Chapter 5

The proceeding day, once again, before Lola is even up Carlos is gone. As the warm water sprays generously onto her, she finds herself feeling slightly lighter than yesterday. Maybe it’s the promise of his that he would take into consideration her request to be set free a little or maybe it’s because she knows he won’t harm her, but today for some reason things don’t seem so bad. She’s thought about it, over and over again and finally concluded that although Carlos is a bad person-he hasn’t done anything bad to her. And perhaps, if she complies with him a little more, he won’t.
With that thought in mind, she decides on tonight’s dinner menu. After all, if there’s anything she’s learnt in life, it’s that food can solve (almost) everything.

Meanwhile Carlos is in his office, unable to concentrate on the spreadsheets before him. All he sees are those pleading Bambi eyes, begging for him to stop the torture. If Bambi herself had any idea as to what they do to him, she’d be out of the door before his scrambled brain could even process it. It’s a good thing, the façade he’s perfected after so many years is so strong. Too bad the same cannot be said for his morals, conscience, and heart. With his heavy head dropping into his wide palms, he lets out a small frustrated groan, wondering what on earth he can do to help her without seeming like he is.

                                    *****

That evening he’s fully prepared for another battle, but as soon as he steps inside his apartment he’s assaulted with the scent of pizza. But not just pizza, garlic bread too. His stomach appreciatively gurgles gently at that and he gazes around the room wildly to find the one responsible.

As the silver fridge door shuts, she’s revealed to him and like a deer caught in headlights she just blinks at him. Equally surprised by the lack of hostility in her eyes, he blinks back at her.
“Er…Hi,” she mumbles, “I-I…made dinner.”
Her cheeks tinge a delicate shade of pink and Carlos has to reframe himself from striding over there and kissing her adorably cute face.
“I can smell that…it smells good,” he replies.

Lola smiles back at him-a rare sight that has him loosening his tie, setting down his suitcase and making his way over there.

He takes a seat, watching silently as she starts preparing a salad, the movement causing the faded blue men’s shirt to slip slightly to the side and reveal a plain black bra strap. Even that tiny, innocent reveal of flesh, has Carlos wanting her again.
“So…how was your day?” she casually asks.

Carlos almost does a double take. What on earth is going on? What the hell happened to the little devil he was dealing with yesterday?
“What are you up to Miss Beaumont? Why comply now? Your situation has not changed, so what has?”
She gives him her wide eyed gaze, which is just a fraction too wide for him to believe the innocence in the action.
“Nothing.”
His eyes narrow, “and yet I fail to believe that.”

She sighs, placing down the knife and making her way to his side. He swivels around to face her, as her shoulders roll back and she tilts her head ever so slightly up.
“I can be compliant Carlos. I can follow your rules and I’ll do it, even with a smile but I want some more freedom.”
“You’re trying to negotiate with me?” he asks incredulously.
She simple nods stubbornly.
“Lola you keep failing to comprehend this: You have already willingly surrendered yourself to me, piccola,” he states with amusement. If he doesn’t find it funny, he’d have to find it angering and that’s something he’s trying to avoid.
She says nothing but the flame is back in her and sensing this he quenches the urge to carry on enraging her and give her some good news.
“But you’ll be pleased I kept my word, I have considered your ‘request’.”

Her eyes light up, body relaxing slightly as hope clearly flutters throughout her.
“Really?”
“Yes. You have an interview the day after tomorrow. I assume you’ll need some time to prepare so I have someone that will escort you in those matters. You can meet Taylor tomorrow morning.”

Lola’s eyes are wide in shock, her lips pulling back into a wide grin-unable to help herself.
“A job?...Wait, as what?”
“A prostitute,” he replies sarcastically.
Lola bites on her lower lip to stop any giggles escaping; she hadn’t expected the humorous retort.

“As assistant manager of a restaurant,” he gives her the real answer.
“Oh…Where?”
Honestly, Lola doesn’t care; any work in a restaurant is great. The busy atmosphere is something she loves.
“L’Anima-”
“Seriously?!” she squeals in delight.

L’Anima is one of the best Italian restaurants in the city and not just because the food and atmosphere is amazing, but also because the prices are actually affordable. She’s only managed to go there once but honestly, she’d go there every night if she could. She’s not the only one to realise what a gem it is and it’s because of that it’s always packed in there, with bookings having to be taken months in advance. Of course, when she was there she’d entertained the fantasy of working for them, even if it was a dishwasher, she wouldn’t mind; but back then, she had Café Rouge. Now though…

“But how?” she gasps, mind still reeling from this incredible feat.
“I know the owner,” he mutters.

And just like that, reality is an ice bucket of water that drowns Lola. Of course, he ‘knows’ the owner.
Exactly how many restaurant owners are involved with the mafia? Looks, like her father’s not the only one.
“Oh…”
“But that doesn’t mean it is guaranteed. You will still have to impress Joseph Bruno.”
Lola nods numbly. Holy Shit! She’s going to meet the Joseph Bruno! The guy’s a legend. Definitely one of the masters of the Italian cuisine and she gets to meet him. In real life. In the flesh. Oh God! How on earth did he get involved with Carlos and this owner of L’Anima.
“Jo-Joseph Bruno?” she echoes.
“Yes, the chef,” he nods, “so how long until dinner is ready?”
“5 minutes.”

Nodding, he raises himself off the stool and retires to his room for a quick shower.

                                                *******

That night at dinner they’re both lost in their thoughts but that doesn’t mean Carlos can’t appreciate the tangy, savoury taste of Lola’s homemade pizza and garlic bread; but he stops himself before complimenting her. He wonders what she makes of his generosity. Does she think he’s going soft? Perhaps that she can bend him to her will? Should he do something about htat?
Lola on the other hand is trying to wrap her head around accepting this job interview. On one hand, the chance to meet Joseph Bruno is an opportunity too good to miss, as is the chance of a job at one of her favourite restaurants in the world. However at what cost is she gaining these dreams? Can she morally justify this to herself? Clearly Carlos used his influence to even get her this interview and that causes an awful hollow feeling in her stomach. Only her heart wants to rationalise this. It wants to override the natural instincts of her brain that tell her Carlos is bad news. And she knows she should agree with her mind, especially based on the evidence she has, but her heart refuses to accept anyone is incapable of kindness.

“Would you really have killed my father?” she questions, breaking their vow of silence. Carlos gazes up from his food, his grey eyes turning to steel.
He sharply nods, causing Lola to suck in a breath.
“But….why?” she exhales, “I mean, rationally, dead there’s no way he’d be able to repay you your money.”
“The mob is not a bank,” he curtly answers, “the death of your father would be profitable. We would be cutting our losses and sending a message.”
“Then why take me?-”
“More profit. It causes him pain and you are useful to me-”
“How? How am I possibly useful to you, Carlos? You don’t have me stripping or selling my body, or-”
“Enough, Miss Beaumont,” he venomously hisses, the quiet tone far more powerful than a booming yelp.

Lola sighs and shakes her head; it seems she’ll never have the answers she needs to prove to herself that he’s can or cannot be redeemed. It seems she’s doomed to walk the tight-rope of uncertainty having to wait for the gust of wind to sway her to one side or the other. Only on a tight-rope there’s a clear end, maybe there is one for her situation, but so far she can’t spot it and that can only mean one thing-she’s far from it.

“Have you killed before? Cold-blooded murder I mean, not accidentally-”
“Yes,” he states cutting off her rambling.
Stunned, she blinks at him.
“When? How?”
“My first was at 14. Point blank.Gun.”
Wide, worried brown eyes search his stoic face; trying to find some sense of remorse and guilt but there is none. It remains stone-like. And Lola’s heart stutters at that, stumbling in its assessment that his humanity remains.
“Why? How? How can you just take someone’s life like that?”
To her, life is precious. It should be preserved, utilised to the fullest and spent happily.
“Death is the only true silence in this world, the only certainty-in fact.”

Her mouth parts at the profound statement. As true as it is, it’s so dark. How can anyone think like that? She just can’t understand it-understand him. And what’s more confusing is why she even wants to?

“So far. I mean, until there’re zombies or the dead start walking among us,” she points out.
The corners of his dusty pink lips tilt ever so slightly as he raises his eyebrow, “yes…so far.”

                                 *****

Carlos helps Lola with the tidying as they slip into a systematic rhythm of him washing and her drying and placing it away. As she’s drying the last plate, he slips away, striding towards him study without another word. Watching his lean, muscular back disappearing into the room, she heaves a sigh. Just how twisted is he? How far gone? Murder at 14? That’s…that’s…Lola doesn’t even have the right words to describe how sickening that is.

                        ***** 

Still that night, as she slips into her cotton pyjama trousers and vest top, she’s dwindling on the interview she has. The one she has only because of him. She can’t believe he actually listened to her! And thought about it! That in itself, she decides, warrants her gratitude. Gratitude she knows she needs to voice to him, no matter, how much she dreads it.

So, slipping out of her room, she timidly tip-toes over to the study. The room, she knows he’s in from the soft glow of light illuminated from the space at the bottom of the door frame.
Forming a fist, she gently knocks against the solid door whilst sucking in a breath and mentally preparing herself.

Carlos is surprised by the knock at his study. Obviously, it has to be Lola but he wonders wryly if this is part 2 of her inquisition. The questions she asked, he doesn’t know why he answered them. Usually silence would be his response, except today-with her. Carlos frowns at that. That isn’t good. Answering all her questions so easily isn’t safe or smart.

“Come in,” he calls to her, flipping his laptop shut and clearing his papers into the necessary doors. It won’t do having her accidentally read something she shouldn’t be either.

She shyly closes the door behind her and comes about a foot away from his desk. She wears a simply dark blue, loose tank top and pyjama trousers-completely unsexy yet Carlos can’t help wander if any more garments lie under those. He forces his mind to not focus on the hint of the curves that were a few days ago, grazing his palms. Instead he zones in on her hands wringing in front of her as a faint blush tinges her smooth cheeks.
“What is it?” he simply asks.

Clearly, there is something she wants and the sooner he hears it, the sooner she removes herself from his presence and the quicker he can regain his control.

“I-I never…thanked you,” she chokes out, “for listening to me. For considering my request and letting me out of this house.”

Her cheeks now flush furiously, as she refuses to meet his eyes. To her, it feels like she’s showing some sort of weakness and that embarrasses her. She waits for his response, expecting a sigh and some sort of dismissal; instead she hears his chair scrape back. Her spine tingles and straightens as she snaps her head up to watch him.

He prowls towards her, his tall frame fluidly slinking to come in front of her. Her eyes remain level, staring at his slowly rising and falling chest, causing her to be aware of the thundering of her own heart.
“Look at me and say it,” he states, quiet but firm as always.

On autopilot, Lola’s eyes flicker up to his handsome face, landing on his eyes. Emotion rage beneath the hard exterior he projects and it gives her the courage to say it.
“Thank you.”

Before she can take her next breath, his lips have attacked hers; holding the soft, pink flesh prisoner as he slips his tongue into her mouth. It tangles with hers, extracting a natural pattern and rhythm, over which he dominates and controls. Her palms land flat against his t-shirt clad chest, fully intending on pushing him away, only feeling the heat and sinewy muscle under there, those intentions flutter away to be replaced with the urge for more.
She knows she’s slipping and she knows she’s gone as soon as his thick arms crush her to him and his mouth latches onto a particularly sensitive spot on her throat. Her body simply melts to his skilful ministrations. She can feel his heat, his physical strength and his incredibly addictive scent; they all sink her further down into the sea she knows she’s drowning in.

A moan. A groan. A shudder.
And Carlos reaches down, taking her thick thighs in his large hands and hoisting her onto her hips. Her chest crushes against his as her nípples puckering in response to the clear bulge, fitting so perfectly into the slot she has for it.
She gasps as he jolts her against him, purposefully, shooting the sparks of desire from her core. 

Planting her onto the desk, his lips find hers again before she can protest or process anything. Slaved to the evolutionary compulsion her body has to procreate, she slips her hands under Carlos’s t-shirt. Clawing at the perfect flesh, while her ankles lock and she tilts her hips harder against his. More confident that she’s at the mercy of the high concentration of hormones coursing through her that encourages her to do this, he breaks away from their kiss, unlocking her legs from around him and grasping at the tops of her trousers. Surprisingly, he feels no underwear under there. Roughly ripping it off as she raises her hips, he discards the cloth at his feet before his fingers grip the roots of her dark locks. With a harsh tug that earns him a whimper from his beautiful prey, he silences her with his lips.
The cold exposure of her heated, wet pússy rather than bringing clarity, only brings urgency. She’s buzzing. She feels so hypersensitive and she needs him to seize the zinging energy she has sparking through her system.

“Carlos,” she whispers, head tilted slight back and eyes shuttering close.

Carlos knows. This wasn’t meant to happen. He didn’t plan on this but he can’t stop now. It would kill him if he stops now. But any decent human would. No half-decent man would take advantage of such a pretty creature like he’s doing. He’s a monster. But he craves her. He needs more. He needs everything from her.
His hands search desperately for a condom inside his desk drawer.

Please.Please.Please.

With joy and relief, they land on a small square packet and he quickly scans the expiration date on there before tearing off the packaging. Shrugging his sweats off his hips causes them to drop straight to his ankles, exposing the thick, hard arousal he hides beneath them.
Hands efficiently slide on the protection before he hoists Lola to the edge. Her fingers run through his scalp, pressing him down to join their lips in a passionate sloppy kiss. One she is first to tear away from and all because he runs his single calloused finger down her soaking, puffed pússy lips. Then all too soon, they leave the one part of her she needs them on most.

Biting her lip to suppress the groan of annoyance, Lola voices this through the sharp tug of his hair.

Carlos gives a low guttural groan as he brushes his cheek against her and shifts her hair behind her ear.
Then grasping her thighs in a vice-like grip, he positions his hips in line with hers before lunging forward and gliding smoothly into her. It’s like a hot knife through butter and Lola can feel herself getting burned by his hot knife, only it’s a slow, pleasurable burn. Familiar even. She wants to throw her head back and moan at the sensation but with one hand, he holds his head in her hands.

“I own you,” he whispers straight into her exposed ear.

His words are like ice to his fiery actions and Lola wants to scramble away. For a brief moment, she sees clarity. A moment, she should have taken to push him away but…he his hips jolt and his lips attack her sensitive spot, meaning she spirals back down into his mercy.

Firmly gripping her lower body, his pulses increase in force and speed, rocketing shudders of ecstasy throughout her building that bubble containing promises of simple, raw pleasure. Closing her eyes she grips his shoulders tight and surrenders to it, allowing herself to forget at least for a little while.

His pace increases further, hammering into her animalistically and she welcomes it. She’s as lost as he is. Succumbing to their basic desires and selfish urge to take it.

With one of his particularly strong thrusts, Lola’s bubble bursts and all the promises of ecstasy is fulfilled. A red haze of passion and pleasure burns her eyes as her body is consumed by the fire of orgasm.
Throughout her descent into madness, Carlos urges forth, the particular tight clamping of her pússy on his dí ck triggering his own release. Drawing her close, he shudders and pumps his release inside her.

Lola slowly regains her complete consciousness, her mind although exhausted spinning furiously to try and make sense of the turn of events. How the hell did saying thank you turn into sex? At which point did their clothes even come off?
Her questions cease as soon as he raises his head from the crook of her neck and unwinds his arms from her.

She feels an irrational surge of disappointment from his untangling. She closes her eyes, trying to flatten down that feeling as she softly sighs to herself.
The closure of her eyes, means she misses Carlos disposing of the condom and tugging on his sweats. Picking up her pyjama bottoms, he places it on her lap.

Hot fury swarms in her dark brown orbs and he remains passive as a shiny sheet of tears glazes over the anger. Blinking the away, Lola stands up, stumbling slightly from the ache between her legs and the overuse of her thighs. She notes with no surprise that Carlos simply does nothing and continues to watch as she indignantly tugs on her trousers.

“Your gratitude has been duly noted Miss Beaumont. Now, if there is nothing else…”

How dare he calmly dismiss her?! Lola fumes at his dirty tricks and then his passive behaviour. But she bites her tongue from rising to his jesting. She knows if she starts, those tears will slip and she refuses to let him see her breaking.

“No..No, I-…Goodnight Carlos, I hope you can sleep at night despite your conscious.”

A/n As promised, the 2 week update. Hopefully, I can make the next one on time too. So thoughts on Carlos now? x