crushing regret.

He tries so hard and every time I just slap him down and see only the worst in his intentions. I always fail to see what’s staring me in the face. I let my mistrust blind me to reality.

He loves me and would change the world to keep me happy.

That comment is the final straw, I don’t even know why, other than I just can’t hold all this in anymore and everything I have been clenching inside like a crumbling damn just bursts free, like the frayed rope holding the weight up, finally snaps. All the angst and anxiety and worry and confusion, fear and memories, and I just burst into immediate tears with a loud spontaneous sob. Pain because I’m hurting both of us with my ingrained insecurity and terror.

My hands fly to my face and I turn away, so he doesn’t see me cry like a moron. Mortified that it all just broke like this when I was trying to keep it from him. I couldn’t hold the act any longer and now I’m gushing wounds and heartache all over myself. A pathetic woeful collapse, ripping masks off left, right and centre.

Everything just hurts so much.

“London? Cam? What is it?” His hands pull me back to him, unravelling my tightly hunched body as he unclips my belt and tugs me into his lap and a strong embrace, fluidly. Speedy, effortless because to him I’m feather light. He pulls my face to his and curls in around me, caging me into that security of his warm body so he has his nose touching mine from a weird angle. Instantly wrapped in Carrero and strangely cocooned in a tight space that just feels and smells of him.

Instant safety, the missing sense of security I was aching for, and despite my whirring thoughts, he is still an anchor in the stormy sea when I least expect it.

“Talk to me.” The soft concern in his tone matches the panic in his voice and I stop my stupid noises to try to talk. Blubbering like a fool, sodden from my outpouring and floundering hysterically. Swallowing and inhaling heavily to calm the crazy and say something. My insides heavy and weighed down with aching pain.

“How can … you … why are you not …?” It’s a mess of soggy words and sniffs and I gulp as I try to regain control properly. Unable to pull myself together for one coherent sentence.

“Take a breath, calm down. Nice and slow. Take your time, baby.” He strokes my face so very gently and smooths my hair away from my now drenched cheeks tenderly, that coldness has gone and only the soft and caring version of Alexi is here with me right now. The man I need. Smoothing my hair, brushing my cheeks to catch falling drips and snuggles me in so close, all my senses home into his body and nothing else.

I will always need him.

I needed him when I woke up, not the angry yelling him, that snaps when I do. I needed this version of him to just give me time to filter in what I was finding out.

Brushing through the hair on my temple with his fingertips to calm me down as he cradles me close with his other arm tightly around me. Finding a strand of my hair to twist in the way he does when he is soothing me, my scalp tingles from the tiny tugging and I find the inner calm moving back in to silence the manic panic. Gaining control of my tears and erratic gasping, burying my face against him and holding on tight like my life depends on him. Clinging to my rock.

He still has the gift.

“I’m scared.” It comes out breathily, a low feeble whisper, and he frowns as he strains to hear me. Pulling my face back with careful fingers so he doesn’t lose eye contact with me. So close he’s blurry to my tear-washed eyes.

“Of what? Me? I thought we were past that.” The crestfallen way his face changes and he hugs me a little closer, wrapping me in a bear hug. Regret evident in that gorgeous pair of the palest grey eyes. Bringing me hypnotically to stillness and shaking some sense into me finally as it’s all laid in front of me so obviously. Alexi was never going to hurt me. He’s who he is for me, and that won’t change, even with a binding license to tie me to him.

My past, my fears choking me into this hysteria. He isn’t the reason. I’m punishing him for my own scars.

“Marriage. Ownership … being a prisoner.” I can barely say the offending words, gulping and breathing in heavily to regain some sense of sanity and stillness. The trauma of uttering it brings full-on shame coursing through me horribly. Alexi squeezes me again and turns my strand of hair around his finger a little more so the scalp tingles to ground me again. Instinctively knowing how to soothe me, with just his low tone, soft touches and keeping me close.