The Carrero Contract - Selling Your Soul (Mafia Romance) novel Chapter 172

Alexi pulls out my chair as we seat ourselves at the dinner table at eight, standing beside it so as not to cage me from behind. Always aware of that little fact. Always making me love him all the more.

We are in the grand burgundy and gold dining room of the classy hotel, alone so far as we are first here, and he slides his hand down the open back of my silver sequin gown as he moves beside me to sit down. Trailing fingertips down to where the dress closes over my bum and runs gentle featherlight touches across the naked skin before pulling away. Igniting every nerve ending I possess.

Tingles erupt across my skin and I blush at the memories of rolling about upstairs with him. Body still warm and glowing from the recent climax he gave me; I lean into him to deliver a kiss on that delicious mouth. Alexi cups my jaw lightly and kisses me properly, making me forget where we are, as he teases my lips apart seductively and gently caresses my mouth with his. Just a few moments of oblivion to our surroundings.

Yes, I was pissed for a while, but after I enjoyed my soak in the tub for half an hour, I came out to find him wearing nothing but a smile and holding a bottle of champagne as a peace offering. I soon forgot what I was mad about and he had me giggling childishly. He is too irresistible to stay mad at for long and I know what those hands and that body are capable of. He still finds my weaknesses and utilises them to his full advantage and had me on the bed and moaning in under three minutes.

Alexi ordered some light snacks to tide us over till tonight and we ate most of the food off each other’s body as we got inventive. It quickly got very messy and sticky and then he moved me to the floor to remind me why I let him get away with being an unromantic shithead. The bed was disgusting by the time we finished and the champagne he poured over me to lick off stained everything. It required showering after, which of course was just an addition to our session and despite his ‘water makes sex dry’ he managed just fine to pin me against the wall and screw my brains out.

I think I have a serious addiction to the wild unleashed side of him. Even though he tends to prop my knees by my ears and show me who’s boss. Forgets the human body has limits to flexibility and he is lucky I’m pretty bendy.

I treated him to one of my very finest blowjobs; finally got to show that man where my biggest talent lies. Pleased to say that he is a mere mortal and when sucked well, he can’t hold off cumming for long at all, and now I know how to end a long sex session if my body decides enough is enough. He returned the favour and we never made it outside for any sort of sightseeing. Not that I’m complaining.

I’m now so laid back, relaxed and satisfied it’s like being tipsy on fine wine. It may be the copious amounts of champagne adding to my surreal dream-like state, but I feel good. Merry, chilled, nothing bothering me, and all my focus is on his little discreet touches on my leg under the table.

It was to my great delight to inform tits on the main desk that our bed needed some clean bedding as we sexed it up, and now it was too filthy to sleep in. She almost choked when I told her, quite bluntly, what I meant by that.

Alexi just gave me that sideways, amused look of seriousness and made no remark. I could tell, despite his silent, deadpan face, he was a little smug that I was broadcasting to little miss boobs that he was, in fact, a sex beast in the sack. He’s a man after all. They do like to have their egos stroked and have girls profess all about their masterly skills to one another.

Gino and Alessandra appear with smiles and air kisses as they pass and proceed to sit further around the huge table. It’s barely seconds before I have time to drop my napkin on my lap when Alexi stands up to greet our four other guests.

Prompt, on time as he likes it and I turn myself to see the approaching Carrero cousins. Lexi pulls the first into a handshake and a manly half pat hug type manoeuvre.

“Rob, Georgie, good to see you again.” Alexi moves between them and embraces the second of the men. I don’t even need a DNA test to tell who they are. They have fairer hair than the standard black of most of the Carreros, but the features and piercing blue eyes are a giveaway. Height, build, and that annoying Hollywood sexy smile. They are brothers and obviously cousins of Alexi and Gino. Either that or the illegitimate sons of his father.

They have two women in tow, both blonde, leggy, pretty things and they are introduced as the wives, it’s brief hurried as though their presence is unimportant. Not that it’s a shock, this is the general way of men in Alexi’s world; woman equals object. They don’t get formal intro’s and when they do, it’s brief and uninteresting.

“This is Camilla Walters, my girlfriend.” Alexi helps me stand and I take a moment to gawp, a weird startled look as the words pour so effortlessly out of his mouth. Both for the proper introduction and the way he just says it so easily while putting me in between himself and the men to shake hands.

WOW.

Never in a million years did I think that sentence would roll so smoothly from this man’s tongue. The fact he presents me and brings me to his side for a formal meet and greet is also another strange move. I’m not being used to charm or coerce the men; therefore, my presence doesn’t need much attention. Alexi is acting like a proud owner of a shiny new toy, showing it to his peers. This is not the done thing. Even I know that, and the odd strained looks on the faces of this party of four says it all.

“Howdy. You sure are a pretty little thing.” They almost say it in unison, with a very odd accent for Carrero men. Slightly southern and not native to Vegas or New York which makes me blink twice, and it’s obvious it’s an empty compliment from two men wondering why their cousin just made an extra point of introducing a girlfriend.

I assumed all Carrero men came from the same batch and would all have that little half hint of an authentic Italian accent hidden in the upper-class New York dialect, like Alexi.

Introductions are made between everyone, polite hugs and handshakes before we are all finally seated and the men almost instantly jump into talks about the casino, they have been scoping out here. It’s obvious they have done the groundwork for Alexi and I sit and mull over the menu to let them talk. Feeling that overbearing weight of ‘women shall not be heard’ coming over from that side of the table. Introductions forgotten.

Alessandra is wearing sunglasses already, seeing as she and Gino got very drunk while having noisy sex all afternoon. We heard them when Alexi opened the door for our food cart and texted Gino to tell him the halls were echoing with the noise they were making. This hotel has two penthouse apartments, in what used to be one huge one. They share a hall with us with a door directly opposite ours.

The two of them are still in the stage of parties and wild living with her being a model who travels a lot. Every time they get together, they go wild, according to Lexi. When she is home, they get a little crazy together, horny, smashed and loud and now she is silently regretting the amount of chardonnay she downed.

The other women are completely silent and it’s eerie. They don’t even converse with each other; they stare at their menus, glasses of water and then plates while they await the menfolk to pick food. I watch them feeling somewhat bemused that this archaic 1950s type of woman still exists.

The carefully chosen modest clothes, the perfect, groomed appearance of acceptable, good Christian wives and both have dainty silver crosses around their neck declaring their faith. I can’t help glancing to and from women to men and then Alexi and it’s obvious there is a huge difference here.

Gino and Alessandra are oblivious, but I can smell the intensely religious influence and the old-fashioned pecking order of women who know their place. Women who don’t look up and make eye contact without permission.

These are women who obey their men. Something I know is normal among families steeped in tradition and I catch myself glancing at Alexi and contemplating it. I wonder if this is expected of the married women in his family. I wonder if I ever married him would his need to lord over me intensify like it did in the beginning and he would coerce and push me into another ‘Yes, Sir’. The thought gives me a horribly abrupt drop in the pit of my stomach and cold goosebumps bristle over my whole body.

I just couldn’t live that way.

They are like mindless bots awaiting permission to breathe or be seen.

Downcast eyes, sullen expressions and I can imagine sex is given when ordered and probably missionary once the bloom of the honeymoon period has worn off.

“Are you ready to order?” A waitress comes to the side of the table beside the first blonde and she blushes profusely without looking up. Instantly uncomfortable at being singled out first. That immediate uneasy reaction and her eyes fly to her husband who is deep in conversation and unaware. I can see the hesitation all over her face and body as she tries to figure out how to behave without command. Too caught up in knowing her place that she won’t interrupt him to draw attention.

It’s pathetic and just makes the bile in my stomach rise faster. That edge of ‘fuck no’ coming up and over me.

“Ma’am?” The waitress tries again, sounding a little less patient but gets the same rabbit in the headlight response. A woman unable to speak without permission, fumbling with her napkin and refusing to look the server’s way. It’s excruciating to watch really, and I butt in to save her soul from going to hell, or wherever naughty Christian girls go when they enrage their masters.

“I’m starving and almost ready to eat Lexi’s tie. God, these men know how to make us wait. I’ll have the steak, rare with a side salad and your finest house red wine.” I push out brazenly, interrupting the tense standoff and loud enough to be heard. A weird deathly stillness drops into my orbit and the two women immediately stop, eyes widening as they stare at me with crimson blushes spreading across their petrified faces. They both seem to stop breathing. The whole table falls silent. I could hear a pin drop and try not to react with the sudden deafening quiet.

Alexi looks around to see what has happened, with the sudden change of atmosphere to an ice-cold chill, and one of the men frowns at me before whipping the menu out of his wife’s hand and sternly orders meals for them both. He doesn’t even ask her what she wants and just tosses her menu back when he is done. Cousin two follows suit and then Gino and Alessandra order for themselves quickly while no one seems to take a breath.

There’s a weird strained tension all around us, like a heavy smog and finally Alexi pipes in to break it.

“Steak for me too … make it a bottle of red for the two of us and I will have a straight brandy while we wait. She’s right, we are all famished, and the ladies shouldn’t wait to eat while we men talk shop.” He doesn’t seem at all flustered in the way the men are behaving but I can feel eyes eating into me, summarising the cause and realise that Alessandra is being oddly quiet too.

I don’t like the vibes I’m getting. I can tell I just broke some unspoken rule of etiquette for this family and I’m regretting it profusely. I don’t want Alexi mad at me for something so dumb.