The Carrero Contract - Selling Your Soul (Mafia Romance)

It was the gun. It spooked me, and maybe not because of where he’s going, but maybe just seeing it on him, being in the
apartment together—alone. Maybe I’m just triggered by memory and being an idiot; that panic inside of something being wrong
... was just memory perhaps. I still carry the burden of that night on my soul and this could just be that. Alexi and I, we have so
much history and I shouldn’t dismiss the effect it’s had on me and my sanity. Getting myself worked into hysteria and being
stupidly weak over something he has with him on a normal day, so why should I freak about him taking it out of an evening? It’s
part of his work uniform and not exactly unknown to be on him.
‘Are you okay?’ Jackson moves to follow me out but I raise my palm to him.
‘I’m calmer ... I’ll call him ... let him tell me himself I’m an idiot. Honestly, go back down, I’ll be okay once I pull myself together.’ I
smile, embarrassed at my display of womanly meltdowns now that my sane head is pushing through the chaos and returning all
bodily functions to a more even keel. I feel dishevelled, exhausted as the last ounces of being distraught starts to fade away. I
have to fix my face all over again; I bet I look a fright.
Jackson seems torn about coming in, but he does as I ask and moves back into the lift with a gentle look. I turn and leave him to
go back downstairs. I walk through the open door of the apartment I left sitting that way, and go off to find my phone, padding
across the apartment to get it from my charging dock by the mirror.
I’ll call him, and he can tell me himself that he has this under control ... that I’m an idiot. I’m pretty sure he will happily do so. I
just need to hear his voice; I don’t know why but I do. I’m so rattled and shaken that it’s all I am focusing on to bring me back to a
sane level.
I pick it up from the side unit and find his number I have saved under ‘Lord Arsehole’, still the name I use and dial it. It rings only
three times before he answers.
‘What is it, Cam?’ He sounds serene and normal, like nothing is amiss. Not even annoyed that I am calling him, even though he
just left minutes ago; that familiar husky low tone of the most heart-warming voice in the world. It gives me instant calm, and I
close my eyes to visualise his face—confident, unaffected and deadpan in that infuriating way of his. I wouldn’t change it for the
world.
‘Tell me nothing is going to happen to you tonight ... Promise me.’ I don’t hesitate, whispering it pleadingly as I cradle my phone
as close to my mouth as I can, somehow willing him closer. He sighs heavily. There is no point pretending I am calling for
anything else ... he knows I was a crazy mess when he left me here.

‘Do you think I would be where I am now if I didn’t always know what I was walking into ... how to play it? You have to have a
little faith in me, London. I know what I am doing, and I will see you when I get back. I promise.’ Alexi’s voice lowers, probably
because there are others in the car with him and I get a new wave of tears hitting me suddenly and choke as my throat closes a
little. This time it’s not for the same reason.
It’s the strange intimacy between us in this call; the almost tenderness in his tone after how he left me—the way he left me—the
kiss that halted my entire being for a moment. My body trembles at the memory but I push it away right now.
‘If you think there’s any reason, Alexi ...’ I start to warn him, to beg him to listen to sense if he should think anything is amiss, but
he cuts me off.
‘Trust Me,’ it’s all he utters, determined with its intent, and I wipe away a stray tear accepting defeat. Knowing this is pointless.
He’s stubborn. He’s an arse. He thinks he knows better and maybe he does. I am scared and I know it’s probably not as plain cut
as it seems, but a lot of things colliding with the appearance of his gun have obviously tipped me all out of whack. It’s the gun
from that night, it’s the only one he carries, and I fell apart at the sight of it. I need to think logically and stop letting emotion cloud
my judgement. I know better than that.
‘Maybe one day ... Just swear you are coming back to me.’ I need the reassurance from him. That part of me that knows I still
love him and what would happen if he was ever just gone. My whole life hangs in the balance of his survival.
I am pretty sure the next Carrero in line to his throne wouldn’t see my importance, or the club’s, and find a way to send me back
to the gutter I came from. Alexi is a lifeline that means more to me now than what he can give me. I need him in my life, whether
he’s good for me or not.
‘I have to ... Who else would drive you crazy and make your day worth living, huh? You need me to keep you out of trouble. You
have a knack for getting roughed up.’ He tries for humour and despite myself, I smile down the line at him, wiping another tear
and accepting that my heavy chest is no longer from fear, but from just him.
‘You’re a prick sometimes,’ I laugh softly, knowing what he says is true though, and I close my eyes one more time to just listen
to that voice. Still not completely convinced that he’s safe but it’s out of my hands and I need to have faith in his ability.
‘You’re a pain in my ass ... but I’ll always come home to you. I promise. Now get off the phone. I’m busy and my men are looking
at me like I’ve gone soft.’ He sounds more commanding and back to normal; Hints of sarcasm and mock, but not in a nasty way.
I smile, warming with the banter that is sometimes okay between us and let go all the worry that’s strangling me.

‘I think maybe you have,’ I jibe, but I know that’s not true. Alexi is still as he was. Still capable of bastard and sadistic, I’m just not
the focus of it anymore.
‘Only where you’re concerned; Go do your job ... it’s almost Showtime. Go make us some money and stop worrying over things
that are not your concern. It’s my problem, not yours.’ It’s a telling off I guess. A reminder I should trust him to do what he does,
he’s the boss for a reason, and even though I’m now calm and sane and no longer crying, I can’t shift the weight in my belly.
‘Aye, aye, captain. I shall not bother you with my female hysterics again.’ I mutter it defeated, knowing he’s right—one last sniff,
one last deep breath.
‘Good ... I’m not built for them. And you seem to have more than most.’ He laughs at that, a soft, gentle almost nothing laugh,
and puts the last band-aid on my stupid wounds. I shouldn’t be worried. He’s Alexi Carrero ... Kingpin of New York and this is his
domain. I’m a fool to have ever thought he didn’t have this in the bag. He’s a cocky, arrogant, self-loving arsehole for a reason.
‘Get off the phone, you wanker,’ I toss back at him, our banter returning genuinely and our tone evens out. All intimacy moving
away from intense and I do feel lighter.
‘Cam? Did you know your cell could do this?’
‘Do what?’ I ask innocently and wait patiently for some extra special amazing trick and realise the phone has gone completely
silent. I take it away from my face and look at the screen.
Fucking bastard hung up on me.
I rage at the nerve of him, caught between a laugh because it’s a cheeky arse move that is just a complete Alexi thing to do, and
annoyed that the insensitive prick would actually fucking hang up on me.
Just when I think he’s getting a little too Gino ... tosser does something like that.
Arsehole.
I text him impulsively, enraged that he’s such an insensitive moron and a complete dickhead at the most inappropriate times.
‘Sometimes I really don’t like you! London X’
I stick my nose in the air in a snooty mood, glad that I feel better from talking to him and less crazy scared that he’s riding off to
be executed, even if he has annoyed me. I feel dumb now I think about it. Riled, that, as per usual, he had to go and ruin

something nice with the plonk of a man he is.
‘I’m into that. And thanks ... For admitting you sometimes do. Now stop bothering me! X’
Prick.
I wander listlessly around the club, picking my nails, watching the floor without much interest. Angst is my new current mood, and
I am finding it hard to breath with the weight that has settled on my chest. The hours have been dragging so slowly it feels like
time has stopped, and I’m obsessively clock watching like a freak. Mind unable to stay with my task at hand.
‘Miss Camilla ... Camilla?’ Jackson is following me again and I look at him as though he has two heads, unsure why he is
repeating my name incessantly. He has been like a suffocating shadow all evening and I don’t normally get this irritated with him.
‘What?’ I snap, that feeling of inner turmoil making me cranky.
‘You’re pacing like a mindless bot ... maybe you should go have a break?’ Jackson has been very attentive to my anxious pacing
all night, overly aware of my sensitive mood and snappy tone with the staff.
I can’t help it—it’s now well after eleven and Alexi has not come back, not replied to any of my texts and not answered any of the
times I rang his phone. I’m obsessing over his safety and worrying myself sick over it. My insides are so strung out it feels like I
might throw up.
It’s a dinner! They usually never run majorly late, and he hasn’t contacted me to say he’s staying away, even though he doesn’t
really have to, but he should have come back by now. He said he was coming back.
He promised me!
I know I’m being ridiculous and maybe it’s a night of drinks and God knows what. It’s none of my business what he does outside
of these four walls ... or even in them sometimes. I just cannot shake the foreboding fear that my initial gut instinct was right, and
he knew there was something tonight that I should be worried about.
‘I’m fine ... I just need to go do something, then I’ll be back.’ I dismiss him coldly.
By something, I mean call him again, or Mico, because I’m edgy and tense and all I need is a little ‘we’re fine’ and I’ll calm down.
I have put off texting Mico because I felt stupid but now I just can’t stand it anymore. My phone is in the kitchen on charge and it
will take a minute to bite the bullet and do it. It could just be that Alexi has his phone on silent because of his dinner and doesn’t
know I have been trying.

‘Wait!’ Something crosses my mind as I go to walk away and I turn back to him.
‘How far is the reach on your wireless thingamajig?’ I point at his ear thing and motion at his chest where I know the other part
will be concealed.
‘Hundred yards or so ... out of Mico’s reach if that’s what you’re asking? I can try their channel but it won’t reach.’ He gives me
that knowing look and I exhale heavily—instantly disappointed. It must be obvious that my earlier upset is plaguing me once
more, and I blow out a long steady exhale to calm my trembling nerves.
‘I need to call him. Something’s wrong, I can feel it.’ I sound like some needy wife, and I am aware Jackson is giving the weird
eye as though I am one, but he just doesn’t get it.
My life, whether I like it or not, is completely tangled up with Alexi Carrero on so many levels; it’s not just about this club, this
income, this opportunity.
He makes me feel safe.
If it wasn’t for him I wouldn’t be here, I wouldn’t have the apartment upstairs or my standing in this club as part owner. If it wasn’t
for him I would still be on the streets, hauling arse and begging for scraps in the shitty direction my life was going in. If it wasn’t
for him I would have probably met my end at Tyler’s hands a long time ago and be another nameless face in the morgue, swept
under the title of ‘unknown victim of crime.’ If it wasn’t for Alexi I would just not have a life at all.
Alexi has made sure that my survival depends on him, and he somehow managed to solidify it by dragging my heart in too. I just
cannot imagine a life in which he doesn’t exist and the thought absolutely terrifies me. If he died ... I would die too.
We are weirdly connected, and as much as I hate the fact, I can admit it. Alexi changed me in irreversible ways, so that I can no
longer just go back to the street and pick up where I left off. Those four months were proof of that.
He broke me, picked out the worst parts of Camilla and turned them to ashes, but in her place, he rebuilt something else when
he gave me another chance. He shaped a woman who has no desire to ever go back to selling her body to survive. To live on
her wiles and manipulate and lie to everyone in her wake. To screw people over and always be looking behind her, over her
shoulder, for the last person she ripped off. To keep living alone with no ties to anyone; She was a despicable worthless deviant,
and she died with the part of me that Alexi ripped down ... she never came back with me to this place.
I want more! I want to be proud of what I do and have something to have pride in. I want the security of people around me who
care. I like my life now, even him sometimes, and I have no designs on manipulation or upper hand in any way. I have everything

I need, all I ever wanted as a child.
A place to belong—Safe and warm ... sheltered.
I want for nothing, and even when he is being a boorish prick, I have always known he would never let anyone hurt me.
In his own fucked up way, he has been trying this time, to make me feel valued and worthwhile; healing some of the wounds he
left on my heart. Even if he can’t actually say the words and make them sound like he means it, he has been showing me a
different side to him. I have seen it, even if I denied it at first. I may not be dumb enough to fall back into his claws, but I
appreciate the fact he has been trying to heal some of the things he did to me. I have seen his efforts even if I sometimes
mistrust them.
I pace away from Jackson, leave him watching me with an exasperated expression. He obviously isn’t having the same panic
over Alexi’s safety as I am and doesn’t get the depths of fear coursing through me.
I avoid people milling around and head out to the corridor, using my pass to get into the kitchen out of the way, glad to see it’s
empty.
I head straight for my phone, pull it off the charging dock and immediately swipe to Alexi’s number and hit dial, tensing my whole
body and holding my breath as I put it to my ear.
It rings out for what seems like an eternity then goes straight to his answerphone and I try again.
Two, three, four, five times in a row with mounting panic as each one trails off then goes to his voicemail. I take a heavy breath
and shake myself, instead pulling up Mico’s number and try him with a sense of hope and my fingers crossed.
I get the same result.