The Carrero Contract - Selling Your Soul (Mafia Romance) novel Chapter 147

I throw my third sexy dress on the bed and slump down in a deflated heap, annoyed with myself that I’m doing exactly what I said I wouldn’t do. Prettying myself up for him and stressing over how to dress and what to wear like some sad little teenage idiot on a first date. I can’t believe myself sometimes.

He texted me and told me to be ready for six and to dress casually. Whatever that means. Ironic really, as that was my original plan; to show a lack of effort and now, here I am with a bed full of dresses and he is the one telling me to dress down.

I don’t know if he means casual pretty for somewhere like his Italian restaurant or if he means jeans and sweater casual. I’m not asking him because then he will think I’m keen for tonight and I’m definitely not. This is my first stage of observing and analysing him. Spend time, suss him out and look for all the little acts and niggles that cement whether this is genuine.

I need to be sure I’m not being played, once and for all. Tonight will tell me that, and then maybe if I can suss it out, it will make the decision a whole lot easier.

That’s about as far as I have got with my plans, anyway. Play along, be nice, rile him occasionally, and try to figure him out. Shouldn’t be too hard to tell if it’s fake with some well-placed button pushes to see if his mean side is sleeping or just hiding from me. Alexi can act demure and charming all he wants, but the proof of the pudding and all that is when I make him lose his temper with me. It’s easy to poke that bear—disobedience or just flout the ownership buttons and boom. We have ourselves an Alexi meltdown and immediate sadistic appearance with that temper he struggles to control.

A necessary evil to see how different he really can be. If I have to endure being punished to see him for what he really is then at least I’ll know what my future would be like. I can run and never look back, with no doubt that I was saving myself from a lot of heartache.

I pull on another figure-hugging dress and glance at my clock, cursing myself that it’s almost six and he will show up at any minute. Picking a long jumper dress over skinny jeans, to look like I made zero effort, I re-brush my hair back into its sleek ponytail and turn it into a messy bun. I’m going for the ‘I just threw this on and forgot we had plans’ kind of look, finished with a scarf and flats.

Not my normal ensemble on any given day, but this is not any normal day. And I won’t admit I have been fussing with my appearance for almost two hours, driving myself insane with nerves and indecision.

I touch up my neutral makeup and apply a lip gloss rather than my trademark red lip and scrutinise myself a little too closely. Obsessing, and I know I’m doing it because my nerves are on high alert and I feel ridiculously uncertain.

I look young, pretty girl, almost college student. Not sure I like the look but it’s definitely not screaming seduction of any sort, and I think at the back of my mind, that’s what I was aiming for in reality. I don’t look like I normally do and part of me wants to see if it makes a difference to him. Does a non-sexy and slutty Camilla still make him want to nail me?

Sex is a NO. It’s the one area where I’m not willing to leave myself vulnerable again. Yesterday was stupid and if he truly wants something between us, he will accept I’m taking it off the table, effective immediately. No end date in sight for the time being either. I can make do with BOB should I get horny, and well, I already know he hits the spot every time. You can’t beat a battery-operated boyfriend in times of need.

I walk out of my room, adjusting my jumper as he comes strolling in, right on time, looking unusually happy and bright and smiling my way. Alexi has gone full-on casual and I’m bitterly disappointed that he won’t blink twice at my attire. He’s in grey washed jeans and a tight blue T-shirt under a black leather jacket and a pair of leather boots. Completely casual and now I’m the one annoyed he didn’t make more effort. He doesn’t even look like he shaved and is sporting stubble on that normally clean-shaven face.

I have hit an alternate dimension.

It’s more Gino’s style than Alexi’s. If it wasn’t for that dragon tattoo peeking out at his collar and those grey husky eyes looking my way, I would swear the wrong twin was up here.

“You look cute.” He smiles at me as he bypasses and goes straight into his room without any appraisal. I swear it’s three words no woman ever wants to hear from the mouth of the man she’s dating.

What the fuck is cute when it comes to men?

Puppies are cute! Kid sisters are CUTE!

Women you want to bang senseless are never CUTE!

What the hell is with me? I seem to have more moods than a psycho with PMS and need to get a grip. I dressed down to annoy him, then get pissed because he did too, and now I’m getting hormonal and sulky because he called me cute. I swear I need a Xanax or something to level my emotions out.

If this is what a love confession from Alexi does to you, then maybe I should feign a headache and go to bed. I can feel disaster brewing with how weird I’m being and should really admit defeat before tonight ends in tears.

I thought him being ‘off’ would be my biggest hurdle, but it looks like this is all on me.

He reappears carrying a set of keys in one hand and a messenger bag in the other and I look him up and down quizzically. Student chic seems to be catching and I’m not sure I like it on him.

“You’ll need a warm jacket; we’re taking my bike.” He pulls his bag over his head, still not making any real attempt at checking me out and zips up his jacket while nodding towards my room, and I stare at him.

“Your what?” My jaw drops open and my insides instantly flutter and die. Fear clearly evident on my face with widening eyes and a startled expression. I hope to God he doesn’t mean one we pedal, not that either option is better than the other. A petrol guzzling version has never been on my list of things to experience in my life. I have sanity.

“My bike … motorbike. I have a very nice one and it’s handy for small streets and casual dates.” He grins and throws me that irritating wink before turning me and giving me a gentle shove to my room, dismissing the look of horror on my face and being a little pushy in the process.

“Oh, and maybe take your hair down, the helmet will only fuck it up and make it uncomfortable to wear.”

“Helmet?” I squeak and instantly feel faint. A cold wash of weakness overcoming me.

“Well, you could go without, but brain smear on the sidewalk isn’t a good look if we crash.” The tone of his voice is way too serious and I flash back an alarmed gasp his way. Eyes wide with terror and my heart stops beating.

“Oh, my God! CRASH?” I swear he is trying to terrify me, and I’m frozen to the spot, gawping like a fool, skin turning cold with lack of blood that just pulls an evil laugh out of him. Mr Sadistic is still in there.

“Jesus Christ, do you seriously have zero faith in me? I wouldn’t take my bike if I thought I would end up killing you, Cam. Now move.” He shoves me again and this time I trip over my doorway and half jog inside to grab whatever coat seems to have the most padding. Clumsy but distracted and thinking only of skidding along the road to certain death and leaving the imprint of my face on the concrete. I try to shake that visual out of my head, but my hands are already clammy and my heart bursting out of my ribcage. I’m not sure I want to get on a motorcycle. I’ve never sat on one in my life and didn’t even know he owned one, let alone rode them.

It just seems like a stupid thing to do on purpose, and I cannot understand what would possess anyone to want to do it.

“You are like … an accomplished biker, right?” I stammer as I come back out, sounding like a total wimp, voice trembling lightly, pulling on my own leather jacket that’s a lot longer than his. Praying it covers all vital organs and saves me from certain death should I meet tarmac up close. I feel sick with churning nerves and already picking at my zipper nervously.

“Very.” He ignores the obvious fear in my voice, catches me by the hand firmly and pulls me with him. Not waiting to check if hand holding is something we are doing and yanking me like a disobedient younger sibling who won’t do as they are told. Seems he thinks it is as he laces his fingers through mine securely so I can’t escape him, and I’m pulled with him at a brisk pace that gets a glare thrown at the back of his head.

“Wait. I don’t have my bag or my phone. I don’t have keys or money or anything.” I stop, getting my arm tugged with my rapid pause and he yanks me a little more firmly with him, so I yelp and almost fall over. I frown at him angrily. Alexi doesn’t even seem to notice my hateful glare, and he isn’t exactly being chivalrous in the first minutes of what is meant to be a romantic date.

Arsehole.

“You don’t need anything, just you.” I get a warm smile thrown back at me and I’m once again hauled behind him, rather aggressively for a guy attempting charm and adoration. I try to wriggle my hand free, but he holds on tighter and flashes me that look of his that says, ‘keep trying, I’m not letting go’. Hints of that controlling prick lurking under the friendly persona, and I narrow my eyes and put one black cross on my mental list for tonight. He earns a few of those on this ‘date’ and he will see the last of me.

Wanker.

I can strike ‘gentle’ off the list too then. Seems that part is not long lasting. Being manhandled like a piece of meat is not my idea of romantic wooing. He has a lot to learn about schmoozing me into a better mood after this.

I get pulled at a brisk pace to the lift, where I’m silenced with a chaste kiss thrown on my lips when he turns me beside him. Right before he punches in the ground floor button. It’s so rapid I cannot object nor take part; a grazing of lips much like the one in the kitchen last night, and he gets a pointed look so frosty I could freeze the air in here.

“You know kissing me isn’t really the done thing when we aren’t actually a thing.” I point out blandly. Another black cross on my mental list of first date misdemeanours.

“Well, yesterday I had my dick inside you, so I’m guessing it’s not really a step too far to do it.” I get that cheeky arrogant smirk and I slap him in the shoulder impulsively.

“Alexi! That’s crude and not very gentlemanly. You’re a prick and not doing a great job of making me want to date you.” I huff and get even more annoyed when that smirk turns into a wider grin, amused at me. He rests his shoulder against the back wall casually and shrugs.

“Look, I’m expecting sex to be a no-go, considering you were like a speed runner right after. At least give me kissing, within reason. As for wanting to date me … looks like you’re here and coming with me, so I have no worries on that front.”

Arghh, PRICK!

“When did this become a negotiation? We had a no touching rule, remember? And it’s hard not to go out with you when you are dragging me along like a stroppy toddler.” I point out harshly.