The Carrero Contract - Selling Your Soul (Mafia Romance)

Chapter 120

I walk into the office where Alexi has been holed up for hours and rap on the door as I enter to get his attention. Dressed in another tight jersey dress today, this one is long sleeved and stretchy, black to match my mood and broken up with a gold belt that matches my killer heel shoes. I’m in sleek chic and not been in a very merry frame of mind all day. I feel like I have been tugging along a looming black cloud everywhere I go since last night, and I am just simmering with hostile energy.

‘What is it?’ He doesn’t rip his eyes away from his laptop as he types, just keeps on with whatever he is doing, and I linger by the door. Mildly annoyed that he doesn’t even give me a look to acknowledge me properly, seeing as this is the first I have seen him today. He has been holed up out of my way and sending moody vibes through the whole building from afar. It feels like everyone has been tiptoeing around, and I am pretty sure he is the cause. A look or a ‘hey’ would have been bloody polite, to say the least!

He’s in a white shirt opened at the neck, no tie, and from here I can’t tell what trousers he has on but I assume they are grey, like the jacket he has hanging over the back of his chair with a tie peeking out the breast pocket. His sleeves are rolled up exposing all that delicious black ink that I tear my eyes away from and just stare at the top of his head. He is radiating stressed and harassed today and it’s almost deafening in the surrounding atmosphere; Perfect timing to aggravate him a lot then.

‘I thought I better let you know that I am taking tomorrow off—All day—I won’t be down for the evening, but I have briefed my pale comparison on her duties, and trust Jones to be my eyes for the night.’ I answer blandly, sighing at my own heavy mood, weighed down today by some weird sullen emotions that have had me on the verge of tears multiple times over the stupidest crap today already; May as well share the joy with a deserving tosser.

My statement certainly catches his attention and he lifts those stormy eyes, hinting at a more than a headache of a day with a strained expression on his face, to stare at me coldly.

‘Why aren’t you working it? We only opened last night!’ There is definite annoyance in his tone but I just shrug nonchalantly, giving not a care. Not in the mood for his shit after leaving me cold last night. He was a complete blank arsehole after the Tyler incident and avoided me for the duration, before slinking off to bed before the doors closed. He was up before me this morning too, so we missed each other completely. If I didn’t know better I would think he was avoiding me.

‘I’m just not. I need a day to myself and you’re not staying upstairs either. I want to be left in peace.’ I point out and raise a brow as if to dare him to challenge me on this. It is one day a year I don’t like people near me.

‘Why? What’s so special about it?’ Alexi the bloodhound, sniffing on a tiny bit of Intel, and being typically nosy and controlling. I should have known this would turn into the Spanish Inquisition. My irritation rises up inside hotly and I push down the urge to just turn and walk off.

‘It’s a need to know, and you don’t. I’m off for an hour to get my nails touched up. I broke one last night opening an overly secure Whisky bottle.’ I automatically glance at my broken tip and turn to go, dismissing him airily with a quick empty smile. Not about to defend my decision.

‘You can’t have the day off if you don’t tell me what it’s for,’ he snaps, halting me in my tracks, and my skin bristles all over as that annoyance turns to simmering bad mood.

Fuck’s sake.

‘Maybe I have a date.’ I throw him a poisonous smirk, and he just immediately tenses all over. His large shoulders the most noticeable visually and that deep sense of smug cools my jets a little.

Poke, poke, poke, little bear.

‘Then no … You’re working.’ Closed off, cold tone and eyes back on his screen like he’s dismissing me with no further conversation. I know it’s because he thinks it’s about seeing another man—he’s soProperty of Nô)(velDr(a)ma.Org.

transparent and it’s almost bloody laughable.

‘Partner … Not boss. I don’t even need to tell you, but I was being polite. It was not a request but merely an announcement.’ I answer him calmly, equally cool toned with hints of stubborn interlaced. Digging my heels in, frowning at him, and not about to take any of his nonsense. He can’t tell me what to do anymore and he needs reminding constantly of that.

Alexi taps his thumb on the table beside his keyboard, his little tell when he’s simmering or trying to think up a way to handle the current situation. It’s satisfying to watch him squirm anyway, and I rest back against the door frame casually to see how much more I can prod and push him before I go. It’s the only fun I may get today.

‘You think ditching work to go fuck about is professional? Men over money? Maybe I hired the wrong girl and had a higher opinion of you than I should have!’ It’s an insult and a way to get me to bite, and despite knowing this, it really gets under my skin more than I should let it. I know he pulls this stuff out for a reaction and his words are his biggest weapon. I know he only uses what he knows will wound to truly piss you off to the maximum, but still. I bloody snap. No one cares more about this club than me.

How fucking dare he!

‘It’s my birthday!!!! … I like to spend it locked away from the world and curse out the bitch who blessed me with life. OKAY? Not a fucking date.’ I retort angrily, nerve endings tingling with my fiery anger, falling for his BS and giving him the info he was angling for, but I am not working on the one day a year I allow myself to sit in a dark depression and hate myself for ever being born.

Alexi just looks at me silently for a long, infuriatingly unreadable moment, completely devoid of human emotion.

‘Fine … Get Joanne to cover you. ’ He dismisses everything in his previous tone, with disinterest now that he has the answer, and it makes me want to choke him all the more; Manipulating shit head.

‘That was the plan before you decided to be an arse about it,’ I snap childishly, and he just sighs at me. All his bad mood taking a turn and he puts on a reasonable face.

‘I understand the birthday thing … it’s just another day. Wish Gino would catch on to that and give it a rest.’ He seems pensive for a moment, and even though I am getting vibes of serious and could probably dig for info on why he feels that way about his, smart mouth wins over. He has me riled in an already crappy mood and I am juvenile for shits and giggles.

‘Is it because you have to share and it’s not all about Alexi?’ I droll sarcastically, eyes all intent on looking smart arse and I raise a haughty brow.

Alexi’s natural growly face falls immediately, followed by a fed-up sigh that instantly makes me feel a tiny bit remorseful. I don’t get why he always makes me feel this combative, he just does. He shakes his head and goes back to his screen with that tell-tale sulky boy attitude and wounded expression that gets me right in the chest. Something in his demeanour that gnaws at me, tugs right at my heart strings for a moment and I hate that he makes me feel this way.

‘There’s no man … There never was. You are more than enough male in one lifetime to be dealing with, Carrero. I haven’t got the stamina to put up with drama from any other arseholes in my life. Have a nice day.’ I roll my eyes at my own dumb weakness and turn on my heel to walk away, not waiting for retaliation or even a reaction, and feeling completely stupid for telling him the truth and losing that tiny annoyance in his day. It’s such a dumb move and no doubt one I will regret later.

I don’t know why I am all soft and caring about his mood after he’s been an ignorant prick but here it is. Alexi’s getting into my head and messing me up without even trying. I am obviously just having a very off day and should go back to bed.

Jackson is waiting patiently outside the door for me and I slide my arm into his as I meet up with him, instant calm and soothing warmth to pick me up out of my dark hovel and set me up for a brighter day

ahead.

This past couple of weeks I have grown a little fond of my gentle giant, and much like I summarised from the start … he’s like a loyal puppy dog who will happily bounce along for a little affection. I don’t have to flirt or make eyes at him. I just have to be nice, treat him with respect, and he is more than willing to oblige.

Alexi would probably hate how easily I have wrapped him around my little finger, but I feel safe with Jackson. He’s a sort of big bear protector with a heart.

‘Nail salon, Miss Camilla? He smiles my way, his use of the title and name is just part of his charm, and he has called me it from day one. I like it, makes me feel like a very precious lady.

‘Yes, then we can stop off for that sorbet you like on the way back. I fancy something to cool me down in today’s heat.’ I smile widely at that little dimpled face of his and resist the urge to poke him in his pudgy cheek. Alexi would have a shit fit if he knew one of his deadly henchmen was my adorable lap dog.

He gets that excited look that would translate to a wagging tail and I can’t help the little warm fuzzy feeling it gives me to put a smile on his face. He’s been my sort of stand-in Mico when they were absent, and I would dare to say, I would be sad not to see Jackson in my day now that I am used to him being my shadow. He’s not the brightest of men, but fiercely loyal to his wife and loves nothing more than talking all about how much he adores her and his family.

I am starting to realise that Carrero men break the mould, and I just wonder where it all went wrong with Alexi.

I am also aware how the girl who always kept people at arm’s length, and never trusted any man, has now got rather warm affection for at least two Carrero men and a debatable something for their angry master.

* * *

I wake up on the morning of my birthday in a pre-decided crappy mood. It started before I got into bed, and although I shouldn’t put so much emphasis on one shitty day a year, I can’t help it. It’s not just my birthday, it’s the day she let that bastard do what he did to me and changed my entire life. That fateful day aged eleven years old, that day my mother really lost her right to call herself that, once and for all.

So I am in no mood to really celebrate the anniversary of the death of my innocence in any way, shape or form. It’s a bad memory from a dark place and one I wish would just bypass without my knowledge.

I get up and head straight for the shower so as not to ponder on it, dragging my arse in that same crappy frame of mind from yesterday, already overshadowed with my own cloud of doom and gloom. I have plans to keep myself occupied all day—Shower, food, take my time getting ready, then I have a couple of hours to vegetate in front of a shitty bunch of soppy films and drink my sorrows out till lunch. I might go do some retail therapy if I want to go out, but basically, I want a day of nothing but me time; Sad time to get it out of my system and then get through until tomorrow, to ignore it all again for another year.

I take forever in the shower. It’s around ten a.m. as I tried to sleep as late as I could, but my body kept waking me. At one point I could have sworn I smelled Alexi’s aftershave but that’s ridiculous. He didn’t even stay here last night at all, and it was early hours of the morning at a time the club was shut. He left around eight and never came back to the club, so it couldn’t have been him up here for anything. I came to bed myself before midnight, in a bid to be done with this day before it even began, and left Joanne to watch the floor seeing as that’s what she is there for.

I wrap myself in a robe and pad out to my room to get dried and dressed, opting for sweats and a t-shirt today. I’ll change later if I decide to go out, but for now, I want a break from being Camilla. I just want to

be no one—a kid who never had to worry about her appearance or her manners or her persona. Just a little girl who used to love climbing trees and watching the world go by.

I used to pretend I was an invisible ghost, high up in my place among the leaves where nothing could touch me or see me, and I want to go back to that feeling for the next twelve hours … disappearing for a day with no one expecting anything from her.

I used to be so fearless of the heights I would climb to. It was my escape for when my mother was on a comedown and rattling from withdrawals, or when Rick was looking for me.

I stopped climbing those trees after I turned eleven.

I wander into the living room, feeling sombre, my head trying to blot out the things it wants to think about, but my mood is that of fatigue and emotional exhaustion. This always happens on this day. My brain is unable to shut it off or think about anything else, but at the same time swirls round and round combatting the memories, so I don’t let them seep in and drag me into tearful despair. She is always in the forefront as I strike off another year, whether I want to see her in my mind’s eye or not—like a bad smell that lingers.

Did I love my mother?

I think in some ways I did once, a long time ago. That desperate sad child who just longed for her own mother’s approval and affection because she never gave it to me. I know there must be some kind of syndrome name for a stupid loyal attachment to someone who continually abuses you, and no doubt most would point it at how I feel about Alexi and shake their head in disappointment.

She hit me and cursed me out as far back as I can remember. The first memory I have of her really, is standing in a soiled nappy, holding a dirty blanket as comfort and feeling cold. I don’t even remember what age I was, only that my stomach hurt and I was sobbing and reaching for her in so much despair. I walked across the bare wooden floor of what I assume was the flat we spent our lives in and I

remember saying ‘Mummy, Mummy’ and just wanting some sort of human affection. The bitch kicked me halfway across that room and told me to shut the fuck up.

That is how I remember my mother.

Always quick to violence, always quick to push me away, always quick to destroy me in any way she could. Her scars on me are not physical … but they are here, always on me like dirty marks. She set the tone for my lack of self-worth.