Carlos: A Zambrano Family Novel

by Deici, Olivia

  “I understand and I get it.”

  He walked away, and for the hundredth time since he started a few months back, I was grateful I'd hired him.

  While walking to my office, I was asked a few questions here and there. Finally at my door, I opened it and closed it.

  I've been told so many times that I'm too emotionally involved with my patients. I had to laugh at that, because anyone who knew me in my personal life wouldn't believe it.

  I wasn't an emotional person.

  In my personal life, I was as cool as a frosty glass of beer. It didn't matter how hot my surroundings were. I looked like sublimating dry ice. When you had a history like mine you learned to sweep shit under the proverbial rug.

  Not the most healthy but it allowed me to function.

  I've been called a cold bitch by many, mainly by assholes I've rebuffed.

  But with my job?

  That's where I couldn't turn my emotions off. I didn't care how much I was told by my colleagues, I just couldn't do it, not as an oncologist.

  The thought that I should try and make a change into another area of practice invaded my thoughts, and not for the first time. Transitioning into different areas of practice for doctors wasn't as easy as people thought it was, however. It could involve more schooling.

  My job took a lot out of me emotionally, and I honestly had nothing to give.

  But I tried.

  Maybe I was frigid.

  The only person I let into my life was Iza. That alone was a miracle. Maybe my soul recognized hers as being equally scarred.

  My thoughts turned to how happy she was, then to the person who made her happy, and then to his brother.

  Carlos.

  Goosebumps formed on my skin.

  That man.

  I can't believe how fucking irresponsible I'd been. It's nearly become commonplace with him.

  And I wasn't irresponsible by any stretch of any imagination.

  I'd already had a one-night stand with him.

  He'd fucked me on the conference table here at the office.

  And I’d fucking run into him again after that at Oasis. When I had caught a glimpse of him, I hadn’t even acknowledged him. I’d swallowed what was left of my drink at the bar, and went to the bathroom with the intent of leaving.

  We were stuck in a cat and mouse game.

  As I’d entered the bathroom, I had looked back when I heard the lock.

  My heart had been in my throat, and when I’d seen him standing there, it had fucking wanted to leap out in the form of vomit.

  I don't do serious relationships.

  I didn't do one-night stands, either.

  I broke one rule already and I found myself reconsidering the other.

  He’d fucked me in that bathroom.

  In a fucking bathroom.

  Lucky for me, Oasis was high class and you could eat off the damn bathroom floor.

  I felt that he wanted more from me, but I couldn't.

  I just couldn't.

  I didn't want complications.

  I didn't want attachments.

  The minute I smelled that a man wanted more, I grabbed my stuff and held up the peace sign with my hand.

  I was fine and happy the way things were in my life. I wasn't going to jeopardize my heart anymore.

  It had been torn out of my chest more times than I cared to remember.

  There was nothing left of it.

  4

  Carlos

  She was like a drug.

  And I needed another hit.

  Light caramel.

  It was the color of her eyes mixed with some green, and the hue of her skin.

  The flavor of her skin.

  We were meeting at her office again to find out the latest results for Pop. As usual, I was the last to stroll in. I wasn't trying to be rude, I was just always in meetings.

  Her eyes flashed in my direction without so much as an acknowledgement as I entered the room. I murmured an apology for being late.

  It was like when we'd first come face to face just a short while back when we initially met with her over Pop’s treatment.

  We'd both been surprised to see one another after our one-night stand.

  She had seemed a bit horrified.

  And me?

  Fuck, my dick had begun sitting up straighter than a nerd in class raising his hand to answer a question the teacher hadn't finished asking yet.

  Oh, fuck yea, I'd thought then. Because since she had slipped out of my penthouse that night while I'd slept, I hadn't been able to stop thinking about her.

  With either of my heads.

  Then to have found out that her name was Caridad and not Lucy as she’d told me, had been a revelation.

  She'd later told me she’d thought Los was a fake name.

  Fucking hilarious.

  “Alright. Everyone's here now.”

  She took me out of my lascivious thoughts. I focused on her.

  Her curves were blocked by the damn doctor’s coat.

  Cari waited a minute looking at all of us, but steadily avoided me. It's as if I wasn't even there. A slow smile spread on Cari’s face as her eyes focused on Pop’s.

  “The tests came back good. Very good.”

  Mamá’s shout of relief had us grinning and smiling. My brothers and I stood and hugged, slapping each other's back. We waited to take turns to hug Pop. The relief in his eyes was telling. He'd hid from us how worried he'd been, apparently. I saw Izzy hugging and speaking to Cari. The two best friends were interrupted when Mamá took Cari into a tight hug.

  “Thank you, Dr. Zavala.”

  Cari returned her hug and whispered something into her ear that had my mom laughing and nodding. Pop stood by, waiting. He hugged Cari for long minutes, obviously overwhelmed.

  Cari had literally held our hands throughout the treatment. She’d been like a permanent member of our family.

  That thought had me choking on my saliva.

  Did I want that? Did I want her to be a permanent fixture in our lives?

  Fuck.

  We'd only had sex a handful of times- but multiple orgasms each time- and look how fucked up I was over her. I didn't even know her favorite flavor of ice cream and I was thinking about her permanence in this family.

  But I knew her favorite position.

  I smiled at that.

  Cari parted with wise words aimed at Pop. Follow-up was crucial, and we weren't one-hundred percent in the clear, but the results were cause to celebrate.

  “Cari.”

  She was at the doorframe of the conference room and my eyes caught on the end of the table where I'd fucked her. They quickly lifted back to hers, and I caught hers on that spot, too.

  “Cari.”

  My voice was forceful because I knew she was going to run. She didn't even look my way as she left the room. I couldn't reach her fast enough from where we stood at the front of the room.

  “Son of a bitch.”

  “Piss the doc off, eh, bro?”

  Apparently my muttered curse hadn't been as muted as I'd thought. I looked at Diego with a pointed stare. He got the message and didn't make further comment.

  Two could play at this game.

  I was going to wait for her until she left work this evening.

  5

  Cari

  Shut Up and Drive,

  Rihanna

  The highlight of my day was giving Alejandro the good news about his results. The remainder of it was constituted of bad news for my other patients.

  I was so damn tired today. My thoughts returned to Carlos for the upteenth time and it pissed me off.

  I didn't need this now. I lived a quiet, solitary life. I ate, I slept, and I worked, and not always in that order. When I needed a little fun, I called Iza for a girl’s night.

  What I knew about Carlos so far was that he embodied the qualities I'd dreamed of my husband having, when I was still wearing fuzzy slippers and pigtails. Those dreams died when my mo
m died, with each house I was moved to, and with each new foster parent who swore they cared about me and not the money that came along with me.

  Aside from Iza and Chris, I'd never had anyone give a shit about me.

  The thought of Chris had me gasping and grabbing the edge of my desk. I looked at the smile of the man framed on my desk. Bright crystalline eyes that were full of life, and remained forevermore shut.

  My eyes closed in pain.

  I had been unable to save him. No matter what I'd done, what I'd tried, it had been like trying to keep water in my hands. Somehow, no matter how hard and perfectly tight I held my fingers together, the water always found a way to seep through.

  Losing Chris had caused me physical pain.

  He and I had been siblings, and although we hadn't shared the bond of blood, we'd shared another bond- surviving foster care.

  My thoughts wanted to swim in that ocean, but I couldn't. Not now, and I didn't know when, either. The pain of losing Chris had only slightly lessened since he'd passed over two years ago.

  I looked at the clock and saw it was eleven at night.

  Wow. That late?

  Gathering my things, I locked the office and walked to my car. My steps were hurried, intent on getting home to my bed ASAP.

  “Do you have a death wish leaving the office this late?”

  I jumped out of my skin and turned around with my hand to my chest. I leaned against the car as my erratic heartbeat calmed its frantic staccato.

  “Jesus Christ, Carlos! Trying to cause me a heart attack!”

  My hand was still on my chest as I tried to recoup my breath. His eyes fell there for a moment before settling on my eyes again.

  “It’s eleven at night, Caridad.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Listen. There seems to be some confusion here. You’re not my damn father. You don’t have to check on me, follow me, chastise me, or hide in a parking lot waiting to leap out at me to talk about what I’m doing wrong.”

  He snorted. “Maybe I should be then, since your father didn’t show you basic survival skills of life.”

  My back snapped straighter. It just wasn’t the fucking day to pull this bullshit on me.

  “You’re fucking right. Nope. None of the assholes playing the role of father ever showed me a damn thing other than to firm up before getting slapped so it’ll hurt less.”

  I saw that I’d surprised him with my words. His eyes were wide and his mouth opened and closed, settling into a grim line. I didn’t exactly advertise my past. I wasn’t like Iza, who’d kept hers a secret for several reasons. I chose not to speak about mine because I didn’t want to revisit those memories or that life.

  Ever.

  “Cari-”

  I held my hand up.

  “Carlos, no soy una para la mierderia de machismo.”

  I wasn’t one for the bullshit of machismo, I’d told him.

  And I wasn’t.

  “No es machismo, ni soy machista. I just care about your well-being.”

  I’d snorted before he finished his sentence. Denying what I'd called him?

  “You are just as tough as Izzy was on Roman when they first met.”

  “Tougher,” I snapped.

  His look had me shifting on my feet. His eyes were too analytical for my comfort.

  “She and I are two people cut from the same cloth.”

  His measuring eyes narrowed. “No kidding. Birds of a feather.” He paused a moment. “You running from someone, too, like she was, Caridad?”

  I sputtered. Close but not quite.

  “Because if you are.” He stepped closer to me and leaned down so that our eyes were level. “I will end him.”

  I swallowed. His words threw my head into orbit. Only Chris had ever cared enough about me to protect me.

  And in the end, I couldn’t even return the favor.

  I looked away as the familiar stabbing pain pierced my soul. Shuddering, I looked back to him.

  “Where were you?”

  Mentally, not physically, is what I knew he meant.

  I looked at him again, sighing.

  “I just want to get home. It’s been a long day.”

  “You doctors work too damn much.”

  My eyes rolled heavenward.

  “When you need your doctor, the last thing you want to hear is that they clocked out at five, Carlos.”

  He crossed his arms and leaned against my car. “Everyone deserves time off.”

  My lips pursed and I looked sideways.

  “How long has it been since you took a vacation?”

  “I could be home right now. Changing into my pajamas. Getting into bed. Getting some sleep. Instead, I’m here answering useless questions that are none of your business and are purposeless.”

  Carlos didn’t move an inch. I’m not even sure he blinked.

  Nothing phased this man. He was always calm, cool, and collected.

  Except for that night.

  That night, the man before me had been as out of control with lust as I had been.

  I’d observed the Zambrano family over the course of the last several months of Alejandro’s treatment. Roman and Carlos we’re similar, personality and temperament-wise. They mirrored their father. Marco and Diego, from what I’d seen, were impulsive. Sadly, from what Iza told me, Marco had changed after the violent murder of his wife. Diego had changed after the kidnapping and presumed death of his twin sister, Daniela. There was another sister, the youngest sibling, Gabriela, who was away at college. Maria Elena was a sweet, accepting woman who loved her children with all of their faults.

  The Zambranos were a complicated bunch.

  Especially the man in front of me.

  “I’ll escort you home.”

  He stood by my car door and when I unlocked it, he opened it for me.

  “I don’t need an escort.”

  He smiled and shrugged.

  “It must be hard to see the ground with your nose so high in the air.”

  My jaw opened in shock and snapped closed. “Go home.”

  He had the nerve to laugh.

  Motherfucker.

  I was tired of this shit. There was something about him that crawled under my skin, and it wasn’t always a bad thing.

  He wasn’t an asshole.

  Seriously, he was a nice guy.

  I just don’t know what it was that bothered me about him.

  His smile was still wide. It was more of a grin, really.

  “Control.”

  “What?” I barked.

  His lips spread wider still.

  “It bothers you that you can’t control me.”

  “I am so freaking tired, Carlos. I don’t have the time or energy to pursue this useless conversation.”

  He laughed, but his eyes studied me.

  “Whatever. Waste your time. I have little of it, so I’m going home now.”

  I entered my car, closed the door and started the engine, driving off without waiting for him. When I finally pulled up to my house, I saw him pull up behind me as I waited for my garage door to open. I groaned.

  It wasn’t that I didn’t like him.

  It was because I liked him too much.

  That didn’t sit well with me.

  I pulled into my garage and closed the door behind me before he could come in through there. Two minutes after going inside, my doorbell rang. Groaning I walked to the front door and opened it.

  There he was, leaning against the adjacent wall, with an infuriating grin on display.

  “Are you just going to admire me or are you going to let me in?”

  I rolled my eyes and moved sideways to allow that ass inside.

  What the hell was I thinking?

  6

  Carlos

  Cari’s home was much like the gorgeous woman I couldn’t help but pursue. She was watching me as I surveyed the great room, arms akimbo.

  “Does it meet your expectations, sir?”

  God, she was temperamental tonigh
t.

  I fucking loved it.

  “It’s alright.”

  My lips twisted into a smirk when her jaw clenched.

  “This is one area you and Izzy differ,” I commented as I looked around.

  The laugh that she released was genuine. “Iza is a mess. We lived together for a few years. Drove me mad.”

  My laugh was deep. “I can only imagine. The few times I’ve visited her to see Roman had been an eye opener. She’s a Type A, but for some reason-”

  “It doesn’t translate to her home,” she finished for me.

  The smile on her face made her eyes glow. The green specks were brighter even from where I stood.

  “What?”

  The smile was faltering on her gorgeous face as I stood looking at her.

  “Admiring your beauty. I’m transfixed. Mi caramelo.”

  She puffed her breath out and rolled her eyes a bit.

  “I’m your caramel? Really?”

  I shrugged. “A term of endearment that is very applicable. Caramel eyes. Caramel skin. You taste like caramel.” My eyes dipped lower and when they met hers again, her cheeks were pink. “Everywhere.”

  “If you want in my pants, just say it, Carlos. No need for the…”

  “For the what?”

  Her eyes met mine. “Fake compliments.”

  “Fake? Do you think I’m lying?”

  She shrugged and uncertainty entered into her eyes.

  Maybe the alcohol had given her bold courage the night we met. She hadn't been as insecure then. She'd boldly displayed herself to me, except her upper body.

  “Who made you doubt your beauty, Caridad?”

  She stood there and crossed her arms. Guarded was an understatement to describe her. We all carried wounds from our past, whether they be from family, bad relationships, or hurtful friendships.

  Who had hurt her?

  “I don’t need to falsely compliment to get into anyone’s pants.”

  “No?” She finally met my eyes again.

  “No.”

  I took a step closer to her.

  “Not my style.”

  I took another step towards her.