The Carrero Contract - Selling Your Soul (Mafia Romance)

Chapter 7: 7

Carrero is very good at sticking to business and ignoring my wit, even if I was only half joking. However, I like that there is a chance at long-term involvement when I am no longer under his thumb per se.

I imagined this was going to be the worst kind of deal, but it's sounding sweet to me. I get to utilise what I am already good at without worrying about keeping the funds coming in at all, plus a pretty little paycheck and free housing. I just need to try and work around the details that I have no experience in and make him see how worthwhile I can be.

It’s making me nervous, anxious, but I have nothing to lose.

Maybe Mr Mob isn’t as fierce as everyone says he is. This sounds reasonable to me and so far, he seems like a bit of a kitten that just has a grumpy side. That, I can get used to, and learn to work around; maybe he just lacks a sense of humour and is a bit of a starchy pants. He has to have some flaws in his genetic makeup somewhere.

‘‘Purely a business arrangement, not quite what I was expecting, Mr Carrero.’’ I flutter my lashes his way for good measure and try not to fixate on how sculpted and kissable a mouth he has while gazing at it, but it is very, very hard. Especially after dealing with the likes of Tyler and his expectancy of a blow job every time I picked up my stash. All content © N/.ôvel/Dr/ama.Org.

The guy was a three-minute wonder under my skilled lips, thank God.

‘’Yeah well, organised crime is still a business, and I am all about profit and utilising my assets. I’ll have a designer come by this week to start going over the interiors and rooms on the second floor. I want all the extra space sectioned off into private rooms for clients' playtime and a second floor VIP lounge, themed and tailored for a variety of X-rated, plus the basement cleared for storage to free it up. I will put new security in on the office floor, and down there.’’ Back on the point and oblivious to how much I am salivating over those shoulders every time he moves a tiny inch.

‘’Lucie is not going to like that at all … ruining his little man cave and turning his shitty dive into something that outclasses him, even if it is filled with whores.’’ I point out and force myself to look around this badly decorated room rather than on mentally undressing the man across the room.

‘’Lucie does what he’s told, and now that I’m back that will be silently and with a smile. Now go get your ass upstairs while I find where he’s hiding and speak to him about my accounts. I’ll be up soon to continue our discussion over a drink in comfier surroundings.’’ The bossy tone of a man who is used to commanding people, and he wastes no effort in softening the tone.

Wait, what? No fucking me, but go upstairs and I’ll be up soon?

I know he is a man who obviously gets what he wants, and that probably means women too, but I am not a puppy he can boss around and expect obedience, especially for no reward. It riles that inner defiance in me and I eye him a touch haughtily.

‘’Upstairs?’’ I eye him up, sliding myself to standing as gracefully as I can muster, and this time he doesn’t hide the way his eyes travel up every inch of me with open appraisal once more. He isn’t shy about checking me out, and that can only work in my favour.

I think maybe he’s a fan of less modest clothing, and this one might need some riskier styling to pique his attention. I happen to like my style, so not sure I want to go to all that effort, as maintaining it will get arduous and I made a deal with myself to not change for any man ever again; even him as alluring as he is. I have no desire to dress up and dumb down just to bang Alexi.

‘’Figured if we are going to be dealing with one another through the changes of my club and trusting you with my most prized clientele, then maybe we should get better acquainted; drinks upstairs, discussion, fine details!’’ He still looks completely serious and I smile sexily. He may be saying that sex is off the table, but his eyes tell a different story when he wanders up over my body in a way which screams ‘‘I want to see you naked.’’

‘‘Maybe there’s hope for you yet,’’ I answer breathily and turn on my heel, giving him a full eyeful of a perfect wiggle as I stroll away, catching sight of Lucie trailing back in from the lift and looking like he’s about to get his arse handed to him in a paper bag.

I am not about to let Carrero think that I am a woman you leave waiting around on you like some desperado, hanging on his presence. When I get up to the apartment I get changed into my silk nightdress and robe and start getting ready for bed.

My sleeping pattern dictates that I won’t pass out until after four when I would normally be up here, but he doesn’t need to know that, and I am putting my plan B into action. I strip off my makeup and re- apply the barely there, going to bed, yet still sexy look. Sitting at my vanity and brushing out my hair before I pile it on top of my head in a carefree messy bun that takes a lot of finesse and skill.

If he thought he had an easy woman to deal with then he doesn’t know me or what he is about to come up against. I have a lot to learn about what makes him tick and a lot of tells to identify to work out the mechanics of this one, but the same goes for him. If he thinks I am a regular girl with easy to read attributes, then he has another thing coming. I never do anything just for the hell of it—I always have a plan.

My new plan is to find how he ticks and use it to my advantage. Fundamentally, most men work on the same principles, just with varying degrees of manipulation applied. If I find his buttons to push, then I will have him eating out of my palms before long. Or from between my thighs. ***

After an hour of sipping three glasses of Chardonnay, and sick to death of picking my goddamn acrylic nails, I get up in a strop and throw the bottle in the open-plan kitchen that spans a whole L shape in the corner of the apartment. Walking past the sunken lounge area and his black leather sofa, I curse him out loudly, boiling inside with the nerve of him.

I cannot abide people who leave you hanging around like your time isn’t worth shit to them. Making me wait for an age and still no goddamn sign of him.

Bloody arsehole!

I cage towards the door of my bedroom angrily as I am alerted to the main apartment door beeping with someone accessing the hand scanner on the other side and spin on my heel. Glaring furiously that he really thinks leaving me waiting on him for an hour is acceptable, and then completely baulk as he strolls in casually with some blonde bimbo on his arm.

Fury finding a path from my toes and coursing through every vein in my body. Internal rage spiking at the sight of this bull shit.

She is pouting and fluttering his way like an amateur and I swear it’s so cringey it’s almost puke worthy. I have to curb the urge to outright laugh at him and his complete balls for bringing some whore up here after having me hanging about like a dick head for the best part of the evening.

She looks cheap and nasty in a tacky red dress that leaves very little to the imagination, and I literally blink at the absolute nerve of the man. He could have had caviar and steak, and I was handing it to him on a plate—something that I don’t just do for any man, but instead he brought home some pop in the microwave cardboard meal.

I try to conceal my rage by smiling airily as our eyes lock across the room, and he smiles right back with an air of ‘’problem?’’ That I can definitely not miss. I feel like this is some sort of test or maybe he gets a kick out of goading people. If he is trying to get under my skin, he is about to learn I have claws.

It’s the first time I have seen him smile properly, all white straight teeth and annoyingly handsome. It practically changes his whole face from good looking gangster too, and I just curse him out even more. Feeling completely engulfed with burning fury bristling in my bones. I start tapping my fingernails on my

hip as I slide into a casual pose and rest my shoulder against my doorway in an act of nonchalance. I won’t let him see that he has got to me in any way, shape or form.

Strike one to you, arsehole.

‘’Go wait for me in my room.’’ He commands at her, not even looking her way, never breaking eye contact with me and I swear I catch a glimpse of something in those greys of his; a hint of devious games at play. Tramp scuttles off like a good little puppy without a mutter, straight to his bedroom door, and slinks inside before throwing me a catty ‘‘hands off!’’ look that makes me smile harder. A touch salaciously.

Are you really trying to show me who's boss? I will snap you like a twig, kitten. Do not test me, bitch.

‘’Didn’t think you were going to show, so I’m heading to bed, I’m tired.’’ I push myself off and turn to finish my walk into my bedroom with a sway, adamant I am not going to be some weak little ‘‘run after’’ like he seems to have up here with him, and I am not about to let it slide that he made me wait.

‘‘Come … have a drink with me.’’ He doesn’t even wait for my refusal; just walks off towards the kitchen completely dismissing what I said and starts pulling out glasses and bottles from the mini bar we keep stocked in here. I seriously consider saying no, and eye up the bedroom behind me with a moment of doubt.