The Carrero Contract - Selling Your Soul (Mafia Romance) novel Chapter 156

He tells me things like this, he told me about things even before, so I have no doubts.

I walk in, this time keeping my eyes off my sulky bastard of a man and slide the tray down in the centre of the seating on one of the low tables. I have to avoid looking his way and get with the programme that we can barely stand each other. Jackson slides his beside mine neatly, an eerie silence of men staring at us, and as I go to follow him out, I’m halted by that snappy tone.

“Pour it … get your head out of your ass, Walters.” A harsh cutting tone that signals I’m not done here. Alexi sounds pissed still, and I spin to catch him glaring at me as though I have committed the ultimate sin by expecting them to pour their own. They expect servitude of women in his world, even I know that. What I didn’t expect was him to still be in the throes of prick mode and singling me out again.

Why the fuck did he make me come up here if he was going to be like this? He could have got any of the staff to run after his arse and serve his buddies. This all feels a little too personal.

And when does he ever call me Walters? Never, not in the whole time I have known him. It’s always Cam or London.

I glare right back, this time upset replaced with an ignited fury that he should talk down to me like a piece of shit in front of these men. I don’t care who they are. He has no right to treat me so badly when I run this fucking club and make it what it is. I’m not just one of the low wage staff downstairs. I own part of the fucking building! I earned my respect.

Santagato sits back and gets comfy, lounging like a fat cat who owns the joint and I can almost feel his eyes boring into me, enjoying my humility. Smug and getting off to a woman being put in her place. A woman he was denied not so long ago and nausea swirls in my stomach, my skin crawling as his eyes eat me up like fresh meat. Hating him with a passion for enjoying this.

“How awful of me to forget my place.” I grind out the last word, oozing disdain with every syllable, throwing Alexi a dagger of a sneer and pull the tray towards me to put the cups out. I grit my teeth to stop myself slamming them on the polished surface and rein in the bubbling lava threatening to explode out of me.

WANKER, ARSEHOLE, TOSSER, PRICK, ARSEHOLE!

All of the above and then some.

Alexi ignores me and talks right over the top of me like I’m nothing. Not everything, not his everything … just the worthless nothing he said I wasn’t.

Actions speak louder than words Alexi. Don’t you know that?

“Can’t get the help nowadays.” He smirks and Santagato lets out a dirty grating laugh. Like nails on a chalkboard and I shudder inwardly. Another layer of my skin threatening to peel from my bones as cringe overtakes me. I really despise Santagato with a passion only my hatred of Alexi rivalled; maybe he can have it back.

“Well, if you have to choose between efficient or fuckable, I guess it’s hard to tick both boxes. I can see her assets are probably best carried out on her knees.” He snorts dirtily and my whole body stiffens as I try not to react. I start inwardly reciting a mantra to myself.

You know this is how this world works—ignore and breath.

Don’t react.

Don’t reply with a catty remark.

For the love of God, just keep your mouth SHUT.

I can’t even bring myself to look at Alexi and all the blood drains from my face as his voice cuts in.

“I’ve had better. She is good at keeping the papers in order though.”

I swear I feel like I might be sick, listening to him like this. The way he just dismissed sex with me in such a degrading manner. It’s too much. I just can’t.

The same cold bastard he has been for months and even though I know it’s not real, it’s so hard to separate. How can I believe he is capable of more when it’s so easy for him to revert to kind? How can I have faith in someone who is capable of still being this way after telling me he loved me?

It’s unnecessarily cruel. It’s cold and hurtful and it’s what I should have expected from a man who used my past to destroy me. He isn’t any different. He is exactly who he has always been.

I pour a few mugs full of black coffee carefully, keeping myself in check to show nothing outwardly. My mask moving in to shield me from prying eyes and I make very practised deliberate movements to hide how my inner self trembles and breaks, ready to sob her day away. I slide them in front of the men sitting, stomach tight and throat closing, pushing the sugar bowl and creamer jug to them, only too glad that I can escape now I’m done. I turn to push one at Alexi knowing he takes his black with no sweeteners at all.

“Do you take anything? Sugar, creamer? Arsenic?” I mutter the last word under my breath at him but it’s obvious by the tiny, angry flicker in his jawline that he heard it, and I get a cold glare thrust at me from under furrowed dark brows. Those pale eyes stirring with a hint of a storm, and I sense a foreboding that makes me want to run.

“Go be a good girl and find something to polish downstairs. Maybe tidy up your makeup while you are at it, I can’t stand looking at sloppy women.” Alexi growls at me, pointing out that my liner is probably smudging from unquenched tears on the way up here and earns himself a seething, hateful glare. The air bristling between us with a static that makes the hair on my skin stand on end. In this second, I loathe him.

I lift my chin, swoosh my hair back with sass and turn on my heel without a further response, I don’t wait a moment longer. Ready to storm off on stilettos and screw him to hell and back—I hate him.

Fuck that wanker, I will never let him touch me again.

“That ass … I would love to fuck her black and blue and still get hard for a second round.” Santagato’s filthy mouth follows me out the door and I inwardly cringe once more, skin crawling and aware of the fact Alexi has not once warned him off this time. His lewd comments go unchecked and no show of possessive ownership at all.

Alexi the bastard wouldn’t let Santagato near me, but the person in that room said nothing about his sexual remarks. In fact, he fucking encouraged it. I hesitate for a moment and wonder if this version of him would let him touch me and I have no clear answer. I’m confused, heartbroken and angrier than hell. No clue what the hell happened to him in such a short space of time and just wishing I never came down at all.

I slam the door as I storm out, fire and tears battling to be dominant and I head straight for the lift. Jackson close at my heel and he seems to sense he shouldn’t say anything this time or get too close. An icy silence emanating from me that speaks volumes. Jackson sheepishly gives me my venting space and I refuse to let myself crumble for someone who doesn’t deserve my tears.

Fuck you, Alexi Carrero. I should have known this is who you would be.

I look up from my seat at the bar where I’m sorting through receipts as the group of men walk past. Alexi deep in conversation with Santagato amid them and I try my best to blank them completely. Still pissed as hell and overly prickly from earlier. He pauses as they come level and looks at me coldly, pulling my eyes to his with just the power of that stare and I curse myself for the tingles that spread across my body like wildfire. Averting my gaze just as quickly and trying to zone him out.

“Walters?” He almost barks it, prickish tone and bossy shithead demeanour fully engaged and I slowly lift my head deliberately to hide the fact I’m hating on him and he is not exactly helping the situation.

“What, Mr Carrero.” I ooze hostile charm and sarcasm as I glare right at his smug bastard face and his eyebrow twitches slightly. Think he has finally realised I’m so livid I’m beyond furious and maybe he is a little too convincing.

It’s not a game for me. It’s not an act. I’m genuinely wounded and right now I could easily stab him in the face with my pen.