The Carrero Contract - Selling Your Soul (Mafia Romance) novel Chapter 114

We get there eventually, another tense silent car ride where everyone pretends the others are invisible, and Mico just seems to be texting furiously, ignoring the brutal standoff between us. The air is heavy and dense with it and I try my best to act nonchalant and stop myself from letting anger get the better of me. I have no energy left for this and I just want to go home. I’m deflated, body aching from a night of dancing and intoxication and now I think I’m suffering the trailing effects of shock.

All I want to do is lie down on the plane and block him out until I get there and can go to bed to get the hell away from him. I’m weary as the booze wears off and the night’s events take over my shattered mind to traumatise me with visions of half mangled heads.

Exhausted and waning. I don’t want to fight anymore. I just feel all used up and suddenly emotionally fragile. Nerves frayed and on the verge of bawling my eyes out. I guess it’s because I cannot shake that image out of my head, Alexi on a violent rampage that twists my stomach up in knots.

I honestly do not know if he thought he was protecting me, or if it was fuelled by jealousy, and I doubt he will clarify it either. He’s in closed down and don’t question my actions mode. I’m too wiped out to try and care about it and just stare at the passing scenery until the plane comes into view. It’s not pitch-black outside, as night gives way to morning light but it’s still dark enough to have street lamps on and headlights in use.

Mico is just depositing us on the flight, then leaving to go back to do exactly what he said he would. Make this all go away and smooth over the family’s questions of where we are, while cleaning up his cousin’s catastrophic mess.

It doesn’t take long to get to the airfield and I don’t wait for Alexi to open my door as we pull up beside the jet on the private runway. I get out, taking my bag silently, and head straight for the stairs that are sitting down waiting for us as an air hostess runs to grab it.

‘I can manage,’ I state hoarsely, dismissing her with a hand swipe, pushing past her and head in to march down the aisle and sit in the first row that has a table for leg room. Head closed off; eyes on task and refusing to let my bubbling cesspool of strangled emotions get to me for the next few hours. I’m going to sleep, sober up and just try to get back to New York without killing him. Only way to do that is by complete avoidance altogether. I have so much anger still aimed his way that it’s better if he just keeps the hell out of my way. My insides are in turmoil and it’s not just from alcohol come down.

Alexi follows and when he gets near me I plonk my bag on the seat beside me, so he knows to leave me be, and turn my face away so there’s no eye contact whatsoever. He doesn’t stop, just walks past me silently, no hesitation and goes to sit up the back instead. Throwing himself in a seat heavily and chucks his bag and jacket on the table in front of him before pulling his phone out. I glare back at him over the top of the seats before I sit down having watched him walk back there, and turn to face the front once more.

Three hours of silence will do me just fine. He can stay back there for all I care and if he comes near me I will gouge his fucking eyes out.

* * *

I must have fallen asleep on the flight pretty quickly, a combo of booze and that it’s the early hours of the morning, as the first thing I know is a warm hand touches my arm, startling me awake in disorientation and I jump in reaction. Heart and lungs trying to leap out of my body and then slump back inwards to send my nerves haywire.

‘We’re here, get up.’ Alexi is standing over me, voice husky from tiredness, lacking venom and much softer eyes than hours ago are eating into me. He looks fed up and completely devoid of any signs of a hangover or even wrinkles from a long flight. He is leaning in, so I feel instantly claustrophobic and I shove his hand off me angrily. Chest resembling a war drum with the fright he gave me.

‘Don’t touch me.’ I’m still fuming, even though I just woke up and take a minute to grasp at my surroundings and get my bearings. He sighs heavily and moves back to let me out as I get up, disorientated, and storm past first to get off the plane before him. No mood for another him and me spat.

I’m groggy, tired and unsteady on my feet, but I am acting like a fierce little kitty cat and ready to kick him in the face should he give me shit on the ride home. I was dreaming about crazy things and it’s not made for the best of moods at all. My head and body are clammy and achy from an impending hangover, and having a short three-hour nap has left me feeling so out of whack. I think I might even still be drunk and my hands are trembling crazily.

I shiver as the night air hits me and realise it’s past dawn and achingly bright out. I have no concept of time and the noises of early morning and crisp air slap me to my senses.

Alexi strays behind me at a distance, still quiet and being sensible enough to leave me alone as I get in the car that is waiting for us—A black, sinister, mafia standard, four by four with a familiar driver from his club. I make sure I am in before he is and move across, so he’s nowhere near me when he appears at the same side after me. I immediately turn my face to the window aware that he’s carrying my bag as I stupidly forgot to lift it and curse myself irritably. He hands it off along with his to the man holding the door as he gets in, and both of us just settle into the leather seats to stare out of opposite windows.

Tension thick like smog and the air crackling with electricity that I can even feel on my tongue as it tingles. I expected some sort of Alexi backlash by now, some demonic rage or punishment at how I have behaved towards him, but he’s just sat simmering and acting like I’m not even here. This is getting to be a habit for him of late. Letting my behaviour slide, no matter how volcanic I get with him.

Not that I care

I’m blanking his presence too and I hope to God it stays this way. Last thing I need when feeling surreal and sleep deprived is an all-out screaming match with Satan.

His phone beeps and he pulls it out to deal with whoever is contacting him, nose down as he reads the illuminated screen in the now dark interior. All his vehicles have heavily tinted windows so it makes it feel like we are in a box or a roomy coffin. This one has a screen between us, and the driver slides it up slowly as the engine starts. I guess they can also feel the hostile vibes between us and are getting out of the firing line.

Alexi presses his phone screen and slides it to his ear as we set off, moving down in his seat to adjust his sitting position more casually, untypically lounging which showcases how tired he is; while I sit stiff and upright and straight as a board. I cannot conceal how much I don’t want to be in a vehicle with him. It’s written all over me for anyone to see.

‘We just landed. She’s not dead, no. You will be happy to know she did the smart thing and slept the whole way home.’ I feel his eyes on me and turn with a nasty scowl, meeting that smug prick expression of his. A tingle of crackle between us as fury meets arsehole and eyes lock in another silent battle of wills. Both of us glare before I turn my nose back to the scenery, relenting, and try to blank him out. I’m guessing it’s Mico and he was worried Alexi had strangled and disposed of me on the flight home. My phone is buried in my bag and probably dead, so if he tried it maybe he was genuinely scared for my life—Even though I am not.

If Alexi wouldn’t even let me shoot myself, then I doubt he’s going to try and do away with me, even in anger.

‘How bad is it?’ He sounds sober and solemn for a second, a touch of something huskier and mellow to the tone, and I wonder if it’s a hint of regret. My ears prick up at that and I listen despite myself, straining to hear the voice on the other end but there’s nothing. It’s too muffled by Alexi’s ear and Mico isn’t naturally a loud talker either. I wonder if he’s asking about the state of his victim or the likelihood of this event coming back to bite him in the arse. I hope it does, big time. It’s what he deserves for attacking that poor defenceless man.

I feel his eyes sweep me on me again, like a sixth sense that knows when he’s looking at me, and just tuck my face around and lean my head on the rest to try and completely blank him; Nose almost to the side window and neck in an awkward angle that isn’t the comfiest. I’m still reeling from the waves of exhaustion sweeping my body brutally and will this journey to be as short as possible.

He slides back into the car quickly, leaving me gawping at him from the street while one of the men hauls my bag out of the boot and throws me a shady look. Probably wondering why I am questioning the boss, and with attitude, because it would be certain punishment for one of his lowly goons.

‘This sociopath is fucking off for a few days. I have other people to deal with; ones who don’t want to poison my coffee. Get the club open by Friday; I’m sick of it losing money. Do your job, get MY club open, and do it pronto.’ Alexi sounds like him of old. No expression in his voice, no emotion or anything. Just that cold bossy indifference I loathe with a passion and he goes to pull his door shut, but I stop it mid swing. Instantly aggravated by him and the fact he’s leaving me here.

‘OUR fucking club and it will be ready by Friday, don’t worry about that. Don’t bother coming back for opening night, I’m sure I can handle it alone and you will only lower the tone.’ I spit at him, tears circling in my throat which are beyond ridiculous, and I don’t get why I am suddenly angry with him because he’s doing the decent thing for once and giving me space. I willed him to fuck off the whole way home and now he’s doing it I’m majorly upset with him … Irrationally so. I don’t even know what the hell is going on in my own body and brain sometimes.

Alexi just looks grim at both my tone and my words.

‘I’ll be here. Don’t want you being left alone with all those rich men looking for company. I know how easily you give in to temptation.’ His anger stirs up from the depths in that biting response, and our eyes meet as temperatures soar again. Always easy to goad each other into a fiery rage. I have never known a man who can send me into a swirl of moods like a PMS’ing teen with bad hormone control.

‘Fuck off, Alexi. Bagging a rich man has never been my goal in life. If it was I would have never stopped you tonight. I would be nakedly fucking you half to heaven in that hotel right now.’ I point out with my nose in the air and hands on my hips—full-on bitch sass.

‘That was a moment of drunken stupid—forgot who you were for a second—don’t worry it won’t happen again!’ He too adopts that sarcastic hatred, riling me further.

‘Yeah, figures. Like I would want a repeat of the most unmemorable sex I have ever had in my life.’ I spit at him in bitter retaliation, scathed by his remark and shut the door on him instead, slamming it hard before he can retort and spin on my heel to storm to the entrance stairs of the club. Tears bite at me and that heavy thick lump in my throat threatens to choke me.

I don’t wait around to see if he has anything to say on the matter, holding back my emotional stupidity and that sense of extreme loneliness that hits me hard in the gut as I make my way up the steps quickly. I’m flanked by the two men, who walk behind me and usher me inside safely.

It’s early morning, birds singing in the sunny dawn light, and yet I feel like an icy grip has taken hold of my heart as I enter the near pitch-black club. Every part of me that was desperate to get here falls by the wayside in a sense of deflated disappointment now I am here. I wonder why I was so eager to get back to this.

It feels empty and hostile, devoid of any feeling of coming home and warmth, even though it’s exactly as it was twelve hours ago.