It took about half an hour for Isaac to reach our destination. I stared out the window a little confused. He’d pulled up in front of a white-brick mansion. The garden lights flashed on the dark-brown shutters and the tall, oak door. I gripped my clutch as Isaac put the car in park and dashed around to open the door for me.
“Thanks, Isaac,” I said, stepping out cautiously. I was always taught it was rude not to make eye contact when speaking to someone, but I couldn’t help my wandering irises. This place was gigantic. And it sat on a hill near the coastline of San Francisco. The scenery was absolutely remarkable—breathtaking. Tall palm trees and a cool breeze, it was something that needed to be in a magazine.
“Have a good time, Miss Sterling,” Isaac said as he made his way back to the driver’s side. I gave him a curt nod, and he shut his door behind him. When he pulled off, I gulped and made my way to the front door.
What was this? What had Carlos planned? I had to admit, I wasn’t disappointed with what I was seeing. I was bubbling with excitement on the inside, but I had to contain it. I couldn’t reveal too much.
Before I could knock on the door, it swung open, and I swear it felt like my breath had been knocked right out of my lungs. Carlos released the doorknob and gradually slid his fingertips into his front pockets. His hair was sleek and pushed back, that one little piece dangling in his eyes. On his lips he wore a small, confident smile. I wanted to kiss those lips. I wanted to jump right on top of him. There was nothing sexier than a man in a suit. His button-down shirt revealed a small slice of his firm, tan chest, and everything else just seemed to flow together naturally.
“Mya,” Carlos murmured, tilting his head.
I gave a dumbfounded blink as my name rolled off his tongue. “Carlos,” I whispered. “I… um…”
“Shh.” His upper lip tugged up as he pulled his hand out of his pocket and reached for mine. I gave it to him without an ounce of hesitation. “You don’t have to speak if you don’t want to. I’d much rather you take it all in… let me do the talking. But first—” He pulled me into his chest, shut the door behind him, and then pressed my back against it. Lowering his gaze to my lips, he curled his fingers around my waist, and the tip of his nose slowly ran up my cheek. “I want you to forgive me.”
“Forgive you?”
“Yes. Right now. Tell me you aren’t upset about me not showing up last night.”
I glanced up at him but quickly jerked my gaze away. “I… saw who you were at the dinner with.”
“Marilyn,” he said, as if her name was just a word.
“Yes. Marilyn. I thought she was just a friend.”
“She is just a friend.”
“Seems like more than that.”
Carlos pressed his lips. “Do you believe in ‘faking it’?” he questioned.
My eyebrows stitched. “You two were faking being together?”
“Marilyn is in a relationship… and no, it isn’t with me.”
“So why were you two together for the dinner?”
“Because that’s what some people expect of us.”
I was confused. “You’re not making any sense.”
He sighed, taking a minor step back. “Marilyn and I have known each other for years now. I knew her before I took over the Montero business. I met her in Venezuela. After my father died, I had to make an agreement. I had to get here—in the U.S. The only way I could do that was if I married someone that was already a citizen. I needed an easier way to become one. She agreed.”
I blinked. “Oh.”
“But,” he breathed. “We are no longer married.”
“Why not?”
He paused. “Let’s just say some things work themselves out. I no longer needed to be married to her in order to keep my citizenship. Other options were thrown my way. Of course, the public doesn’t know that. They think we’re still married, and unfortunately, we have to keep it that way. Otherwise, it’ll ruin business. My business… and other things. Of course she still has bills and things that need to be taken care of. Because of what she did for me, I feel throwing her a few thousand a month is the least I can do.”
“Oh… I guess that makes some sense now.” But it still irks me. “Have to keep your perfect reputation, I suppose.” I bit a smile.
“Exactly,” he murmured. “Now… tell me you forgive me.” He clutched my hips, pulling my groin against his. I could feel his massiveness dangling in his pants.
“But what if I don’t?”
He cocked a brow. “Then, I guess I’ll just have to work harder.” He stepped back, and for some reason, my heart failed to beat.
“Wait… Carlos… I forgive you,” I murmured. Of course I did. I was just trying to play hard to get. His story seemed reasonable, and I knew if he were truly tired of me, he wouldn’t have invited me to, what I assumed was, his home.
He looked me over. “Don’t say it unless you mean it.”
“I do. I mean it,” I said rapidly.
After giving me a quick glance, Carlos stepped forward and hooked his arm around my waist, allowing me to feel relief. I did not like when this man didn’t touch me… not while we were around each other. I had to feel him. Always.
“Good.” He placed a kiss on the corner of my mouth.
I sighed.
He did it again, only this time, he cupped my face, kissing me a bit rougher. My lips ached, but only in the best way possible. He pressed his hardening cock against me, and I yearned for him to lift me up, wrap my legs around his waist, and sink his way inside me. I didn’t wear any panties on purpose. I needed him there again. I wanted him to take me as soon as possible, no interruptions. No blocks or barricades.
A moan rattled at the heart of my throat as Carlos gripped my face tighter and thrust himself against me. He was getting harder by the second. His kisses were becoming desperate.
“Fuck, I’ve wanted this all day,” he growled after snatching his lips away. His breaths were thick and labored, mine as well. I stared up at him, anxious to know what he would do next.
“But as I said, I want to make the lost time up to you.”
“How?”
He smiled, releasing my face. Taking my hand in his, and turning only slightly, he said, “Ven conmigo.” He squeezed my hand, and I think I nearly melted. His accent was mesmerizing, but paired with words from his native language, it was irresistible. Shit. I hoped he’d speak his native tongue while riding me.
“So… this is your place?” I asked as he led me down the corridor.
“It is.”
“Oh. You live alone?” What I really wanted to ask was if Marilyn “faked” living with him.
“I do.” Ahh… sweet relief. “But sometimes my mother visits as well as my sister. Whenever there are banquets or celebrations, they’re here.” He smiled over his shoulder, revealing his slightly crooked smile.
“That’s lovely.”
“I don’t come here every night, though. Most nights I spend at work. It gets lonely here sometimes.”
I smiled. “I bet.”
We passed by the den, rounded a corner and entered the living room. Everything was modern. There were a few antique lamps and vases on the corner tables, but it fit Carlos—the black, white, and silver. I’d never set foot in a house so dazzling.
“Right this way,” he murmured, squeezing my hand tighter and leading the way through another hallway. We took the next right, and from a distance, I could see lights flickering. Candles?
I gave a quick glance up at Carlos, but he only smiled, purposely avoiding my eyes. We reached double glass doors, and Carlos released my hand to open them. Before he could do so, my gaze pierced the paned glass, and my eyes feasted on what was waiting on the balcony.
A table for two, just like how it was at the restaurant he took me to my first night in San Francisco, only this was way more private and even more romantic. A silver candelabrum sat on the middle of the table with creamy white candles in all three throngs. Two plates were across f
rom each other, a bottle of wine on the stool next to the table, and our wine glasses already filled halfway.
“Wow, Carlos,” I breathed, taking a step forward. The scenery was out of this world. The mansion was on a hill, and beyond the hill was the cityscape. I could even see the bridge. The bay. The lights. Everything. It was breathtaking.
“This is only the start of our night,” he whispered, running his palms across my bare shoulders.
“The start? There’s more?”
“A lot more, Mya. Never think too small when it comes to me.” He kissed the crook of my neck, and I tingled. When his hand ran across my breast, I stopped it, intertwining my fingers in his. I just wanted him to take me. Although I was fascinated and intrigued to know what else he had in store, I didn’t care about it right now. It’d been well over twenty-four hours. I needed my fix of Mr. Montero.
Carlos placed his warm, damp lips on the bend of my neck again and wrapped his free arm around my waist. The hand that was on my breast squeezed lightly, and I tilted my head back. I moaned loud enough for him to hear over the gentle music flowing through the speakers.
Pulling me against him, Carlos ran his hand down to my thigh. He lifted the hem of my dress and slid his palm up the inside of my bare thigh. Once he was close to my throbbing heat, he vibrated with silent laughter. I shut my eyes as his fingers stopped right before reaching my pulsing nub.
“Carlos…” I breathed his name.
“You’ve waited long enough, huh?”
“Yes. I have.”
He chuckled deeply then ran his finger through the wet slit between my legs. “Mmm. So eager.”
My head fell back, settling in the crevice between his shoulder and neck. He had no idea what his touch did to me. I felt heated. Tempted. I was craving him. Yearning aches and need coursed through me, and I didn’t know how long I could hold on.
As if he sensed my impatience, fueled by raging desire and sheer want, Carlos murmured, “Patience, Mya. I will satisfy you. I will fill that ache. Trust me. You won’t leave here until I know you can’t take anymore.” And as if I weren’t already turned on by his words, he wrapped his hand around my throat, applying careful and gentle pressure, and growled, “I will leave you sore, Mya. So fucking sore you’ll be crawling out of this place when it’s all over.”
I swallowed thickly. His words seemed like a threat, but I knew they were far from it. Little did he know I was ready for it—absolutely terrified, but ready.
“But for now, let’s eat.” Finally releasing me, Carlos walked around to pull a chair out. I looked into his eyes, my chest sinking and rising as he looked at me beneath his eyelashes. He gestured for me to take a seat, and I did. After I pulled my chair in, he walked around to the opposite side of the table, took a seat, and picked up a small, black device. He pressed a button, and in less than a minute, a chef and a few servers stepped onto the balcony.
“We are ready, no?” the chef asked, looking from Carlos to me.
“Yes. We’re ready, Theodore. What’s for dinner tonight?”
Theodore’s chubby cheeks lifted as he turned to the cart behind him. “Well, Mr. Montero,” Theodore started, his Spanish accent quite thick, “You told me you wanted something with a little spice tonight. So I decided to make you enchiladas with my famous jalapeño pepper sauce drizzled on top.” Theodore lifted the silver top of the plate to give Carlos a look.
Carlos nodded as he examined the dish. “It looks delicious, Theodore. Serve us up.”
“Sí. Right away, Mr. Montero.” Theodore grinned, and I smiled at his excitement. He was a man that loved his job.
After the servers placed our hot plates in front of us and Theodore told us to enjoy, Carlos dismissed them politely, and we dug in. The enchiladas were amazing. I’d never had such juicy chicken. As expected, the jalapeño sauce was a bit on the spicy side, but the wine kept my mouth cool enough. I could tell Carlos was used to the flavorful heat.
“My mother used to make enchiladas all the time when I was a child. At least once a week,” Carlos said.
“Yeah? Did they taste as great as these?” I asked, after downing my chunk of food.
He winked. “Better.”
“Wow. She must be one amazing cook then.”
“Cooking has always been something she’s loved. She actually has a restaurant in Los Angeles. It’s called Maria, Maria, named after my abuelita.”
“Your grandma?”
“Correct.”
“Hmm. I’ll have to stop by there one day.” I picked up my wine just as Carlos did. I realized our plates were nearly empty, and knowing dinner was almost over actually excited me. We were getting one step closer to the final deed, but I had to keep my composure. I had to pretend I wasn’t going crazy over the idea of what was to come. “Tell me more about you…”
“What makes you think there’s more to tell?” he asked.
I gave him a dry look. “I’m sure there’s plenty I don’t know about you.”
He pressed his lips but said nothing.
“Oh, you can’t be serious? You do a little digging on me, but I can’t ask you to spill a few beans?”
His eyebrows drew together. “We aren’t here to get to know each other, Mya. I made that clear.”
“That’s bullshit,” I muttered. He cocked a brow, one that was almost intimidating enough for me to zip my lips, but I didn’t. I continued. “If that were true, you never would’ve looked into my background… my history. Or called Claire.”
His head tilted. “Are you sure it’s still history?”
I narrowed my eyes. “I’m positive.”
He fought a smile. I couldn’t stand the sight of it. “If you’re so positive then why did you go to my website for updates?”
“I—” I started to speak but immediately clamped my mouth shut when I realized the truth. Carlos’s head tilted only slightly as he waited for my response. “I was curious. That’s all.”
“You were being nosey…”
“No. I wanted to call,” I admitted.
“Then why didn’t you?”
“Because I figured you got busy. I saw those men come to your office…”
His face stiffened a little as I mentioned the men in suits. “Did they say anything to you?”
I shook my head. “No.” I was lying. They’d asked about the sushi, but that seemed pretty irrelevant.
His shoulders visibly relaxed.
“Why? Were they supposed to say something to me?”
He drummed his fingers on the table briefly then stood from his chair. He walked around the table to my side, extended his hand, and I took it with caution, staring into his warm brown eyes. “Let’s go upstairs.”
I nodded, but confusion ate away at my confidence. Maybe it was a subject that didn’t need to be explained. They obviously worked with him and all, but to be frank, I didn’t care much about his job at the moment. All I cared about was him.
This night needed to move a little bit faster.
“What’s next?” I asked, taking his hand.
He smirked. “There’s something I’d like to show you.” We stepped back inside, and he led the way down the corridor. Instead of going past the den, though, he took a quick right, and a marble staircase greeted us. At the sight of the stairs—realizing there were bedrooms up those stairs—my heart thumped against my rib cage. He said there was more… but what exactly did he mean by that?
Did he mean more as in more of him, more of his touch? More of his lips on my neck? More of his body pressed up against mine? I didn’t have much time to ponder on it. We were already making our way up.
The lights were dim as we drifted down the hallway, passing room by room. Then, finally, Carlos stopped in front of the fourth door to our right. He reached for the doorknob but paused before turning it. “Tonight is for you, Mya. This is me making things up to you,” he said, looking down at me with hooded eyes.
I blinked rapidly and nodded. “Okay…”
“
But this is still just for fun… don’t let tonight fool you. Don’t think too much of it. Sometimes I can’t help myself. I’m a man that loves to please.”
I started to ask what he meant by thinking too much, but I wasn’t given the chance. Before I could formulate the words, he leaned down and placed a chaste kiss on my lips. His were soft… perfect, smooth like silk. My chest heated as he pulled away and opened the door.
What awaited inside was something a girl could only dream of. This room… the set up… it was out of this world.
It was amazing.
The walls here a dark shade of red, a completely different contrast than the silky white sheets on the bed. A canopy surrounded the bed with curtains a deep shade of burgundy. On the east wall, a white futon bed was set up as a couch with pillows that matched the walls and rose petals tossed on top. It seemed out of place for such a decadent space, but it fit for some reason. In the middle of the room, a coffee table played host to a silver bucket, which displayed a bottle of red wine. Red… red everywhere. But I loved it, even more than usual because this kind of red fit Carlos. It fit us. This insane arrangement we’d made. The red, to me, signified promiscuity and a small hint of danger—peril for my emotions and tendencies when it came to men.
After seeing all of this and realizing Carlos had this set up just to please me, I didn’t know if I was going to be able to not think too much of this. He put thought into this… time. It was apparent he really wanted me to forgive him for his prior absence.
“This room was empty,” Carlos said, interrupting my thoughts. “The walls were white. There was only a bed in here. Nothing else.”
I stared ahead at the bay window behind the futon. “You mean… someone painted this room today?” I glanced up at him.
He nodded.
“In… one day?”
“Well one night and one morning. I had two men do it for me last night. Also had them pick up the futon, the sheets, and the rug.” Carlos’s head dipped, his face growing slightly serious. “Mya, tell me if this is too much. If so, we can just go back to your hotel—”
Control Me Page 9