Chapter 5 Playing with Fire
508 Words
Last time Carlos had confined her, he'd nearly wrecked her in bed.
Alicia tore at her tangled hair just as the clueless boy emerged, barely wrapped in a towel.
Blushing furiously, he scratched his head. "Did I do something wrong?"
"Why aren't you hiding?!" she hissed, dread rising in her throat.
The fate of the last man who'd crossed Carlos flashed through her mind, making her eyes sting.
The two women scrambled through the cramped apartment, desperately seeking any hiding spot.
"Alicia. Get out here. Now."
Carlos' voice wasn't loud—it was lethal, vibrating through their skulls.
He glared at the defiant door before snapping.
"Rip this f*****g door off its hinges!"
He'd learn exactly who dared lay eyes on what belonged to him.
BOOM! The door shuddered under the assault, the ceiling light swinging wildly.
With their last shred of mercy, Alicia and Stella hurled the boy into the bathroom.
"Window! Now! Use my makeshift takeout rope to climb down!"
The boy gaped. Frozen.
Stella dug her nails into his arm. "You want Carlos to snap those legs like twigs?"
A deafening crash—the door gave way.
Alicia flinched just as Stella shoved her out.
Her nose smashed into a wall of muscle. A gasp escaped as iron fingers clamped her shoulders.
"Alicia."
Carlos took in her disheveled state, and something primal snapped.
"What the f**k is going on here?" he growled, shooting a death glare at his men. "Turn around—unless you want to lose your eyes!"
The bodyguards spun instantly. But it was Carlos' glacial fury that iced Alicia's veins.
She'd planned this rebellion. Dreamed of freedom. So why did guilt coil in her gut like a live wire?
Carlos looked just as unraveled—shirt misbuttoned, chest heaving, no better than her own rumpled state.
His tie hung loose, shirt buttons haphazardly fastened—several mismatched—revealing glimpses of his toned chest.
Alicia had never seen Carlos this disheveled, this utterly rattled.
"What are you doing here?" She forced steadiness into her voice, a weak bluff. "Since when do I need permission to have movie night with my bestie?"
"A *movie*?" Carlos bellowed, his voice dripping venom. "Do I look like a damn fool to you?!"
Just *look* at her!
Her shoulder peeked from her crumpled blouse, lips smeared in that just-kissed way—all bedroom-eyed and thoroughly ruined. The image of some punk feasting his eyes on her made his fingers itch to throttle her.
Rage rolled off him in waves, icy enough to make Alicia shiver. She clenched her jaw, refusing to meet his gaze—until his fingers dug into her chin with a *thud*.
"Alicia," he hissed, every syllable dripping venom, "am I not *enough* for you? You’d actually have the guts to two-time me?" His grip tightened, voice murderously quiet. "If you’re that hard up for attention, fine. I’ll give you exactly what you want when we get home."
With that, he hauled her toward the exit like a sack of rice, his grip ironclad.
- Writer
