The Carrero Contract - Selling Your Soul (Mafia Romance)

Chapter 17: 17

What’s done is done and I have learned to never linger on this kind of shit or else it just fucks your head up. Get over it and move on, look forward and keep going, it’s worked for me so far and I won’t fix what isn’t broken.

Alexi falls into companionable silence as we move and it’s odd that I don’t feel awkward about the lull in conversation. He does silence very well when he wants too, and I fall into step with his easy stride. Sort of glad of it really. I don’t feel like chit-chat.

It’s even weirder walking arm in arm with him so cosily and close. My naked skin on his smooth expensive tuxedo covered arm, walking out like any normal couple who have gone out on a date. I’m held tight to his body and trying to conceal my face and worst parts of my torn dress by using him as a shield. I feel surreal and lower my face as we pass suited staff wandering around in the main lower floor when we leave the corridor.

‘‘I was wrong … about the hair. You look better when it’s down.’’ He adds in afterthought and I blink at him with more than a stirring of suspicion.

‘‘Why are you being so nice? It’s making me nervous! You don’t do nice so what do you want?’’ I glance at him sideways and catch a tiny flicker of tightening muscle in his jaw. It’s either a thwarted smile or an irritated grimace.

Who can tell with him?

‘’I just got you roughed up because I wanted you to play a safe bet for me. I happen to feel responsible for the way it played out and like I said, I have no patience for men who use force on weaker opponents. This wasn’t part of the plan and I detest when I don’t predict an avoidable outcome.’’ Irony as I’m sure he pounds down weaker men all the time.

Who knew Carrero would be a soft touch for women under all that cold indifference. I still don’t know what to think about his little revelation; this doesn’t fit the image he exudes daily. It certainly doesn’t fit the way he behaves towards any of us; controlling bastard with zero tolerance to disobedience. He talks down to his little bedroom buddies anytime he brings one upstairs, and God knows what he does to them when he gets them in his bed; contradiction entirely.

‘’It’s not my first beating. I am practically immune to men slapping me around and exerting their dominance. I’ll heal, I always do.’’ I say it impulsively. That mouth of mine working faster than my brain, and he halts; turns to me with a hint of darkness in his eye.

‘‘That’s not admirable, or right in any way. You belong to me now. No one will ever touch you that way again.’’ That soft tone he used in the bathroom, and I am rendered mute as the palest grey eyes lock on mine in some weird silent communication I have no way of deciphering. Carrero is a complete enigma to me, and I am totally out of my depth every time we connect. ‘Complex’ should have a picture of him next to it in the dictionary.

He leans in and strokes my hair from my face, runs a thumb over my swollen bruise forming lips so softly it makes my body tingle. Caught in complete surprise and glued to that flawless face and not sure how to feel at all as my insides dissolve into water and trickle away. I am powerless at this moment and can’t catch a breath.

‘‘I don’t ever want to see you marked like this again.’’ My heart literally stops beating, and he seems to flinch at his own words, stepping back suddenly, almost as soon as they are out of his mouth and completely lets me go.

It’s like watching a curtain fall fast and that gentle glimpse of something shuts hard and fast as his face smooths over. He seems momentarily at a loss himself and I guess he didn’t mean to say it at all.

‘‘Let’s go back to the club; you should go to bed with pain relief. Put some ice on for swelling.’’ He seems reluctant to get too close again and I for one am a little glad. Whatever that was right there, it made me afraid. Uncomfortable with affections and in no way in hell do I want to explore anything that makes my body react like he does.

I swore at fifteen I would never let a man into my heart or my head the way my mother did, and I am not about to let someone like him be the first. I see what happens when women let their emotions overrule logic, and they become victims of their own heart. Well, mine died a long time ago and I’m sure that not even electric shock therapy could restart the beating of my cold dead organ. I’m an empty shell of soulless unfeeling and I have no desire to root around in the depths and darkness of my lost soul to find a little burning ember of giving a shit.

I’m incapable of feeling. Giving a toss about anyone but yourself is how you get yourself fucked up in a fate worse than death. It’s how you let people both hurt and disappoint you. I have no desire to ever try it.

I wake up with a pounding headache and a sore face and slide out of bed with a groan. Body like a tonne weight and very aware that I have had a physical assault. It’s still dark, and glancing at my bedside clock tells me it’s four a.m. and I sigh heavily.

We came home, and I did exactly what I was told and came to bed, not really feeling like being around Carrero after that weird moment between us, even if bed was not something I wanted to do. I can handle him being his usually obtuse and stubborn arsehole self but the softer glimpse threw me totally. I don’t know how to deal with him being different, so I avoided him and decided to sleep this off.

Except I can’t; I need aspirin and a drink to clear the horrid metallic bloody taste from my mouth. I feel like I have the king of hangovers and even my body hurts in places that Demagio didn’t even touch.

I pad out into the apartment in nothing but my nightdress, pulling my hair up messily into a bun on top of my head with one hand as I wander through, and stop dead in my tracks when I see him.

He’s sitting on the couch, lounging casually with a lot of papers across the table in front of him and a laptop open on top of it all. He’s still in his dress shirt and trousers but his normally immaculate hair looks a little scruffier as though he’s been running his hands through it.

I swallow and take a deep breath and continue on my way to the kitchen, curving around the sunken island seating area in hopes he won’t notice me. I can’t be arsed with a lecture on my skimpy attire and breaking one of his cardinal rules of undressing when he is around.

‘’You’re up early.’’ That damned voice makes me jump and I throw him back a glance, dropping my hair to fall back around my shoulders like a fluffy red cloud. He’s obviously in a chatty mood and I have no energy for it. I feel battle worn and vulnerable.

‘‘I don’t sleep much, always wake up randomly, and I need an aspirin.’’ I start rummaging the drawers until I locate them and rifle in the refrigerator for a bottle of water to wash them down, suddenly aware that this has to be one of my most semi-transparent nightgowns, and I am not wearing any underwear. Guess he will just have to suck it up and deal with it for once. It’s not like I have body confidence issues anyway.

‘’That makes two of us. I can’t remember the last time I slept more than four hours in a night.’’ Alexi sounds tired and I glance back his way, noting that his normally subtle stubble is more prominent in the early hours of the day. It must grow fast, and I know he likes his early morning shaving routine, as I normally hear his razor going. Perks of co-habiting with him means I get to see him do normal mundane things like a mere human and it takes away that mystery a little bit. He’s just a normal man with normal habits and doesn’t come out of a factory with pre-perfected immaculateness.

‘‘Well, you do tend to keep yourself up with a little bit of activity most nights you stay here, maybe bypass that and you will have more time for sleep.’’ I flick my eyebrows at him and he smiles softly. Aware that every weekend without fail he stays over and always with a new bimbo in tow.

‘‘Doesn’t seem to make a difference to you.’’ He jibes back like a smart arse, reminding me of the sex ban he placed on me, and it just irritates my already tender feelings.

HA FUCKING HA!

‘’Some of us have things other than sexual partners that keep us awake.’’ I retort without thinking and curse myself out, I have this dumb need to overshare sometimes and I have no idea where it comes from. I told that stupid Sophie about my birth name and my past in a moment of weakness too. I’m my own worst enemy sometimes and you shouldn’t give people like Alexi any weapons or information he can turn around on you. Please check at N/ôvel(D)rama.Org.

Number one rule of survival—do not give away too much about yourself—EVER. Never show your weaknesses or ways that you can be hurt.

‘‘Such as …?’’ He leans back on the couch throwing his arm over as he turns to me and rests confidently, arm bent as it accentuates the open neck of his button-down and showcases the peeks of tattoo curling up from the depths and behind his ear from up the side of his neck. I always wondered how far and wide that black ink spread on his body and it still intrigues me. There is no denying that tattoos make most men sexier and Alexi doesn’t need the help. It does, however, add to the sinister look he has going on and that is not an entirely bad thing.

‘’Every woman has her nightmares I suppose. I’m no different to a million others.’’ I try and blow it off casually as I locate a glass and take a pill to help with the throbbing of my face. Turning my back to him as I refill with cold water and some ice from the dispenser. I jump when his body heat comes up beside me suddenly and he slides an empty glass on the counter, pulling over the bottle of gin laying there and

pours himself a new drink. ‘’You said you were used to being beaten … So is that what you dream about? Men who have hurt you in the past?’’ Probing Carrero on the prowl for Intel; Something he does a lot.

Nosey bastard.

I know better than to trust his probing questions.