The Carrero Contract - Selling Your Soul (Mafia Romance)

Chapter 176

Exactly one hour to the second after he left the room he walks back in, looking a little stony-faced and unreadable. His mood appears frosty and he casts me a glance as I sit on the couch finishing up my lipstick. I pretend I’m not affected by his sudden appearance and don’t react to him walking in. Focusing hard on just applying my signature red stain while holding a compact mirror.

Although, in reality, my heart skips a beat, my stomach sinks and I have to breathe very slowly to keep my calm at the sight of him. My hands tremble. I feel sick instantly and know that we are either going to fight or … well, who am I kidding. We are probably just going to fight. I mean, how can we not?

I overreacted slightly—majorly. I can’t undo that reaction and yet I’m still internally panicking like a freak and not able to even broach the M word yet.

I’m clean, dressed, made up and less ‘ugh’ after several aspirins and two bottles of water. I haven’t eaten yet as my insides are still doing the washing machine cycle of a hangover program, but I feel more human. A little less psychotic.

Emotionally I’m still nowhere further forward other than in a state of ‘was this all a dream’ but his manner brings it all back to reality. Alexi is as closed off and prickly as when he left, and it just ruins my Zen that I have been struggling to maintain while doing my face.

I sat and stared at that certificate for the best part of 15 minutes and despite the crazy manic panic running through me, there was also incredible sadness for the most stupid things. A deep gut- wrenching regret that contradicted my reaction as a whole.

I will never know what it was like to have him propose. I will never have pre-wedding nerves or doubts, and I will never have a memory of marrying him if this pans out and we make a go of it. If I even can. I will never know the highs and lows that go with any of those things, nor experience the excitement or feelings of joy, the emotions … any of it. I have nothing of that at all. I woke up married, like a clinical,

manipulated manoeuvre, and it’s left me hollow and broken in so many ways. Like a shock to the system and I’m still reeling in the aftermath.

Maybe if I had all of that, my gut instinct might have not been to freak out about being locked up for life in a dark hole and abused till the end of time. If I had some control, some say, made a choice and had a memory of wanting it … then, maybe.

Yeah, the idiotic things that invaded my brain while tearing my hair out over my unexpected marriage to a dickhead.

Instead, I can’t stop obsessing over this overwhelming claustrophobia of being someone’s possession. It’s leaving a sour taste in my mouth, and even having time to really examine it and talk some sense into myself, I can’t shift that terror of being owned. A deep scar from past lives that have no bearing on how he feels about me, yet it changes everything.

I feel insecure, frightened about the future. My peace of mind and contentment he helped nurture, has gone.

I lost all of that in one drunken haze that ended with very wild sex, and lots of it judging by the mess of lube and champagne all over the sheets when I went looking for my bracelet.

I woke up shackled. A name on a piece of paper binding me to my master. Contained, entrapping me for life.

I push that aside, knowing I’m being irrational, and I just need to let this settle for a while. Get used to it and stop letting those inner fears and scars cloud over reality and twist my brain into seeing worse than is there. Focus on other things.

Anything.

Like, what kind of sex we had in here last night.

Lube is new for us, so I’m guessing I got kinky and wanted anal. I have been known to like it occasionally, when I feel dominant, kinky, and get on top to do it for myself, and drunken sex with Lexi I can imagine he was very open to something like that. He doesn’t seem like a guy who wouldn’t be into adventurous sex given past performances, and it explains why even back there is tender. He’s not a small boy, I might have to sit on a doughnut for a week.

I’m also deeply gutted that I broke my bracelet, even if I’m hating on him right now for no good reason, seeing as he hasn’t actually done anything wrong. Not by sane standards, anyway. Just me and my faulty wiring and screwed up emotional mess.

I must have caught the catch during our bed aerobics as I have snapped the clasp and had to leave it dejectedly on the table while I got ready. Something else I’m smarting over, and every time I look at it, I feel like crying. It feels symbolic to me. Breaking the charm bracelet he gave me that encouraged me to never give up on my dreams of freedom.

Ironic.

It’s the first thing Alexi’s eyes fall on as he wanders closer. His presence making me nervous like it used to, and I know all of this is psychological on my part.

I’m a goddamn mess.

He doesn’t say anything, just picks up the bracelet and examines it before dropping it back on the table carefully, my eyes following it as he does so.

“We will get it fixed when we get home. If you still want it that is?” It’s a boyish, hurt statement uttered sulkily and I sigh at him heavily, despite all my inner angst. I’m a little less crazy after having some

headspace and not really looking for a cat fight with him. His manner eats away at me, softening some of my iciness.

“Don’t be like that. Of course, I want it. Stop being a dumb arse.” I glance his way, trying to be less hostile than I was, aware that yes, he is maybe hurting, and I should say I’m sorry, but I just can’t. I feel like he trapped me somehow, even if it was my idea. I can’t shake that.

He looks away from me to the side of the room, tensing his jaw and I can’t tell if he is mad or just upset. I guess he will be worse when I tell him I’m not coming. I just can’t face going outside and touring a casino when my brain is in lockdown and telling me to run away.

“Look just go to your thing. I’m hungover and not in the best frame of mind. I’ll be here when you get back. I just need some quiet and space to think about all of this.” I sound confident but my voice wavers over the last words, knowing full well he will react badly. He snaps his eyes back to me and glares with that terrifying Devil Alexi look.

Here we go.

I lose all courage and hate that my nerves fritter back to that feeble mess he used to lord over. I’m doing this to myself and it’s only adding to my fear that things are now going to change. I’m sliding backwards and all those feelings for him I was overcoming are grabbing me tight and pulling me under.

“Hell, No! You are coming, even if I have to drag you there kicking and screaming.” He snaps at me and I blink to stop the sudden wash of mist that clouds my vision with surprise tears. Close to emotionally breaking because I’m in a weird, fragile mood. Defences igniting and doing what they do to shield me. They make me mad.

It’s not a sweet request but a fucking command and like good old Cam and Lexi, my rage ignites at him thinking he can tell me what to do.Contentt bel0ngs to N0ve/lDrâ/ma.O(r)g!

“Fuck off. I’m staying put. You can’t do shit about it; you don’t own me, so stop acting like you do!” I snap right back at him, verbalising that internal issue in my fury; anger meeting anger and our eyes lock on target. Fire in their depths.

“Watch me.” It’s that low husky growl that used to put the fear of God into me when he used it in the past, but I just lift my chin higher as I rise elegantly from the couch and walk around it to head back to my room. Completely faking bravado as my insides melt like goo, but I’ll be damned if he’ll see me afraid of him, ever again.

“Be a good boy and toddle off, I’m hungover and tired and will take a nap while you go see your boring casino.” I pat myself on the back at the deliverance of my haughty put-down, despite feeling far from sassy. Putting on my mask and hiding the real me from him at this moment. Everything changing in my head and I saunter off barefoot towards the bedroom with the confidence I no longer feel.

I just need to not be around him until I get my shit in order. I’m afraid of him all over again and it’s eating me inside out. I can feel his metaphorical collar around my neck, choking me slowly.

I squeak in surprise when the bastard hooks me from behind by the wrist, tugs me so hard I spin towards him, catching my breath, and in the blink of an eye end up over his shoulder in a very unladylike fashion. So fast I can’t even counteract it.

I start fighting, of course, pulling at his shirt and pushing his head so he will let me go but he doesn’t. Squealing, fighting, slapping his muscular shoulder because I hate being restrained and carried about and was already in that mode of uncooperative battling.

He just wraps an arm around my legs so I can’t move them, smacks me hard on my arse so that the noise echoes the room, only muffled by my cry of ‘ouch’ loudly in his ear; then he almost drops me when he bends down to retrieve my shoes. It has the same effect as completely shackling me. I can hardly move from my position and hitting him only hurts my hands.

“Put me down, dickhead.” I squawk at him, but he just bumps me higher over his shoulder, bouncing my groin on bone and muscle that’s really uncomfortable and I ‘ooft’ with the feeling. He spins me around towards the door and strides purposefully towards the exit. Ignoring my protests and treating me exactly like I’m now his to own and possess.

“I swear to God, Alexi. You put me down this instant or I will scream all the way down the foyer and get you arrested. This is not fucking acceptable!” I’m hysterical, voice rasping my throat painfully and still trying to use my fingers to prise his arm off my legs. I can barely reach it from this angle.

“I’m not against knocking you out, baby.” It’s a snarl, even if he does call me baby, and I gawp in open- mouthed disbelief. That cold sweep of genuine terror as I doubt his words.

All my fears falling into place and this is exactly what I would expect of the arsehole I worked for a year ago. Marriage and its chains binding me to a prick I no longer like. The change I was expecting. Lord and master. Sadist and ruler. Cruel and cold.

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“Didn’t you say that about me carrying you and look, here we are.” He pats my arse again with my shoes this time and I lean over as far as I can and smack him hard on his own butt, which is moving below me as we walk. Determined to maim him and fight to the last. Alexi doesn’t even flinch and my palm stings with the after-effects.

I fought my way out of hell once before; I left Rick … I won’t be owned!

“Fuck you,” I spit venomously, and try to push myself off, to no avail. He’s striding purposely and I’m in a grip that is more on par with a superhero than a mere mortal.

“Anyway, do you really think the hotel security will intervene in a newlywed tiff? I mean, they’re family.” He chuckles this time, not an evil enjoying my pain kind of laugh, but genuinely amused, and it just

confuses me even more. I curb the urge to slap him over the head as we make our way down the hall to the lift that comes up to the penthouse floor. Anger flooding me and replacing inner angst. Rage bubbling from inside of me that this shithead thinks he can do with me as he pleases, and that self- preservation of Camilla Walters kicks in massively. I’m burning up with the fire consuming me.

“So much for being a changed man! You’re the same controlling shithead who tied me to a fucking cross!” It’s all I have to throw at him, still wriggling and trying to break free, but he just tightens his grip until it hurts me enough that I stop. He is still a bastard under all that charm.

“London, if I didn’t love you, I would have choked you until you passed out to avoid the agro.”

“Fuck you, fuck you. FUCK YOU!!!” I yell it at him, purposely leaning as near to his ear as I can to deafen him with screeches, and he leans away slightly, a furrow to his brow as I obviously injure his eardrum. It’s all I have.

“Do not make me silence you. You won’t like it.” It’s not really said in a snarling way. No growl, no evil intent. It’s more of a sigh and an ‘I’m fed up’ passive-aggressive remark.

“Don’t make fucking threats or I will be gone as soon as you put me down, wanker. I’m not afraid of you.” It’s a lie, tears biting at my eyes and determination not to show him that’s exactly what I am right now. Lost in the past mentally and everything blurring together insanely. My chest is constricting so much, my lungs are burning with the effort to breathe and I feel like I’m escalating to a point where breath will no longer be possible. My heart ripping through my rib cage as it pounds mercilessly against it. It physically hurts.

I try to slap his arse again, but he dumps me on my feet as soon as the lift doors shut, locking us in here; I totter unsteadily and slam a palm to the wall to steady myself and I’m momentarily stunned as I try to get my bearings. The silver steel box-like shell of a lift and the sudden release leaves me woozy;

the room spins a little, and it shuts me up as that awful creeping cold washes over me and turns my stomach inside out. He pulls me to face him and thrusts my shoes at me harshly.

“We can dance in circles, insult each other, make threats, throw things, fight and have ourselves some major headache inducing drama. We both know that ends up with me coming after you, saving your ass and then we kiss and make up … or … do as your fucking told, and I will take you somewhere nice for lunch after. Good girls get rewards.” Alexi moves back out of range of my shoes in case I make a swing for him, but I just glare hatefully. Despising that tiny hint of a smirk and the way he’s eyeing me up, completely amused at my discomfort.

“Why are you such a tosser?” I’m shell shocked. Feeling like he just dragged me through an emotional bush and I just blink at him bewildered. My brain leaving my body somehow like I’m not really here.

“Why are you such a nightmare at times?”

Despite everything I’m feeling and fighting him on, his words wound me. Like a knife right in my heart.

“Fuck you. I don’t even want to go to your stupid Casino, anyway.” I sulk, turning away from him to the left so I face the doors and not him, trying to compose the rush of three thousand conflicting feelings pulling me apart inside. Alexi pulls me back to him again, annoyingly easily, stronger than I will ever be, a hand on my upper arm snugly.

“Our casino, Mrs Carrero.” It’s a smug, sarcastic little smile and eyebrow raise, and it just ignites my fury once more. That sense of suffocation that turns all my sanity switches to off.

“Don’t call me that, you utter wanker.” I impulsively swing a shoe at him, which he dodges expertly before breaking into a laugh and loses all forms of aggression. Not really seeing my tear-filled eyes or hearing the subtle sniff as I catch my misery from breaking through. Blind to everything except my fury, which seems to be amusing him.

He has no concept of how much this is fucking me up inside. Everything feels different and shaky and suddenly all trust and security are gone. I feel alone all over again. Trapped in a box with no way out and limited oxygen that’s running out. Alexi is dismissing my behaviour as me being combative and grumpy and to him, it’s banter, humour. Whatever the fuck he is reading it as, and he is acting accordingly. For once his great skills at reading people is failing him, well, not that I’m surprised. He told me I’m the one person in the world he finds impossible to read. My masks are as effective as his.

“Get used to it. It’s your new title.” He smiles properly, a twinkle in his eye and that Hollywood finest dazzling his whites at me. It just leaves me cold.

“Don’t make me hurt you. This isn’t funny, Alexi.” It’s a raw moment of strained emotion as he appears more amused by the second and he pulls a shoe out of my hand and drops it on the floor in front of me, motioning to put it on. I slap the other one in his chest for him to hold, realising wearing shoes might be an advantage and glare some more. Still trying to maintain that haughty demeanour and not let him see how much I’m truly hurting inside.

He can’t see me weak and vulnerable. He’ll exploit it, he knows how.

“It’s a little funny. Look at you all riled up and ready to impale me with a shoe.” He tweaks my cheek cutely, holding onto my stiletto I almost stabbed him with and smiles at me in sickening adoration that is clearly fake, and a piss take. Laying it on thick and I baulk at how much I want to stab him in the centre of that smug arsehole face.

“Yeah, I’m such a catch. It’s no wonder you jumped to marry me while I was semi-conscious and unable to make a rational decision on my own.” I spit back, bitterness and truth in my words, while pulling on my shoes and yank the other from him to follow suit. Oozing sarcasm through dislike and just get another infuriating smile dazzling my way.

“See, this is why we work. We understand each other so well.”

No, we don’t. You have no idea what I’m thinking or feeling.

“Fuck up, tosser.” I pull my shoe on aggressively and then turn to stamp my foot down to get it on properly and cross my arms facing the door once more. Needing not to look at him while I get this under control and just breathe. Count to ten, let the panic pass and realise, he isn’t actually hurting me. It’s all in my head and he hasn’t really done anything.

I feel hatred and fear and a lot of other shit because my brain is having a hard time separating reality from the past, that’s all. I need to calm down and evaluate all of this. Alexi could hurt me but he’s not. He carried me but he’s not actually trying to scare me.

“Psycho.” He tweaks my cheek again and earns himself a hand slap for his efforts. Too tetchy and his touch is driving me crazy, making my skin feel like ants are crawling all over me.

“Stop trying to be cute, it’s not working.” I’m fully enveloped within myself and my own mental thoughts and he has no chance of bringing me round. Soon as we hit our floor, I’m leaving him there and getting back in this lift so he cannot get to me. I need to be away from him like. I need my space, my freedom, my air, my sanity.

I’ll need to time it so that I dart back in as the doors shut and he is facing the other way. I’ll show him how this will play out. No one will ever drag me back to slavery. To imprisonment. I didn’t spend years fleeing and clawing to be free, to end up right back in a locked room.

I can’t stop this overwhelming desire to just run. Fast as I can, as far as I can. From him. From my gilded cage, locks and chains, straps and crosses, and little dark rooms where objects are made to sleep so they know their place.

I close my eyes and force Rick out of my head, sickened at his sudden appearance and do my best to shake it away. Bile rising as his smarmy cruel grin bites at me inside my skull. Laughing at me for

coming full circle, taunting me for being too weak to evade this.

He’s not Rick. He’s not going to hurt me.

I resist the urge to force my knuckles against my temples to drive him out, squeezing my eyes shut for a second to cull the movie in my head.

When the door opens, I fasten on my fake sweet smile as soon as I feel the air from the hall hit my legs. Autopilot taking over and go to follow him out, as per my plan. Head moving to calculate an escape plan, but Alexi is having none of it and in a similar manoeuvre to our room, he hoists me back onto his shoulder in an undignified manner. Igniting my fight-or-flight impulse.

“Alexi!!!” I squeal as we depart, only this time he has had the foresight to pin my arms with my body so I literally cannot do a thing to break free. I can’t hit or slap or do anything except flail around like a dolphin on dry land.

Many heads turn our way as I’m Neanderthal carried across the foyer, breathing heavily and just mentally adding this to the list of all the reasons he won’t ever see me again after this. He’s crossing the line.

“Can’t have you making a run for it, can I London?” He bounces me on his shoulder so it almost winds me, and I get another arse slap for my trouble. It’s not heavy or sore it’s just another Alexi ownership action. Another reason to flee.

I hate that he knew exactly what I was thinking.

Prick!!

“Stop fucking doing that. I honest to God fucking hate you sometimes!” Another venomous hiss through watery eyes and clenched tears. He has no clue what’s going on inside of me and stupidly thinks this is

just how we are occasionally.

“Just sometimes? It must be true love.” He throws back with a merry tone and I relent, seeing boobs at the main desk, watching us as her eyes almost pop out of her head. It has a dampening effect on me, self-preservation kicking in and her snide blue eyes distract me from my current mood. I lift my chin, swallow it all down for appearance's sake because I hate that tramp. I’ll be damned if she thinks Alexi and I are in trouble, so I try to look less abducted and more ‘lovers having fun’. Smirking cattily and wink at her when she catches my eye. Bitch looks away but I get none of the smugness from putting her in her place. I just want to wail at him to let me go.

I could honestly punch him in the throat about now.

“I don’t like you very much.” I hurl it at his head quietly, turning to glare at him from my viewpoint with every ounce of loathing I can muster right at this moment.

“You didn’t say you don’t love me so I will take that as a good sign.”

“Wanker.”

“Wifey! I like that, I may now call you that instead of London.” He really seems to be enjoying my pain, much like he used to. Jocular light tone, bouncing me like he has a kid on his hip. I actually despise him.

“I swear to fucking God, stop FUCKING calling me that.” It’s no better than Rick calling me his ‘little girl’ his ‘pretty’. Labels for toys, titles for possessions.

Nausea chokes me as bile rises in my throat and I clench my eyes closed to shift that bastard out of my head. In all these years I have never had this much trouble closing him down and pushing him away as I’m having now. I know it’s all related. Trapped, suffocating, seeing Alexi as the bad guy since I woke

up. It’s a mental breakdown of epic proportions fuelled by a claustrophobic response to waking up married.

“Mrs Carrero has a nice ring to it. Mrs Camilla Carrero, the wifey!” He repeats himself loudly, obviously in the full throes of amusing himself and as we make our way past nosey arseholes milling around and out to the limo, that’s waiting, I just give in completely. I stop fighting and go limp like I did anytime I knew the outcome would be worse if I fought it. There is nothing in me and my body is fatigued and achy.

“You know what, I don’t care. You’re a sadistic arse who will say it just to annoy me, so, go ahead. It doesn’t bother me. You’ll soon get bored.” I slump, losing all what’s left of my dwindling energy and fight. Too restricted to move, too weak to ever be a match for him.

Defeated. Experience has taught me I’m never a match for who he can be.

“I doubt it.” He shakes me to rile me up some more and laughs quietly when I try to knee him in the chest impulsively. Pretty hard to do in a restrictive figure-hugging navy shift dress.

“I hope your casino flops.” I’m being childish now, but I’m totally done. All I have left is verbal insults and closing down to behave like a spoiled baby.

“Well, seeing as you will be involved, and it’s also now going to be half your casino, then that’s a really silly wish. If it flops, I may just dump you in it to revive it like you did the club and visit you for the occasional weekend booty call.” He laughs again, genuine low, husky and natural.

“You wouldn’t bloody dare. I would cut your balls off for dumping me here and showing up for sex.” He at least ignites that green jealous psycho from deep down with that statement, and it’s a welcome break to the despair I was spiralling down into. A flicker of normal at the thought of him using me in some way.

“Better keep me sweet then, hadn’t you?”

“You know what, we are done talking. I can’t stand it when you’re like this, so I’m not talking to you anymore.” It didn’t last and my energy waivers with another Alexi torment. Still struggling from the effects of last night on top of everything and unable to fight my own body and mind when in chaos without energy.

“Can I have that in writing because that sounds like bliss to me?” He just sounds chipper and smug.

“Fuck you!”

“I knew it was too good to be true. Heads up beautiful, our car is awaiting your sexy ass.” He dumps me on my feet once more and ungraciously shoves me in an open car door under the wary eye of the doorman holding it. I’m pushed around easily, like a damp ragdoll, now all my resolve has fluttered away.