The Carrero Contract - Selling Your Soul (Mafia Romance) novel Chapter 134

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.