The Carrero Contract - Selling Your Soul (Mafia Romance)

Chapter 15: 15

I try to kick and lash out but my dress is too restricting and his fat body pounding mine against the wall as he tries to get his hard dick against me is stopping me from freely moving. He’s yanking at his trousers trying to free himself before he takes another try at my dress.

It seems he isn’t happy with our position and once again bodily mauls me. He drags me with him in frustration and throws me against the countertop, so I fall back on it, my legs kicking up automatically and I know that is what he was hoping for. A better way to get my dress up and knickers off; he grabs one ankle as I try to make a dash to get down, and he pulls me around effortlessly.

The sliding marble counter against a satin dress just made me more manageable, and he has the upper hand, putting his body between my legs as I slap out and try like crazy to fight him off. He’s all over me like a leach or an octopus with endless hands and a sucker like grip on me and I scratch and gauge as hard as I can while gritting my teeth and aiming all my aggression at him.

I will not let him do this to me.

I manage to pull myself further up somehow so my back slides up the mirror and my arse is perched over a sink which gives me a little unusual leverage, my knees nearer his front than around him as my dress is too tight for him to yank them open without getting it up first. I try to drag them round to push him off and aim a bite at the hand on my wrist, scratching my nails down his face desperately and aiming for his eyeballs. I have no scruples in a fight and will use any dirty method or trick to win. I have had enough cat fights in my life to learn there are a million ways to gauge, maim or injure an opponent with minimal effort.

I’m rendered dazed as a slap catches me out of nowhere and I’m thrown sideways, bashing my head into the tiled wall before slumping down on top of the sink below me. I somehow end up face down in a weird position for a second, disorientated with the impact; momentarily knocked for six as I try to get

my wits back about me. He’s pulling my dress up from behind this time and pulls me bodily to him making it very clear he will fuck me from behind as soon as he gets access but I won’t give in.

This right here is a huge trigger in itself. I cannot be taken from behind. Panic and fear envelop me like a red haze. Adrenaline spikes, fury and self-preservation and sudden strength bursts from nowhere; spinning on the slippery counter top to face the little prick I claw at his face again aiming for his eyes fully and digging my nails into them with a venomous effort.

Hallelujah for sharp acrylic nails and their freakish strength and durability. He lets out a roar of pain and punches me square in the face in a bid to stop my assault, knocking me back but it’s a feeble hit this time and it only serves to fuel my rage.

In the seconds of his moving back I scramble myself upright into the sitting position once more. Spitting blood out of my mouth I use my back against the mirror behind me to bodily push him as hard as I can this time, putting everything I have behind this one almighty shove; levering my knees until I get my feet on his torso and use both hands and feet with all my might and hope my stiletto stabs him in the process.

I push with every ounce of strength and speed I have, aiming to both get him off me and damage whatever ribs he has behind that chubby torso in the process.

He falls back hitting the toilet door dramatically with a loud thud as it swings open behind him, and he tips over in a drunken slump over the toilet bowl backwards. That gives me a chance to get free.

His body dumped like a sack into an ungraceful heap as he lets out a muffled moan and I see my escape.

Grabbing my bag, realising he’s ripped my dress as it flaps in front of my breast, exposing a strapless red bra. I hitch it up, jump down and run for the door like a bat out of hell. No hesitation in getting out of

here like lightning. I am an expert in running away in high shoes, even if I end up breaking an ankle and I can hyperventilate and freak out when I am miles away from this creep.

Opening the main door in a complete panic, hot liquid running down my face while one of my eye sockets burn painfully and gasping for air; it feels like my face is swelling with heat and pain but it’s the least of my problems right now. Belongs to (N)ôvel/Drama.Org.

I am intent on just fleeing the scene, and as I do so, I run smack bang into the wall of warm hardness, unshakeable muscle with both shock and disastrous results, known as Alexi Carrero. I literally fall back into the bathroom onto my arse with a dramatic thud that sends me sliding into the wall behind in the most ungraceful way ever.

Winded, rendered immobile and completely speechless. I can only gawp at him from down here. He looks at me utterly surprised through the open door and then up and past me as Demagio comes thundering after me clumsily and freezes like a statue as soon as he sees Alexi staring back at him.

Summarising very quickly what he is seeing, his face hardens into an unmistakable scowl. I can’t catch my breath, blood filling my mouth and running down my face. I have a bloody nose and a bust lip from what I can feel and every part of my head is starting to throb. My hair falling in my eyes from my updo and I know it must be obvious what just went down here.

Alexi is quick on the uptake, even on a slow day, and I sure as hell never did this to myself. My dress is ripped in several places, I probably look like I just climbed through some hedges and I certainly didn’t deliberately add a bloody mess to my makeup for added ‘’vavoom.’’

‘’Alexi … I swear she came onto me and …’’ Demagio is back tracking, stuttering and stammering with fear.

Fucking lying little prick!

Finally, the guy has the sense to realise what he has done as I sit on the floor just trying to get my wits back and myself into some sort of sitting position. Not easy when your dress is like a second skin. I can’t move really.

Dizzy, winded and aching all over as it all catches up with me in one painful moment. This is going to hurt like hell in the morning. Alexi doesn’t say a word, his face returning to cool and blank. Eerily he just steps towards me, bends and catches me by the waist with both of his strong hands to pull me up into his abdomen and cradles my face with one of them, tilting my chin as he scans all of me with a completely unreadable expression.

He gives nothing away to how he is going to react. He is in that ‘’show nothing’’ mode and I just tremble under his scrutiny, relieved that he has intervened. It’s weirdly gentle and even though I can’t stand him any other day of the week, right now I suddenly feel safe in his arms. Like I know it’s over, and he won’t let anything else happen to me—it completely confuses me.

No man has ever made me feel safe, especially not one like him, who probably has the capabilities to do a hell of a lot more damage than most. Yet standing in the crook of his arm, under his protection, I know Demagio has no chance in hell of touching me again, and he’s not about to flip out at me for this either.

We are in the female toilets; it’s obvious who followed who in this and a bloody nose doesn’t normally follow something consensual. Alexi isn’t stupid by any means.

“You laid hands on her … on my woman; on my property?” He says it so calmly and slowly it puts the fear of God into me, his eyes trained on me, not breaking eye contact and I just stand completely frozen, with my breath held as my body turns to liquid in his embrace. His focus is clouding over as his grey eyes darken slightly and the tiny tensing of a muscle in his jaw are the only hints of his rage building underneath his mask. It’s not aimed at me but even I begin trembling.

It’s his sinister low and even tone of inevitable psycho.

Jesus Christ. Demagio is going to get it now.

‘’Alexi, I’m drunk and stupid and … I thought it was what she wanted. She kept teasing me and giving me come-ons …’’ Demagio sounds like he’s about to cry and I cannot tear my eyes away from the soulless greys keeping me rooted to the spot. Alexi is giving nothing away, just so steady and in control and that’s what is most unnerving. His eyes on mine, and he has me mesmerised in a trance of unease.

The withering mess of man behind me is proof that Alexi’s reputation isn’t just a myth. If the man claiming to have known him a long time having a mental breakdown is anything to go by.

I swear he has started bubbling and out of the corner of my eyes I see him drop to his knees to beg. I catch a glimpse of black from the corner of my eye as one of Alexi’s men appears behind him, and he finally looks away from me, breaking his spell but keeping me up close against him protectively. My body shaking and clinging to him for support even though on any normal day of the week I would not be getting up close and personal for anything!

‘’Take Marcus outside; I’ll be a minute. I want to talk to him.’’ He moves me aside, hand still around my waist keeping me pinned to him, so he holds my full weight, still cradling my jaw with a gentle hand and doesn’t react when the man sweeps past us at speed.

Demagio is still stammering apologies and avoiding looking my way. Alexi’s men are practically dragging him as he offers no resistance. Begging like a little bitch to be spared.

I hope Alexi kicks the utter shit out of him and cuts off his balls.

The last black suit follows, and I can hear the voices stray further down the corridor until they are hushed tones in the distance and Demagio’s begging whiny tone is barely audible. I have no idea what he’s going to do but I can guarantee it won’t happen in the opera house, so publicly. He will have him removed somewhere private instead and deal with him in his own time.

Alexi lets go of my face and puts his hand into his inner pocket, bringing out a white folded handkerchief and presses it to my mouth firmly, stemming the blood that was making its way down my chin. I lift my hand impulsively, to cover it, and hold it instead.

His hand underneath mine feels different, even though it’s not the first time we have had physical contact, somehow the intimacy of this pose and what just happened has me feeling out of whack, and his touch right now is doing weird things to my nerves.

He is calming me effortlessly, soothing me, and we just seem to stand for a moment locked in a gaze before he says anything. It’s almost as though everything else fades out and all I am aware of in this second is his close proximity and those eyes reaching deep into my soul.

‘‘Here. Compose yourself and fix your appearance, I’ll be outside. Take your time, as much as you need. I’ll wait.’’ He says it so softly, so non-Alexi and I melt with some weird relief that he’s not angry at me and being weirdly human and warm. I feel like we are in another dimension, to be honest. One where Mr Emotionless has a hint of gentleness and care and instead of hating on him I suddenly want to curl up against him and let him make it all better.