Chapter 4
For the rest of that evening, Lola Beaumont shut herself in her room. She refused to enter the kitchen for dinner and she spent the night, repeatedly assessing her sordid situation while cursing the very moment she laid eyes on Carlos Castellano. And she curses herself for her weak state of mind, allowing him all that control over her. She curses herself for her inability to fight him. The heavy weight on her chest only gets heavier as she thinks of the way she said ‘goodbye’ to her father. All that sadness just couldn’t be contained and body-shuddering sobs escapes her, echoing straight from her broken soul to her weary physical form. Trying to suppress the haunting sound, she muffles them into her pillow, which not only absorbs those noises but also her waterfall of salty tears.
Having cried well into the early mornings of the night, Lola wakes up late into the morning with her eyes crusty and her mouth incredibly dry. Cleaning herself up, she musters up the strength to venture beyond her bedroom. Padding softly into the open plan living room, she’s surprised to find it so quiet. She pauses. Waiting for signs of life but the only thing that can be heard is the soft humming of machines. Just her then.
Exploring his shelves, Lola takes out a mug and sets about making herself a cup of coffee. Making sure to use the expensive brand he has out. Yet, even that doesn’t have the same thrill as it should. Sighing, Lola sits there on the couch, still pondering her situation.
Surely she should be relishing in the fact she can sit in a house all day watching TV, only having to cook and clean. But…how can anyone go without human contact? Love and belonging-it’s on Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. And as an extrovert herself, she craves human contact. Not the cold robot she has for a jailer. Her days used to be filled with talking to customers and taking up orders, dealing with people. It’s what she’s good at. It’s what she loves. And now, to have it all ripped from her is plain cruel. How can he expect her to live like this? To not feel the fresh sunlight on her face, take a stroll through the park-talk to people.
Lola feels the build up of tears but she quickly blinks them back. She’s done too much crying already. And if he wants her to act like a zombie then that’s exactly what she’ll do. She’ll be a mindless zombie.
She’s only vaguely aware of the front door opening as her eyes remain glued to the screen. She switched off a few hours ago. Now on the fourth season, she’s pretty sure she can predict the direction it’s going in.
Carlos frowns entering his home. He’s not sure what he was hoping, but in his ideal mind he’d hoped for the smells of rich food cooking. But that’s all in vain.
Instead she’s sat there in a near comatose state and that from one human to another has him in slight panic.
“Miss Beaumont?” he calls but gaining no response from her, he shuts off the TV.
“Lola,” he sharply inhales gaining her attention this time.
Her brown eyes snap to his, flat of emotion. But this is Lola, she can’t ever be void of emotion. It’s just that she buries it down because of him. He’s well aware of it.
“Carlos,” she replies flatly, “what?”
He simply sighs, loosening his tie.
“The agreement was dinner would be ready and waiting when I get back.”
“Was it now? And when exactly did I ‘agree’ to this?” she icily retorts.
His nostrils flare as he inhales and pinches the bridge of his nose, “when you offered yourself up to me on a silver platter, Miss Beaumont.”
Her eyebrows crinkle adorably, highlighting her disapproval. Except much to her surprise she just pouts her lips and turns away from him.
“Fine. Whatever. I’ll get you your dinner,” she mutters and already he can see the cogs in her head turning from whatever trick she has up her sleeve.
Regardless, first and foremost he needs a shower.
Nodding at her begrudging reply he informs her he will be there shortly before entering the sanctuary of his bedroom. There all pretences can be dropped.
That woman is the most infuriating person he’s ever met. Most women bend so naturally to his will-most people in fact. It’s all a matter of conveying authority and dominance. Something he’s learnt to do naturally from his father-the almighty Don Castellano. A skill paired with his charm and subtle body language would have women heeding his every word before they knew it. But Lola Beaumont….Beautiful Lola pretends she’s so immune. She’s not. He knows she’s not. Not from his lips. Not from his fingers. Not even from his heated gaze.
She just hides it well. The coy little actress. The temptress.
Carlos allows his suddenly restraining pants to drop.
Thank God, she doesn’t know the effect she has on him. And he doesn’t mean the physical arousal he has from feeling that satin silk skin and luscious wet folds of her pússy. It’s not just that but admiration. She doesn’t take his unreasonable orders lying down. She fights him and in some sick way-he’s enjoying it. Maybe that’s why he’s loosing his marbles and brought her here into his home. It would have been easier to send her elsewhere but…Why? Why has he done this to himself? He’s been asking this ever since he interfered. And asks himself it every time Lola stares at him with those Bambi eyes looking so forlorn. As much as that look makes him question his self worth, it also strengthens the resolve in him. It is a far better for her to be here with him than with Marco.
Lola plates up the carrot sticks and viola!-Dinner is complete. For Carlos that is. She’s not eating. She refuses to. Maybe it’s childish of her in some vain attempt to gain back some sort of control refuse to eat but this whole situation is childish. His demands are childish and immature. His lack of communication is childish. In short, the man is just a big child. Metaphorically speaking that is. Because physically…well, physically no one can deny Carlos Castellano is not a child. Regardless, if this child wants dinner then she’ll give him his nutritional plate, alright.
Carlos exits from his bedroom wearing just plaid pyjama bottoms and a plain red t-shirt. For a split second, as he runs his hand through his wet hair, Lola feels herself attracted to him. But not in the same sense as she does when he wears his suits. When he’s in his suit-it’s more fascination because Carlos is suits is like…like some Greek God. He’s just so celestial and out of reach, it’s like the thought of even being with him would be some fantasy. In contrast, Carlos in casual wear? Well…that certainly does make him look a whole lot more human but not any less Godly.
As he nears, Lola quickly rearranges her expression to give him a tight, overly-sweet smile.
“This is dinner?” he questions quietly anger raging behind those stone grey eyes.
“Yep. A full nutritional dinner; vegetables, bread, cheese, meat and a little bit of chocolate for dessert. Enjoy!” she chirps.
Lola expects some sort of anger towards her for it but instead, Carlos regards her calmly and collectedly, which just somehow causes Lola to be even more frustrated.
“And where is your ‘nutritional’ plate?”
She simply shrugs, taking a seat and gazing at her growing fingernails. She must scrounge for some nail clippers soon, they’re getting far too long.
“Lola?” he calls causing her to gaze up.
“I’m not hungry.”
Carlos sighs deeply, raising his tired body out of the chair and taking his plate towards the kitchen counter. Why did he expect things to just be perfect? He should just hire a cook but…the idea of employing someone to cook his dinner just doesn’t sit well for him. But Lola needs something to do. This isn’t some resort for her. So he’d thought dinner would be a menial task but a chore nonetheless. Guess that plan’s fallen flat.
As he chops and dices tomatoes and other vegetables, Lola sits there dumbfounded. She hadn’t expected him to just start cooking and without a fuss at all. But he does so quietly and efficiently. With his back to her, she’s free to openly stare at lean, built physique. Her mouth is suddenly dry at the sight of the strong stallion cooking. His wet hair gelled back from its wetness looks all the more thicker and those sinewy back muscles, trigger thoughts of that one time in her office where she’d been able to explore it all beneath her fingertips.
Her body naturally shudders with visions of a repeat, this time actually on a bed, but she quickly shuts those thoughts down. Maybe that could happen…if her morals were far looser. But as it stands-she wants nothing to do with him.
The scent of the tomato bolognese has Lola’s stomach quietly rumbling. Thankfully, it’s not loud enough to be noticeable however she quickly folds her arms across her midsection to hush it. She watches with wide, hungry eyes as he plates the spaghetti with a very generous helping of the Bolognese onto 2 plates, topping them off with a sprinkling of cheese. Grabbing some forks and knives he places them onto the breakfast bar.
The generous offering is oh so tempting, just like its maker but Lola draws the last bit of self-control she can within herself to push the plate back towards him.
“I’m not hungry,” she states juvenilely.
Carlos’s patience seems to snap at that point and she can see it from the way his whole body tenses, his nostrils flare and his eyebrows knit together in anger.
“If you continue acting like a child then you will be sent to bed. And not alone,” he threatens.
Lola gulps at the implications of that threat but she has no doubt in her mind that he would carry it out.
“I am not eating Carlos. Not until we can discuss a reasonable arrangement for me staying here-”
“ ‘Reasonable arrangement’?! My terms are very reasonable Miss Beaumont. I could have demanded so much more from you, yet I didn’t.”
“You’re caging me in, Carlos! How can you expect me to never leave this apartment? I need to work-I like to work and friends! I need people to talk to Carlos,” she yelps in exasperation before sighing and adding on the end, “please.”
He takes in those dark chocolate swirls, pleading to his humanity. He’s not a bad person. In the dark world he lives in, he tries to remind himself that but…the way Lola considers him, it makes him question himself. And that in itself brings about self-loathing.
“I will take it into consideration,” he passively informs her, incurring a glare in the process.
She snorts softly, “sure you will.”
“Eat.”
“Not hungry,” she retorts just as snappily but unfortunately her own body betrays her a gargle of protest flames from her stomach, triggering the reddening of her cheeks. But she stays strong, making no move towards the delicious looking food in front of her.
“Look at me Lola,” he states evenly, his tone naturally causing her to meet his even gaze, “I have many ways of making incompliant people comply and we both know the means that work best with you, piccola.”
Lola shudders, her breath catching as she reaches for the fork. Despite her bitterness, it tastes just as heavenly as it smells and begrudgingly Lola has to accept that Carlos does indeed know how to bend her to his will.
A/n I know it's short but it's better than nothing right? Anyway, happy V-day, single's day whatever you wanna call it. Tonight I am going to see 50 Shades of Grey and I cannot wait!! haha, so what are your V-day plans/What were they? xx