The Carrero Contract - Selling Your Soul (Mafia Romance) novel Chapter 176

Exactly one hour to the second after he left the room he walks back in, looking a little stony-faced and unreadable. His mood appears frosty and he casts me a glance as I sit on the couch finishing up my lipstick. I pretend I’m not affected by his sudden appearance and don’t react to him walking in. Focusing hard on just applying my signature red stain while holding a compact mirror.

Although, in reality, my heart skips a beat, my stomach sinks and I have to breathe very slowly to keep my calm at the sight of him. My hands tremble. I feel sick instantly and know that we are either going to fight or … well, who am I kidding. We are probably just going to fight. I mean, how can we not?

I overreacted slightly—majorly. I can’t undo that reaction and yet I’m still internally panicking like a freak and not able to even broach the M word yet.

I’m clean, dressed, made up and less ‘ugh’ after several aspirins and two bottles of water. I haven’t eaten yet as my insides are still doing the washing machine cycle of a hangover program, but I feel more human. A little less psychotic.

Emotionally I’m still nowhere further forward other than in a state of ‘was this all a dream’ but his manner brings it all back to reality. Alexi is as closed off and prickly as when he left, and it just ruins my Zen that I have been struggling to maintain while doing my face.

I sat and stared at that certificate for the best part of 15 minutes and despite the crazy manic panic running through me, there was also incredible sadness for the most stupid things. A deep gut-wrenching regret that contradicted my reaction as a whole.

I will never know what it was like to have him propose. I will never have pre-wedding nerves or doubts, and I will never have a memory of marrying him if this pans out and we make a go of it. If I even can. I will never know the highs and lows that go with any of those things, nor experience the excitement or feelings of joy, the emotions … any of it. I have nothing of that at all. I woke up married, like a clinical, manipulated manoeuvre, and it’s left me hollow and broken in so many ways. Like a shock to the system and I’m still reeling in the aftermath.

Maybe if I had all of that, my gut instinct might have not been to freak out about being locked up for life in a dark hole and abused till the end of time. If I had some control, some say, made a choice and had a memory of wanting it … then, maybe.

Yeah, the idiotic things that invaded my brain while tearing my hair out over my unexpected marriage to a dickhead.

Instead, I can’t stop obsessing over this overwhelming claustrophobia of being someone’s possession. It’s leaving a sour taste in my mouth, and even having time to really examine it and talk some sense into myself, I can’t shift that terror of being owned. A deep scar from past lives that have no bearing on how he feels about me, yet it changes everything.

I feel insecure, frightened about the future. My peace of mind and contentment he helped nurture, has gone.

I lost all of that in one drunken haze that ended with very wild sex, and lots of it judging by the mess of lube and champagne all over the sheets when I went looking for my bracelet.

I woke up shackled. A name on a piece of paper binding me to my master. Contained, entrapping me for life.

I push that aside, knowing I’m being irrational, and I just need to let this settle for a while. Get used to it and stop letting those inner fears and scars cloud over reality and twist my brain into seeing worse than is there. Focus on other things.

Anything.

Like, what kind of sex we had in here last night.

Lube is new for us, so I’m guessing I got kinky and wanted anal. I have been known to like it occasionally, when I feel dominant, kinky, and get on top to do it for myself, and drunken sex with Lexi I can imagine he was very open to something like that. He doesn’t seem like a guy who wouldn’t be into adventurous sex given past performances, and it explains why even back there is tender. He’s not a small boy, I might have to sit on a doughnut for a week.

I’m also deeply gutted that I broke my bracelet, even if I’m hating on him right now for no good reason, seeing as he hasn’t actually done anything wrong. Not by sane standards, anyway. Just me and my faulty wiring and screwed up emotional mess.

I must have caught the catch during our bed aerobics as I have snapped the clasp and had to leave it dejectedly on the table while I got ready. Something else I’m smarting over, and every time I look at it, I feel like crying. It feels symbolic to me. Breaking the charm bracelet he gave me that encouraged me to never give up on my dreams of freedom.

Ironic.

It’s the first thing Alexi’s eyes fall on as he wanders closer. His presence making me nervous like it used to, and I know all of this is psychological on my part.

I’m a goddamn mess.

He doesn’t say anything, just picks up the bracelet and examines it before dropping it back on the table carefully, my eyes following it as he does so.

“We will get it fixed when we get home. If you still want it that is?” It’s a boyish, hurt statement uttered sulkily and I sigh at him heavily, despite all my inner angst. I’m a little less crazy after having some headspace and not really looking for a cat fight with him. His manner eats away at me, softening some of my iciness.

“Don’t be like that. Of course, I want it. Stop being a dumb arse.” I glance his way, trying to be less hostile than I was, aware that yes, he is maybe hurting, and I should say I’m sorry, but I just can’t. I feel like he trapped me somehow, even if it was my idea. I can’t shake that.

He looks away from me to the side of the room, tensing his jaw and I can’t tell if he is mad or just upset. I guess he will be worse when I tell him I’m not coming. I just can’t face going outside and touring a casino when my brain is in lockdown and telling me to run away.

“Look just go to your thing. I’m hungover and not in the best frame of mind. I’ll be here when you get back. I just need some quiet and space to think about all of this.” I sound confident but my voice wavers over the last words, knowing full well he will react badly. He snaps his eyes back to me and glares with that terrifying Devil Alexi look.

Here we go.

I lose all courage and hate that my nerves fritter back to that feeble mess he used to lord over. I’m doing this to myself and it’s only adding to my fear that things are now going to change. I’m sliding backwards and all those feelings for him I was overcoming are grabbing me tight and pulling me under.

“Hell, No! You are coming, even if I have to drag you there kicking and screaming.” He snaps at me and I blink to stop the sudden wash of mist that clouds my vision with surprise tears. Close to emotionally breaking because I’m in a weird, fragile mood. Defences igniting and doing what they do to shield me. They make me mad.

It’s not a sweet request but a fucking command and like good old Cam and Lexi, my rage ignites at him thinking he can tell me what to do.

“Fuck off. I’m staying put. You can’t do shit about it; you don’t own me, so stop acting like you do!” I snap right back at him, verbalising that internal issue in my fury; anger meeting anger and our eyes lock on target. Fire in their depths.

“Watch me.” It’s that low husky growl that used to put the fear of God into me when he used it in the past, but I just lift my chin higher as I rise elegantly from the couch and walk around it to head back to my room. Completely faking bravado as my insides melt like goo, but I’ll be damned if he’ll see me afraid of him, ever again.

“Be a good boy and toddle off, I’m hungover and tired and will take a nap while you go see your boring casino.” I pat myself on the back at the deliverance of my haughty put-down, despite feeling far from sassy. Putting on my mask and hiding the real me from him at this moment. Everything changing in my head and I saunter off barefoot towards the bedroom with the confidence I no longer feel.

I just need to not be around him until I get my shit in order. I’m afraid of him all over again and it’s eating me inside out. I can feel his metaphorical collar around my neck, choking me slowly.

I squeak in surprise when the bastard hooks me from behind by the wrist, tugs me so hard I spin towards him, catching my breath, and in the blink of an eye end up over his shoulder in a very unladylike fashion. So fast I can’t even counteract it.

I start fighting, of course, pulling at his shirt and pushing his head so he will let me go but he doesn’t. Squealing, fighting, slapping his muscular shoulder because I hate being restrained and carried about and was already in that mode of uncooperative battling.

He just wraps an arm around my legs so I can’t move them, smacks me hard on my arse so that the noise echoes the room, only muffled by my cry of ‘ouch’ loudly in his ear; then he almost drops me when he bends down to retrieve my shoes. It has the same effect as completely shackling me. I can hardly move from my position and hitting him only hurts my hands.

“Put me down, dickhead.” I squawk at him, but he just bumps me higher over his shoulder, bouncing my groin on bone and muscle that’s really uncomfortable and I ‘ooft’ with the feeling. He spins me around towards the door and strides purposefully towards the exit. Ignoring my protests and treating me exactly like I’m now his to own and possess.

“I swear to God, Alexi. You put me down this instant or I will scream all the way down the foyer and get you arrested. This is not fucking acceptable!” I’m hysterical, voice rasping my throat painfully and still trying to use my fingers to prise his arm off my legs. I can barely reach it from this angle.

“I’m not against knocking you out, baby.” It’s a snarl, even if he does call me baby, and I gawp in open-mouthed disbelief. That cold sweep of genuine terror as I doubt his words.

All my fears falling into place and this is exactly what I would expect of the arsehole I worked for a year ago. Marriage and its chains binding me to a prick I no longer like. The change I was expecting. Lord and master. Sadist and ruler. Cruel and cold.

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“Didn’t you say that about me carrying you and look, here we are.” He pats my arse again with my shoes this time and I lean over as far as I can and smack him hard on his own butt, which is moving below me as we walk. Determined to maim him and fight to the last. Alexi doesn’t even flinch and my palm stings with the after-effects.

I fought my way out of hell once before; I left Rick … I won’t be owned!

“Fuck you,” I spit venomously, and try to push myself off, to no avail. He’s striding purposely and I’m in a grip that is more on par with a superhero than a mere mortal.

“Anyway, do you really think the hotel security will intervene in a newlywed tiff? I mean, they’re family.” He chuckles this time, not an evil enjoying my pain kind of laugh, but genuinely amused, and it just confuses me even more. I curb the urge to slap him over the head as we make our way down the hall to the lift that comes up to the penthouse floor. Anger flooding me and replacing inner angst. Rage bubbling from inside of me that this shithead thinks he can do with me as he pleases, and that self-preservation of Camilla Walters kicks in massively. I’m burning up with the fire consuming me.

“So much for being a changed man! You’re the same controlling shithead who tied me to a fucking cross!” It’s all I have to throw at him, still wriggling and trying to break free, but he just tightens his grip until it hurts me enough that I stop. He is still a bastard under all that charm.

“London, if I didn’t love you, I would have choked you until you passed out to avoid the agro.”

“Fuck you, fuck you. FUCK YOU!!!” I yell it at him, purposely leaning as near to his ear as I can to deafen him with screeches, and he leans away slightly, a furrow to his brow as I obviously injure his eardrum. It’s all I have.

“Do not make me silence you. You won’t like it.” It’s not really said in a snarling way. No growl, no evil intent. It’s more of a sigh and an ‘I’m fed up’ passive-aggressive remark.

“Don’t make fucking threats or I will be gone as soon as you put me down, wanker. I’m not afraid of you.” It’s a lie, tears biting at my eyes and determination not to show him that’s exactly what I am right now. Lost in the past mentally and everything blurring together insanely. My chest is constricting so much, my lungs are burning with the effort to breathe and I feel like I’m escalating to a point where breath will no longer be possible. My heart ripping through my rib cage as it pounds mercilessly against it. It physically hurts.