The Carrero Contract - Selling Your Soul (Mafia Romance) novel Chapter 161

I stand for the longest time in the kitchen area of the lower floor, knowing I’m delaying the inevitable. Alexi upstairs barging around like a crazed panther and looking to take it out on the person who just publicly disobeyed and humiliated him. I can almost visualise him in all his vicious glory. Caged, wild and ferocious while his family try to contain the eruption.

We were to be a secret … I have made that impossible now.

I feel like I can’t breathe, lungs constricted and wrapped in chains. My body is heavy, running cold with the profound acceptance that this will only end badly for me, and I can’t stop shivering. I’m so jittery. Avoiding him is delaying what I deserve but facing him is a fate worse than death.

I need air; I need space; I need solitude. My head is spinning a million miles an hour and the pain from his ‘date’ revelation is numbing out as logic and sense filter through to give me a massive shake. Regret replaces anger for what I just did; apprehension replaces the satisfaction of purging my club of his past conquests. My brain has stopped her impulsive hate attack on the man who wronged me and is now in the ‘maybe I overreacted’ frame of thinking.

I’m an idiot sometimes. Too fiery and kick out without thinking at all. Actions from reactions and little to no thought about what truth is staring me in the face.

I did overreact … her response solidified what he said upstairs. ‘It wasn’t a date, it was business’ in other words, paid to accompany him and act like an adoring mistress. He doesn’t pay for company or sex; he doesn’t need to. So, she understood she was playing a role and it was going nowhere. He separated it by making it clear it was a business arrangement and nothing else. Took any hopes or misunderstandings out of it so she wouldn’t get the wrong idea. Something he would never do for a screw.

Her attitude said it all. His attitude said it all. He was mad because I questioned his truths. He isn’t the type to lie to me about cheating. He would just say it how it was. That’s who he is. He was angry because I accused him when he knew he was being honest.

And of course, he wouldn’t see it as a detail he had to tell me about. She served a similar purpose to the extra men he takes with him, even if they’re not needed. It’s all about appearances and letting his enemies see only what he wants them to see or know what he intends, and yesterday was all about keeping me secret and safe. She was just a number to his party and not anything of importance.

He didn’t lie.

He put on a show to hide the fact there is a woman he cares for.

Me.

And now because of me being a complete idiot, he will have to work ten times as hard to protect me as big-mouthed pissed whores run amok and tell the world how Alexi Carrero’s hostess threw a jealous fit and sacked his past conquests. It’s just painting a huge red arrow over my goddamn head. Women who already move in dangerous circles and their gossip could be overheard by the wrong people. Rumours spread like wildfire when it’s something like this.

Absolutely fucking great, Camilla. Gold star for brightest brain in the building!

I feel sick with the realisation that I acted like a complete mental case consumed with jealousy and pain because I’m insecure and untrusting and carry a million issues relating to that man. I didn’t stop to let it filter or think it through and now … well, we are at war and he is probably storming around, trapped by Mico, and venting like crazy about all the heinous things he wants to do to me. Which of course, Alexi will try so hard to control.

I don’t think there is enough booze in the world to calm that kind of chaos right now. And yet another little detail I should have picked up on. He was self-medicating right there in front of me to try and keep his cool with me. I was attacking him, and he was trying not to overreact. That’s why he was propped at the bar and downing shots one after the other like a thirsty alky. Self-calming that quick to aggression personality of his because he didn’t want to fight with me or make things worse.

Stupid girl.

I need to leave him to calm down and let his own sense of logic come into play.

Which it will, eventually.

Maybe.

Alexi left me after Miami for a week, for this reason. To evaluate, think it through and calm himself back to human. He will take time to do the same here, although hopefully not a week. To recognise that it was a knee-jerk response from an over-emotional woman who has been burned by him many times. I’m praying that smart head will push the bad temper aside if I give him a little breathing space and I never have to find out if punishing me is still a possibility. Alexi calms down eventually, I’ve seen it. He can be reasonable when handled the right way.

God, I know this. I know how to approach him.

He gave it to me in black and white, that night at his little bolthole. An aggressive, combative approach gets the same in return. He can’t help it. He reacts to fire with fire, even though he loves me. He recognises this and even told me that gently is how to deal with him. He was giving me the key to avoiding this kind of shit between us. He can’t change all that he is, and he knows this, so he gave me a way to combat his worst and accept him. If I had asked him sanely, and listened, we would probably still be upstairs making out on his desk.

In those moments I was putty in his hands and no thoughts of mistrust were invading to stop what he was doing. I was all his.

I head back into the main bar which is now back to being organised and polished with the departure of girls done and dusted and try to shake it all away with a head toss. Legs weak, hands trembling and a huge lump in my throat which might be my heart trying to vomit itself out of my body. I feel nauseous, antsy and I’m twisting the bracelet on my wrist trying to remember that he can be someone else. It’s proof of that; proof he can be sweet and caring and not a psycho. Someone considerate and thoughtful, and if I let him cool off, we can fix this.

I won’t argue anymore. I’ll be good. I’ll stop jumping and sticking my foot in my mouth if he just lets this slide this time. I’ll be obedient without question ever again.

I can’t face anything he is capable of doing to me, it truly will be the end. Even if I know I caused it.

Everyone is working faster and quieter than usual, probably for fear of losing their own positions and no one glances my way as I walk through and head to the main entrance impulsively. My natural poise with chin up and a confident stroll, like I have no cares. Mask intact while my insides are crumbling to ashes. I have to keep swallowing the excessive saliva down from my stomach as it tries to bring up my entire gooey lining. I’m just fraught and scared and hurting because, above all, this stupid thing might be the end of what never really got started. I know myself well enough. If he does anything to me then I’ll run, regardless of blame and being deeply in love with him. I won’t stay. My self-preservation won’t let me.

I just need a little air and open space to get my shit together, my bravado back and think about how to handle him. I’m sure with some quiet, I can figure something out.

I don’t even second guess my destination, it’s like a longing, a need for sky and oxygen and calming thoughts. Headspace in an area free of restraint and impending doom.

I push past the two girls leaning there in front of the main door, using a nearby pillar as a rest. Dressed in red underwear and satin robes over fake boobs and sculpted bodies. I think it’s our pole dancers for the show tonight and try my best to ignore their eyes following me as I get to the door behind them. Not really taking them in at all.

I’m desperate for fresh air and push myself outside to stand on the front steps of the building, pulling the heavy wooden door shut behind me. Sun assaulting me instantly, even though it’s a crisp frosty day with a smell in the air of threatening rain. I blink and shade my face for a second as my eyes adjust and inhale the air as deeply as I can. More in a bid to feel less frantic, than to breathe.

It’s blinding after the darker confines of the bar and I stumble forward before my eyes have really settled into the brighter surroundings.

“You okay, Miss Walters?” The familiar voice of the head of security comes through and I nod my head in his direction. Trying not to engage in case he asks me to go back inside. Blinking as I see more men standing out here, doing God knows what. Normally all security is inside but I guess due to the frenzy of cleaning, some of them are out here smoking a cigarette and enjoying the air. Taking advantage of daytime freedom before the club opens tonight.

I never really thought about the fact that most of them work constantly and never seem to go home or have a day off. It’s a way of life for some of them and they work longer than twelve-hour shifts. Mico never seems to do anything else except shadow Alexi, even into the night, I know he obviously has time with his fiancée and time for a home, it just never seems that way. He is always with him.

Saying that, however, Jackson is AWOL today, apparently, it’s his wife’s birthday and Alexi gave him the day off. It’s weird to imagine Jackson with a normal everyday life and family outside of these walls. Or that Alexi deems something like that as a reason to be home. Guess he has always shown heart to his family.

It also means I cannot stand here, but the thought of going back in sends me into an internal meltdown. They are imposing on my people free zone and I’m tetchy, itchy with the need for solitude and sun.

I need headspace. Desperately.

I move down the steps, away from the men and they go back to conversing about a football match once I’m out of the way. Not paying attention to my whereabouts, in fact, one of the girls inside opens and closes the door, throwing out a cigarette end and I catch head security glance back with a satisfied nod. He thinks it’s me going back inside I guess and hasn’t spotted me sliding away to be shielded by the stair wall. He goes back to chatting and I’m forgotten so easily.

No one reporting me to upstairs for going wandering.

I wander a little further onto the cracked concrete pavement and walk in small circles for a while, hidden from view by the tall half-standing wall that used to be some sort of barrier. It’s high enough to act as a shade for me. I pace absentmindedly to try to calm my erratic swishing insides and breathless angst until the air penetrates my clothes and cools me down to a mild shiver. One eye on the group of men for no real reason and satisfied they haven’t acknowledged me over here at all.

It’s not overly freezing today, and my dress is made of wool, so it’s warm enough not to go in for a jacket. I keep moving until I’m around fifteen feet from them, gazing out into the street and the traffic coming and going at the far end of the long lane ahead. The club nestles in a side alley not far from the main road, so even though it’s noisy out here, the immediate area in front of me is car-free. It can be peaceful if you walk far enough from milling security groups

I stare up the darkened building and its foreboding presence and shiver at the thought of him in there, on the upper floors, pacing crazily. I wonder if he can see me from the tinted-out office level, if that is where he is, and jump at a sudden invasion to my thoughts.