The Carrero Contract - Selling Your Soul (Mafia Romance)

The conviction in his voice, the gentle way he strokes his thumb over mine and pulls me to his chest to lean his nose against my
temple, stirs a belief in me deep down that this is a genuine apology, for all of it. Alexi really does regret the past between us and
for the first time, without doubt, question or niggles, I truly believe him.
We have hit a crossroad and I need to choose a path. I can either dwell and continue to find fault and put hurdles in his way, or I
can take his hand and see where this takes us. I’m so tired of living in the shadows and misery. I have a longing to walk into the
light and maybe my master of darkness will be the one to lead me there.
“No point dwelling anymore. The past will only drag you backwards.” I deflect the tender moment and push him away gently to
give myself breathing space. Hating the route of our conversation and stare at the fire instead. Hating myself for being so
conflicted and hot and cold with him, even if I cannot help it. Not knowing how to feel or how to be with him from one minute to
the next is fucking me up. Trust will not be easy to gain, and my head will keep throwing a spanner in the works. I just need to
take it as it comes, roll with the punches and trust my gut.
The low, flickering orange and yellow and the mesmerising dance of the flames instil peace as I try to cleanse myself of the
erratic emotions building inside me. Trying to find something steady and stable to pin my attention on for just a few minutes while
I pull myself together.
“You haven’t said much about his death, about what I did to him. Does it scare you? Does what I did to him change how you see
me?” Alexi seems a lot less confident, his voice lower, softer, and it brings my attention back to him. I regard him for what feels
like an eternity, turning this over in my mind before I shake my head and shrug, before answering.
What do I really feel? I guess if I’m honest, then not very much. A monster is dead; the world is a better place without him.
“I don’t know Alexi. Am I repulsed by knowing you tortured an abuser who brought pain to so many like me? No. He had it
coming, and karma brought you to his shores. I knew who you were before I even met you. I know you have capabilities that
most would be terrified of. I’m not. Am I scared because you took his life? No. I watched you take a man’s life once before and
that scared me, but only because you didn’t seem to react to what you did. I didn’t know if I was next for having seen it. You were
switched off emotionally, and I didn’t think I had any value to you back then.”
He wants honesty, so I’m giving it to him. Start as I mean to go on. No more lies between us.
“Even detached at what I was doing, I could never switch off my feelings for you. It’s part of the reason I lost my shit with you so
easily. I would never physically hurt you like that.” He interjects, but I sigh it away.

“To me, you are someone who physically hurt me, more than once. Maybe not in the sense of hitting me or forcing me into
something like Rick did, but you used things against me that did way more damage. I’m scared of what you could to me, but I’m
not scared of the fact you’re a killer. It comes with the job and I know you are probably as numb to it as I am with the shit I
endured in my life. I understand the psychology of learning to normalise abhorrent things, Alexi. It’s one thing I actually share
with you to an extent.”
Oh, boy, do I know about becoming an acceptor of the seedy in a bid to live on through it.
“I don’t want you to be afraid of me. I didn’t know the effect I would have on you—I swear. I thought it was lies and manipulation,
and I was showing you it had no effect. I didn’t think there was truth in what you told me.”
“I don’t have many triggers, but Rick left his mark on me, and I’m still trying to find the way to overcome the last traces of him.”
I squeeze his hand, wanting him to stop explaining. I get it. I know why and I understand it deep down. Looking backwards, over
the past few hours, has opened my eyes to so much that happened between us.
“I know. I didn’t exactly help.”
Alexi needs to stop twisting himself with guilt over this if we are to move past it. I believe him. He’s sorry, truly.
“What did you do to him?” I ask in afterthought, becoming a little detached and numb again and this whole scenario seeming
more like a dream as adrenaline fades and I suffer the after-effects of a comedown. Mentally exhausted by it already.
I hadn’t wanted to know before but sitting here with Alexi being so open to honesty, there’s a part of me that does want to know.
An idea of what my brutal abuser suffered before his demise. Maybe it will give me the closure I have sought my whole life.
Knowing he got what he deserved in the end and experienced a tiny fraction of my suffering.
“I’m not sure telling you is a good idea. I can be a sick fuck. I know this; I don’t want you to be even more afraid of me than you
already are. I’m trying to prove that I can be someone else for you.” Alexi looks uncomfortable once again and glances to his
right to avoid me. Face forming a frown and I can feel the nervous energy all around us. He’s worried that I’ll only see the actions
of a deranged monster and not the reasons he did them.
I’m past that now. I’m not his mother.
“You tortured him?” I push gently, dismissing his reasons for not being detailed and Alexi nods without looking back at me.
“Did he die from that or ...?”

I want to know. I want him to tell me and normalise this between us as an insignificant conversation that puts it to bed and gives
him no reason to think I will dwell on it after tonight. I don’t want him to carry doubt that it’s affected how I see him.
“I put a bullet in his head. I was wasting time there when I should have been here looking for you. I ended it because I had better
things to do. My priority was continuing to look for the woman I sent running. Does that sound like a sane person?” Alexi sinks a
little and I guess he hates that he just walked himself into this conversation with me and is killing his chances of proving he can
be what I need.
This time I slide my arms around his neck impulsively and come level with him, moving myself to sit straddling him, he looks me
dead in the eye, nose to nose once more. Close and personal.
“I knew you were crazy before I even met you. It’s part of why I had the major hots for you the first time we did meet. Guess I’m
not sane either when you look at it like that.” I smile softly and lean in to kiss him gently. Wanting so badly to take that look of
utter rejection from his face. All I keep thinking about is how his mother pushed him away for being this person, and even though
I know it’s not normal to love a killer, I want to comfort him so badly.
He killed for me, twice.
Not because of blood lust, but to protect the woman he claims to love. Even if it included torture and terrifying acts of cruelty. I
don’t care.
It’s not exactly a romance worth shouting from the rooftops, but for a man like him, it’s a sign he gives a shit about me. It’s his
way of loving and protecting and giving his all. As screwed up as he is, he felt outraged for what Rick did and exacted
punishment befitting the crime.
If Alexi didn’t care then he wouldn’t have done it that way, he wouldn’t have killed him at all.
Maybe I am as screwed up as he is because I understand it and I love him for it.
“I kill people, Cam, and sometimes, I don’t feel anything about it. Remorse is not always a given when I feel it’s justified.”
I think he is trying to shock me with an honest reply and a neutral tone. Seeing if I will up and run, but I stay put. Testing me to be
sure I accept this is who he is.
“So do soldiers, protecting their country. No one hates them for doing what is necessary. You do what you were raised to do and
what is needed to keep your empire safe. To keep me safe.” I point out, confirming he has nothing to fear and pull his hands to
my waist, encouraging him to pull me closer.

“Could you fall in love someone like me, knowing what you do?” Alexi slides his hands up my back, so he holds me as near as
humanly possible, nose and foreheads firmly together. Grey eyes boring into mine, dissecting my soul. Searching for the truths
he so desperately needs.
“I already did. Even when I was terrified of you.” I point out, voice dropping to a whisper befitting our proximity, a softness to
match the feelings rising inside me. Alexi leans to the side a little, a head tilt that puts our noses side by side so he can get
nearer my mouth and kisses me softly, needy. A gentle, chaste meeting of soft warm skin that makes my heart erupt in a million
little flutters.
Pulling back, he slides his fingers under my hair, cradling my face on both sides and draws my eyes to his as he straightens back
up.
“If I could go back to that night when you said those words to me, I would change everything and undo all the mistakes I made.
Those three words are my goal, but to deserve them this time and to never hurt you again. I would die for you, I will kill for you
and I will rip this city apart if you needed it, London. I promise you I won’t let you go a second time; I know what I have to lose
this time.”
Alexi’s words pull tears from my eyes and my throat constricts painfully. There’s no hint of deviousness in the hoarse, raw way
he’s saying those words or the penetrating gaze he has stuck me with. It’s like he wants to climb inside me and make me believe
him so badly, and all I can do is nod at him.
“I’ll give you the chance to make me believe. Don’t fuck it up.”
“I won’t.” Alexi silences my tears with another kiss, fuelled by longing and raw passion and I give in to it hungrily, wrapping my
arms and legs around him and losing myself in the most dangerous place in the world.
In Alexi Carrero.
Breaking away to catch my breath, I find myself back against his forehead, eyes re-joining. I trace his features with gentle fingers
and admire the beauty of my devil man.
“You need to relax, drink some wine and trust that I won’t cross your boundaries. You are in control of what happens between
us.” He runs his fingers up my spine and tangles them in the tips of my hair, brushing through and then repeating the hypnotic
touch over again.

“What if I add touching to that list?” I whisper quietly and he pauses what he is doing. Stilling with a finger wrapped in my hair, his
eyes straying from my mouth to my eyes with that unreadable expression.
“Then I’ll respect that and not touch you. Is that what you want?” His tone so soft and inviting and I impulsively shake my head. If
I say yes, he will stop what he’s doing, and I don’t want him to stop touching me. I need his touch, more than I ever thought I
would.
Alexi has a way of grounding me and making me feel safe, despite everything, and right now he is calming my nerves with such
a simple act of tenderness I would never in a million years have connected to him. Confessing his feelings for me enabled him to
shake off the last traces of the mask he was hiding behind with me. He has shed the act to show me what he can be if I let him.
I don’t want to go backwards and give that up now.
“Tell me what you need, so I’m not riding blind all the time. I’m not good at reading you and I don’t have a high success rate in
knowing what you’re thinking.” He pleads, so desperate to make sure he doesn’t ruin this.
“I don’t know. Time. Honestly, I have no clue. I don’t trust people, so I have never had to think about how to let someone in.” I feel
stupid for saying it out loud, and the realisation of just how lonely my existence has been hits me in the face. Before him, I had
no one, and without him, I return to a loneliness that’s soul destroying. He really is my world.
I don’t know what I did to deserve him, but I’m not about to walk away from the chance of being his world too.
“You trust Mico and Jackson, don’t you?” He raises a brow at me questioningly, like he suddenly realises how hard trusting is for
me, and I hesitate.
My instinct is to say no, but I honestly have no idea. I wouldn’t divulge my deepest secrets to them the way I have blurted out to
Alexi in the past, but I know neither of them would deliberately bring me harm. Trust is such a loaded word.
“I don’t know,” I answer honestly because I truly don’t.
I yawn and stretch out on the bed lazily, stirring slowly like a cosy kitten waking after a peaceful slumber. A huge sense of
weightless contentment waving over me like a warm blanket in the moments before I fully connect with consciousness. I jump
when a large, hot hand gently grips my hip in reaction to my wriggling and scares me half to death. Rousing me fully as I’m not
used to waking up beside someone, ever. My heart skips a beat for a second and sends me into instant sweats and floundering
panic, deep inside. It all comes back to me in a rush and I blink at an unfamiliar ceiling and a rotating fan that’s too close for
comfort. Blurry vision clearing to bring my surroundings to me.

Hazy in my sudden awakening, mouth a similar consistency to a furry carpet and my head aches with the after-effects of far too
much alcohol and a night of walking myself to death. I have a monster hangover, head pounding me into oblivion as those first
few seconds of happy waking ebb away into reality, and now I remember whose fault it is and who is lying beside me, breathing
so deeply in his own comatose state of slumber.
The devil himself, who kept plying me with booze and egging me on. He is the reason I have woken to suffer.
I’m lying in bed with Alexi and I take stock of that for a moment, forgetting my miserable state and stare at his face just inches
from mine and hold my breath for a second. Absorbing the moment. Connecting the dots and seeing the importance of this
moment.
We have never woken in the same bed and it’s strange yet warming in a way. He always gets up and leaves long before I wake,
and the fact he is still here, touching me tenderly, holds me still and makes me analyse how it feels.
What it means.
Alexi chose to be here till morning, brought me to a place I can’t leave without his say so, and shared a bed without running off
before dawn. Another truth to his words.
Sure, it’s a control freak manoeuvre to keep me captive in his company overnight, but it’s an Alexi move at romance. I wouldn’t
expect anything else from him, to be fair.
He really wanted to wake up with me, like he said. So, he made it happen, whether I agreed or not.
I don’t even feel surprised at that.
It feels nice. There are no other words to describe this sense of quiet contentment that waking in his arm gives me or the intimate
way we are facing each other in the bed. Connected, close enough to share air although with enough space not to be
overwhelmed, or for me to feel caged in by him. I’m drawn to watch him. The rise of that wide chest and fall as he sleeps on
under my gaze. Unaware, trusting, so powerful as a male physique but he looks so young and vulnerable like this. To lie beside
me, completely oblivious to me watching him. It’s a show of trust. He let me get beside him when he is at his most vulnerable.
Face peaceful and blank, but so youthful and pretty.
I guess all those times I never really analysed why Alexi was a fuck and run kind of guy. I just assumed it was intimacy issues.
Keeping women at arm’s length and never too close and cosy. Now I think about it, it’s self-protection in other ways too. He has a
lot of enemies and being asleep beside some strange girl he just screwed, leaves him open and unprotected. I know there are

women in his world who are used to get close to a man and be part of their demise. Women kill too ... or let men in that can. He
knows I’m no threat at all.
I have never seen him sleep. Not to my recollection and for a moment I see someone entirely different. Peaceful, gorgeous and
has an aura of something that draws you close and urges you to wrap your arms around him. Something boyish and needy,
aching for love.
No masks, no controlled manner because he is asleep. My heart constricts with so much feeling for this man that I scare myself
senseless with the sheer overwhelming depth of it and move away again, edging backwards to break his spell over me. Even
unconscious he has a power like no other.
A deep pit of fear grips me with the immense way he takes my breath away and rips the rug out from under me while doing
nothing at all. I stop breathing in his presence, controlled by my heart beating only for him. He never lost his hold over me, he
only made it grow stronger, and I’m so stuck in his own brand of quicksand and sinking by the minute. Just looking at him
reminds me that he has the power to make me want to stop surviving entirely.
He’s still clothed, with his arm draped across me possessively, while still maintaining a distance between us that allows me some
breathing space. We are on the mattress of his loft bed, which is surprisingly comfortable for being on the floor.
The room up here has a strange safe quality to it, tucked in the rafters with minimum furniture and belongings up here. The open
metal balcony gives it an airy feel despite being a tiny space and I feel a million miles away from anything that is Carrero, or part
of his world but I think that was always his intention.
To take me from all I know of him and have formed in my mind about him. To bring me to a neutral place, dressed differently, cut
off from anything else that is our norm. Disconnected from Alexi Carrero and his empire and showing me the real him—Lexi. He
can be so much more than I ever gave him credit for. This place, last night, it was all proof of that.
He’s clever, I always knew that, but now I think about the last twelve hours, I see he really thought about the best way to lower
my guard and convince me he could be something more. It worked, judging by the way I’m staring at him like a lovesick fool. He
completely changed me from a combative ‘No’ to a hopeful ‘I want to see where this goes’ all in the space of one date.
Devil of a man, that he is.
I’m still not really feeling this place is suited to the man I know but I’m understanding some of the connections. It’s in the fine
details of his belongings and personal choices within these walls and I no longer doubt that it belongs to him. His secret bolthole

and a place so special it means something to have brought me with him. I believe him when he says he allows only a few he
trusts to come here.
Last night I poured over his book collection while teasing him relentlessly and realised the authors reflect the ones he has lying in
the apartment over the club. He has every Stephen King book in existence for a start. Duplicates here. The eclectic collections
have hints of things I know he likes, and the CD variety is the same music he plays in the office. Alexi knows what he likes and is
consistent. He doesn’t deviate. Little clues to remind me, none of this is a lie.
I roll away from him gently, slowly and work myself to the edge of the mattress where I can step off the bed easily, which is
practically on the floor. I stretch my legs out before attempting to get up and inch out of his grasp, so I don’t wake him up. His
hand finally slides from my body as I get further away, out of his natural reach, but he just continues to inhale and exhale silently,
no movement from him at all when I get free.
He looks beautifully peaceful, in all his handsome glory. That face sporting dark shadows of impending stubble. Ruffled hair, jet
black and gloriously sexy when it’s not in its usual styled and groomed manner. Casual and rough around the edges, creased
and rumpled. It suits him more than I thought it would. Makes him approachable, softer somehow. Like he is an actual human
and not some cool, tailored control freak who lives in sharp suits and sinister scowls.
He is dressed in a tee and jeans, although he’s barefoot, and it’s a nice outfit for showing off toned arms, a lot of black ink from
his tattoos and the perfect profile of that face. Alexi looks underwear model worthy like this, laid in crumpled white sheets, one
arm bent and propped under his head to support it. Smoking hot if I do say so myself. I could stare at him all day and never get
bored of that sexy man.
I tear my eyes away to sit up. I steady myself on the mattress and force myself upright properly, despite the woozy wave of
nausea and dizziness which hits me full force as I do so. Head pounding intensely and room swimming as I try to hold myself
together. I think I might still be a tad drunk and already that washing machine stomach is making me regret letting myself get so
wasted with him. I completely let myself go last night, no concerns about getting so drunk I could barely function.
My gut had convinced me I should trust him to take care of me. I mean, it’s what he does after all. He is very good at it when he
isn’t being a violent psycho.
We had our Chinese food and went to that little movie house he told me about, merry and relaxed with all our heavy topics of
conversation laid to rest. Food was a welcome break to the emotional stuff, and we ended up talking about the vaguest things. I
never just sat and talked to him for the sake of doing so before, and it was weird how easily we could talk about nothing and
everything, and I forgot myself and just chilled in his sparkling company. Seeing why the women in his family feel adoration for

him. He can be incredibly easy to spend time with when he isn’t trying to manipulate the scenario or teach you a lesson. He’s
easy going when he has nothing to battle you over.
We drank both bottles of wine to loosen up while we ate and a couple more that we picked up on the walk back from seeing ‘The
Godfather’. It was nice. Mellow and comfortable and then we came back here, played music, teased each other mercilessly and
talked about the film. We talked more about random, trivial crap, like if Mico will ever bite the bullet and marry Mandy, and
Jackson’s birthday coming up, what we wanted to surprise him with for that. Normal people stuff, like every day couples do, and
we got a little drunk in the process.
Okay, we got more than a little. We got so drunk he had to carry me up the stairs, in fits of giggles, and I finally got to hear him
laugh properly. Alexi’s genuine, non-guarded and having a good time laugh. The most perfect sound in the world. Dimples in all
their glory.
He had to haul me over his shoulder when I almost fell down the stairs backwards before we finally got on the bed up here with a
DVD on his tv until we fell asleep. A drunken stupor on my part, with my head on his chest, watching something full of action,
shooting and sexy movie stars who jumped out of helicopters.
It was surreal.
Like being out with a regular guy, getting drunk and a lot of kissing. Alexi pulled me over at every opportunity on the walk to and
from the theatre to get his tongue in my mouth and the drunker we got, the riskier those kisses got. I swear I was not the one
stopping sex and I cringe at the memory of how stupid I was.
I was a wanton whore who got her hands down his pants in the stairwell and had myself a good grope of his obvious erection.
Feeling very powerful that I could make him groan, yet so drunk I lost all my inhibitions and just wanted a release to how horny
he was making me. I remember every detail of rubbing myself up against him, plying him with my full-on seductive moves and
flirty behaviours. I’m a seasoned pro and he knew loud and clear I wanted sex. I was not about to stop it either.
Alexi, however, was a perfect gentleman who kept his hands above waist level and kept things PG-ish, for him anyway,
surprisingly. He pulled my wandering fingers out of his jeans and threatened to tie me to the bed if I didn’t stop torturing him.
Pretty sure he was hoping to follow through on that threat, knowing his love of bondage.
He didn’t let it develop though, no matter how hard I pushed. Even when I got huffy and told him to stop being a killjoy and screw
me already, he turned me down flat and reminded me that sober Camilla would cut off his balls if she woke up naked next to him.

He had a point and I would have if I woke up with the memory of him taking advantage of me in my altered state of mind.
Another show that I can trust him if I set a boundary and am not able to genuinely remove it. He respected me, in a way I never
thought someone like him would.
I remember the basics, but I’ve lost a lot of the finer details of the night in a blurry merry haze of being bladdered drunk, although
I do remember feeling safe. The whole time, I just felt wrapped in a bubble of secure warmth, where nothing could ever get at
me. Stuck to his side as though I knew he wouldn’t let anything happen to me again. I never knew that kind of security, before
him. No one in my life ever took care of me or kept me safe. Not even my mother.
Alexi was looking after me though, and I let go for once and trusted someone to watch my back. I don’t remember ever getting
that drunk in the company of anyone without any niggles of fear, so it amazes me to think I allowed myself to become that
vulnerable while with him. Miami was a start, last night I truly loosened up. I guess there is hope for us after all.