The Carrero Contract - Selling Your Soul (Mafia Romance) novel Chapter 146

I venture down to the club, wearing a simple back fitted shift dress over black flats with my hair up in a sleek ponytail. Understated glam today and simple with natural makeup, which isn’t my normal forte. I feel like a change, and to blend in a little, rather than my bold and brassy self. Low key to match my fragile mood, I guess.

I don’t know if he is still in the building, but I’m hoping we don’t cross paths for a little while. I need some normal to get my flow back and settle down after the past hugely traumatic and crazy twenty-four hours.

I can almost feel the calm and serene emanating from the club as staff work to put it to rights for tonight. The drama of last night forgotten because no Carrero men were harmed. The missing three had been Alexi, Mico and driver because the chief of police had sent them off ahead of the rest to miss out on the drama that followed. Gossips all over the club are whispering about it in dark corners and clearing up the misunderstandings. So much confusion last night from garbled, chaotic messages, but today it’s like a peaceful blanket has dampened it all down again.

Everyone back to business and carrying on with their duties like old hands who never blink at the occasional shooting in a public place.

I’m avoiding the news because I know for a fact it will be all over it and spewing whatever cover story the chief of the NYPD has put out there. The level of corruption in Alexi’s world is insane and destroys my faith in humanity.

He can literally get away with murder, which is a terrifying thought.

I wonder how he pulled that off in London with Rick. I’m guessing he has friends all over the globe who band together and pull in favours for the right price, and I know from when I lived there, London has its own underground crime scene and rich mob bosses. I have no doubts he has a few English Mafia as reliable friends across the water. Alexi is a man with a lot of connections and a reach that travels far. He can do whatever he wants, and his power has no limits. Such is the reality that most normal people have no concept of.

What’s one little paedophile pimp’s death to them?

Absolutely nothing more than a small favour for a powerful chum. The same world in which minions disappear daily only to be found in concrete boots nestled among the shoals of fish nibbling away at their flesh.

The whole thing makes my head spin.

People in the real world have no clue about this alternate existence that carries on right under their noses. The daily deals and deaths and the inscrutable characters who think nothing of selling people, arms and drugs, and get away with all sorts of heinous mischief. I have been part of that world for so long I doubt I could ever live in another. It’s there in the smiles of powerful men you think you can trust. Mayors, Police chiefs, respected businessmen and so many more. They are where the real power lies. Money talks and human life is cheap.

I don’t see myself being able to transition from that kind of experience and knowledge to become Suzie Homemaker. Raising brats and baking cookies in that fantasy world where everything is hunky dory. That’s not what I see for myself and it’s not what I want, not that I can have it. I don’t want to pretend I have no clue about the dark side of the world, and I don’t want to try to fit into the pretend play either. I don’t know what Alexi wants in a woman, but I won’t be tied down to become his trophy or kept with nothing to do all day except buy shoes and max his credit cards. There will be no mini Alexis in my future anyway, Rick took care of that and it’s something Alexi must know if he read the journals but didn’t mention it.

I want to have control over what I do. I want pride in some accomplishment and focus in life. The club gives me that, but I have an ambition that grows even further. I want something respectable, so I don’t have to hide the title of what I do or avoid normal conversations with people in Alexi’s public world, who know nothing of seedy sex clubs and drug-fuelled nights of debauchery.

I want something semi-acceptable. Something that takes me away from abhorrent sexual favours and leering perverts. I’m tired of always feeling dirty. I need something reputable.

A normal night club or a glitzy hotel job would be good, something to command. I’ve always been good at overseeing, organising and managing. I guess it’s my only real gift in life, and being able to wine, dine and schmooze people to what I want has only added to that ability. I’ve learned how to read and predict people’s needs and it’s a skill that only those who have lived a life of servitude can ever truly learn. I learned it at the school of hard knocks and know the power of keeping people sweet in any line of work. Well, until Alexi. I really could not make myself bend to his will at all.

Alexi saw it long before I did. He picked up on what I could do for him and he was right. The club is rolling along fluidly and raking in around 100 G a week from memberships alone. It has people begging to get in on it, and with the extra cash they throw at our girls, security for product extras and servers in tips, we don’t have a shortage of staff anymore. Everyone wants to work in this club, and everyone wants to be a part of the Carrero party. Word is filtering through to anyone worthy that they need to be involved, and Alexi already mentioned moving the entire club to bigger accommodation to cater to his growing member’s list as something he would need to think about. His club uptown that we visited for a refurb may be on his shortlist as a new venue, and I can’t say I won’t be sad. This place works because of location and size, and if he expands, I’m hoping he keeps both and runs them simultaneously or my share will be worthless.

I have created a little nook of awesome and it’s slowly paying Alexi back the cash he has invested in it. I don’t want him to outgrow it or the need for me to run it.

The main bar is busy with minions, running around wiping down surfaces, restocking and hoovering. It’s late in the day so they are almost done with the ritual clean up and I can only see the regular security milling around. I bypassed the office floor in case he was in there and now I’m looking for him, stupidly.

I wish my brain would pick a side and stick to it. I don’t want to see him and then when I can’t see him, I suddenly want to. I should just go chain myself to him, I’m pathetic enough.

I watch one of the bar girls meticulously inspecting shelves and wiping them down before giving her co-worker hell for missing some grubby spots and my attention is peaked. I’ve noticed her attention to the details a few times and her eagerness to keep on top of orders and customer satisfaction. Her name is Rebel from what I can remember, only stuck out to me because of its meaning, but now, as I watch her, a little plan forms in my head for a possible Hoe-Anne replacement and it puts a smile all over my face.

She’s smart, meticulous in her own appearance and looks more hostess than waitress if she had the right dress on. She isn’t afraid to put others in their place and has a little spark of Camilla that doesn’t offend me. I also am not offended by her and she treats me with respect.

“Miss me?” Alexi’s voice comes at me from far left as though I’d summoned him magically with intent, and I jump guiltily when I turn to see him walking out from one of the boudoirs with Mico behind him and completely forget about Rebel.

“You two have something to confess?” I nod at the sex room, Mico is closing and smile wittily as Alexi frowns at me. That look of zero amusement when I make gay jokes at him or any of his kinsmen. I swear the boy is secretly a homophobe.

“How do you know we weren’t having a threesome?” Alexi retorts with a smirk and I just continue to smile back. Although a little flutter in my stomach reminds me that this man has more power over me than I like to admit. I know he is joking but still, it stirs the little green-eyed monster in my belly. I don’t like his joke when it cuts to close to the bone.

“Because the girls don’t start until four, so unless it involved one of your big burly men …” That gets a deeper frown from him, severe furrowed brow and wrinkled nose, and he slides an arm around my shoulders casually and tugs me to walk with him. Annoyingly intrusive and stronger than the average man, so I have no choice but to fall in step with him and glare at his hands-on approach.

“We were having a private chat away from ears and the rooms are soundproofed.” He offers in way of answer and continues to keep walking me right back out of the bar without asking if I want to accompany him. It’s odd that suddenly, he thinks the touching rule has changed, but I guess I did fuck that up by having sex with him yesterday.

He sees it as an amended situation, I guess. No touching died with the no sex. He has another thing coming if he thinks sex is on repeat anytime soon. That is one area I was stupid to cross over into and have no intention of going there until I figure out what I want from us.

“Yet they are filmed, with sound. So, you know, your security could still hear you.” I remind him and get that blank look that serves to remind me that his security now only really comprises of people in his bloodline, after our little invasion and attempted kidnapping some months back. He trusts them and so conversations overheard are safe. It’s just my floor staff he avoids.

“You look pretty.” Alexi cuts in and changes conversation smoothly, obviously bored with the one we are having and Mico comes up level with us.

“I second that.” He smiles at me warmly; a familiar looming presence, looking enough like his cousin to see they are related, with their dark hair, Italian good looks, smouldering eyes and overly muscular stature. They are wearing matching dark suits and standard issue Mafia overcoats before stepping ahead to open the rear door and Alexi finally lets me go. Not following Mico immediately out of it but turns to face me instead and makes it clear this is where our little companion walk ends. He has somewhere to go and they are leaving. Hence the heavy jackets as it’s now getting into a colder season in the city and heavy snow is due in the coming few weeks. My insides sink a little; he has only just appeared and now, he is going. So much for wanting a day to myself, my stupid heart is contradicting it and I feel pathetic.

“Have dinner with me tonight?” He swoops right in with the request; no hint of hesitation and I sigh at him heavily. As much as I don’t want him to go, my stubborn pride is not willing to be bent to his will so easily. We went through this and he has learned nothing.

“Alexi … you’re infuriating. Like a dog with a bone.” I cross my arms over my chest, stand tall and adopt a no-nonsense expression. I stare at him with a very snooty pout. I only get a smile in response and he brushes a single strand of my hair back off my face that ignites the usual goosebumps and tingles, and I curse my wretched traitorous body. The tender affection knocks me off guard but doesn’t completely soften me to him.

“I know what I want, and I don’t like wasting time when it falls into place. You lit a fire under my ass and now I have my sights set on us.” The stubborn set of that very square jaw and no hint of soft this afternoon. He has his one-track mind engaged, bull-headed demeanour on and there’s no sweet and loving in sight.

“What about what I want?” I look away from him, too caught up in that set of alluring pale eyes that draw you in and hold you captive, aware my heart is stammering again. He easily affects me and when he’s in commander and chief air space, he is too efficient in manoeuvring me. I have no chance with this man as it is, God forbid I become so enamoured with him and steeped in his binds that I have no way out.

“Trust me, if I didn’t care about what you want, this would go a whole different way. Just a date, Cam. I’m not talking about anything else; no sex, strings, weird shit, or games. Just dinner, anywhere you choose, some time away from here. I want you to give me a chance that’s all.” Alexi, boorish and single minded, bearing down on me with a loaded look and I relent, cracking so easily under pressure. I hate when he makes me feel anxious, but it’s my own weak nature and my longing to see him for more than these few stolen seconds that truly makes me cave. If he wasn’t walking out the door, I probably wouldn’t be panic deciding. I’m literally torn in two about agreeing.

“You know if you refuse, I’ll just follow you around all night and make tonight a living hell.” He adds with a devilish smile that just elicits an eye roll and a sigh from me.

I know he would do that, specifically to annoy the shit out of me.

“What makes you think I care? I can ignore you.”