Carlos' POV

I was mad. Raving mad.

How dare she?

I slammed the phone against its cradle, the sound echoing through the room like a gunshot, and stormed out of the office.

She flinched when she saw me. Irene Peters..

I knew she was fiery when I saw her. It was always easy to identify them.

But right now, whatever fire she had shown at Elysian Court had vanished, and she was back to the cowardly lady who had begged for a job.

I tightened my lips and closed the distance between us. She stood up as I neared her.

"I can explain," she offered.

I stopped. "Begin."

I saw her fidgeting with her fingers and searching for the right words.

"The lady treated me like trash just because I was dressed in faded jeans. I didn't mean to tear the dress. I stepped on it accidentally as she tried to pick it from the floor."

I could tell that she was lying.

She was perfect.

Perfect for me.

Irene Peters could keep a straight face and lie. She was a performer.

"I know I shouldn't have -"

I raised my hand, stopping her mid sentence. Then I stepped closer, close enough to catch the faint floral notes of her cheap cologne. It was maddening, how it drew me in, made me want to lean closer, and smell her every time.

"I told you to get ten free dresses," I started. "Where are they?"

She was visibly shaking. The way her eyes danced whenever I was up close to her was amusing. Whoever she was, she was an enigma.

And she had caught my attention in a way few ever did.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I caused a scene, and they threw me out."

"Threw you out?" My voice sharpened, anger flaring anew. "Did they know I was your sponsor?"

She nodded, her gaze dropping to the floor.

I grabbed her wrist and she let out a gasp in the quiet. "How could you? How could you let them ridicule you? A ridicule to you is like a ridicule to me. How could you let that happen?"

Her eyes danced with fear, and I relished it. Fear was power, and I wielded it like a blade. I tugged her toward the exit, her steps stumbling behind me.

She sat like a cornered animal in the limo, barely breathing. When the vehicle started, I placed a hand on her thigh.

She flinched.

My plan had been to calm her down but I had succeeded in frightening her more.

I took my hand off her body and reached for a flute, pouring chilled champagne, with deliberate calm and expertise, into it. I stretched the full cup towards her.

"For you."

She stared at the flute with a longing her eyes couldn't hide. But she shook her head.

"I couldn't."

"I insist."

She accepted the cup, her fingers brushing mine, took a sip, and dropped it while I watched her, a smile forming from the corner of my mouth. Then she set the flute down too quickly, as if afraid to indulge.

"Who do you think I'm angry at?" I asked her, leaning back. "You or the sales manager?"

She croaked her reply. "Me."

I folded my arms. "Why?"

"I made a mess of your reputation."

I straightened, now serious. "She made a mess of my reputation," I corrected.

The limo came to a stop outside Elysian Court and I stepped out, holding the door for her. But she took the other door, avoiding me. When she rounded the car, I grabbed her arm and pulled her close.

"Never leave me hanging when I open a door for you. Understood?"

She nodded frighteningly and I released her wrist with a shove. The last thing she wanted was to get me mad. I was already livid enough to shut Elysian Court for good.

No one had the audacity to challenge me.

The moment I stepped into the corridors of Elysian Court, whispers flew around and feet scurried away like roaches under a spotlight. My security details fanned behind me and stopped right in front of the entrance.

Irene was walking behind me, back to her frightened state.

Maybe it was better that way. My attempt to ease her in the limo had been a mistake. She had mistaken it for weakness.

The double doors of the building parted automatically and I stepped in and the store manager appeared, her face paling at my sight.

"M-Mr. Alvarez," the store manager stuttered.

I was in no mood to talk. One raise of my hand and one of my men appeared.

"A disrespect to my staff is a disrespect to me," I said, blowing hot. "This will be your last day as manager of this store. I need you to submit your resignation letter before the end of today to your boss."

She nodded without hesitation. My handyman appeared beside her.

"He'll escort you out...after you've rendered your last service. " I turned to face Irene, who was hiding a smirk. "...to my personal assistant."

"Right away, ma'am," she said, genuflecting, while I nested on one of the couches.

Irene vanished with the trembling woman and I focused on the bottle of Merlot sitting beside me. It was taking forever but when Irene stepped out in one of the dresses she had picked, she took my breath away. For a few seconds, all I did was gawk, flute midway towards my mouth.

It was more than the dress. It was the confidence she carried, the spark in her eyes. The defiance. The one I had sensed earlier, now blazing openly, with every step she took towards me. She had completely transformed from a drab nobody to someone who could capture my attention.

And she was still on that unconditioned hair.

I set my flute down and stood up, completely drawn by her presence. Now I saw her eyes, saw the sparks they carried, and even saw the defiance.

"You look...ravishing," I said.

She bowed meekly, her voice soft. "Thank you, Mr. Alvarez."

"Carlos," I responded without hesitation.

No woman had unraveled me like this in years. What was it about her? She was beneath my world, a nobody in faded jeans, yet she held my attention like a hypnotist.

"Carlos," she repeated, half smiling. "It seems you like this," she continued. "Then you'll like the rest I've bought."

Certainly. It looked like she had a good taste but was too poor to afford them.

"Leave this on," I told her, glancing at the time strapped to my wrist. "We have to go now."

I was expecting some shipment and I had to prepare for their arrival.

She nodded and walked to my side. I caught the reflection of the two of us, standing beside each other, from a show glass, her elegance matching my power.

We were like a match made in heaven.

Only that men like me didn't have soulmates. We didn't have a heart. Only control.

So I took my eyes off the reflection and started towards the exit. When we got to the car, she asked. "When will I be returning home today?"

A frown appeared on my face before I spoke. "Never. You'll live with me now."

Sara's POV

Lying on the soft plush bed didn't make the thought of seeing that sniper all so scary anymore.

If anything, I knew I was safely guarded.

It's not everyday you see a billionaire with a hired sniper.

And the cherry on top?

I had just strutted before the mirror in ten luxurious dresses, each one a masterpiece from Elysian Court. Maybe working for a mafia boss had its perks.

I was beyond thrilled. My eyes moved to the ceiling. No more the squeaky noise of Sean's fan. The ceiling had nothing but a big chandelier. One that was adorned with precious crystals..

I was sure they would fetch a fortune.

My phone buzzed beside me and I hoped it wasn't Thomas. He wasn't turning me into the canary that would serenade him to sleep now, was he?

It was Sean.

"Babe," his masculine voice filled my ear.

But his masculinity had not been able to afford me this life. Sean had been a part of my life when I was struggling. A sudden orphan with no roof above her head. He had taken me in, and maybe, in the beginning I had fallen in love. But our relationship was scarcely about love these days.

It was survival.

"When will you be back?" He continued when I didn't respond.

His question made me snort.

Back? Never.

He could enjoy the hotel room for the six days left, and hopefully, my sponsor wouldn't come knocking.

"You deal with Trey if he comes, okay?" I said, reeling with excitement.

"Deal with -? What do you mean? Where the hell are you? You promised some fun tonight."

"You'll still have some fun, Sean," I shot back. "You get the whole room to yourself. No lady would reject a man who's in a lounge. You can get one for six days or one for each day."

"Where the fuck are you?!"

I stood up and sauntered towards the welcome bottle of wine Pat had dropped before leaving, my feet soft against the warm rug lying on the floor. It had been a great joy seeing her scowl while she served me.

Now she knew my place.

I uncorked it while Sean waited for a response. He must have heard the pouring glug of the rich liquid because his tone shifted.

"You're still at Alvarez's?"

I set down the cup with a dramatic sigh. At least, in this space - my space - I can live my dream life.

"Where else would I be, Sean? In your rusty apartment?"

I could see him shaking his head and biting his lower lips. He always does that when he thinks I'm making a mistake - which I was sure is going through his mind presently.

"You're making a mistake, Sara-"

"It's Irene," I fired. "Don't ruin this for me."

"How much is he paying you to accept to stay in his house?"

About that...

I eyed the contract letter that was now resting on a table. Earlier, it had arrived with my bottle of wine. And the only fascinating thing there was the figures.

I threw my head to the head rest of the chair and crossed my leg. I could assume at night that I was actually a sore heir, having the time of her life. With a private sniper to safeguard me. A gift from my father.

"You have no idea," I purred.

"Tell me," he insisted. "We're business partners after all, aren't we?"

I shot up. "Guess."

"I expect nothing but a thousand."

I drew circles on the table with a satisfying smile plastered on my face. "You would want to add an 's' to that, Sean. Did you see the pictures I sent this afternoon?"

Of course. I couldn't relish my perfect outlook this afternoon alone. I had to send a few to Sean. If I operated a social media account - which I didn't; rule of being a successful con artist - I would have posted a few.

You either be an influencer or a con artist.

And influencers are the ones jumping off roofs daily. I'd pass.

"I see why you don't want to leave."

His tone had changed suddenly. Sean was always...Sean.

"Not like I had a choice," I said. "Carlos wants me here. And yes, he told me to address him as Carlos."

"Well, don't you dare get a Carlos baby."

I choked on the drink in my mood, spluttering.

"What's that supposed to mean.?"

"Well ...you're looking all hot and staying under his roof. It took you one night to carry Thomas's kids, didn't it?"

I rolled my eyes. "Your mouth will put you in a big mess, Sean. Why am I stuck with you?"

"I'm like that toxic boyfriend you can't leave because you love chaos."

I scoffed. "No, Sean. At this point, I'm the toxic one and you're the one who can't leave."

"You're toxic, Sara. I agree."

"Irene Peters to you, Sean."

I stood up and walked to the bed. Falling on it was like falling into clouds.

"Goodnight, Sean. Make sure you enjoy that hotel room because you won't be seeing another one until this..." I lowered my voice. "...mission is over."

"Just don't sleep with Mr. Alvarez. It always starts with calling them by their first name."

I rolled my eyes. "Just like I have you baby, Sean."

"You would never have a baby for a poor man."

"My ovaries reject poverty, Sean."

I ended the call and stared at the chandelier's prisms. And then I realised. Carlos had mentioned something about a shipment and he wasn't back home.

This was the right time to start shuffling throughout the house. Carlos was away, slicing life out of some good and bad boys. And Pat was home, sulking.

All that was left here was a watchful sniper.

He couldn't be that dangerous now, could he?

Sara's POV

The corridor was long and silent like a graveyard.

Whoever designed this house was a psycho that hated people. Because...why was my door a hundred feet away from the next door?

Seems it was a mansion with just three rooms and the main rooms were long corridors just designed to keep everyone at arms length from each other.

I scoffed annoyingly and gently closed my door.

Not that anyone would hear me.

I knew where the CCTV cameras were already. While Pat led me to my room, my eyes had caught them all.

Straightening my back, I walked confidently. I was just going to get a cup of water after concentrating my poor system with that glorious wine. Or, I was just admiring the mansion.

That wasn't a crime.

It was art.

The endless corridor led to a spiraling staircase. One part descending to the hall that I had entered the first time. And the other arm, ascending to the quarters that Carlos occupied.

I grabbed the second arm and started my ascent.

My spectacles were on. It gave the look of who had no idea of what she was doing. Maybe there was an eye condition that made up look like down. And I was suffering from it.

I laughed at my joke and kept going up the stairs. Another waste-of-money stairs later, I arrived at another corridor.

Now, this corridor was certainly Carlos' quarters. From the marbled floor to the picture frames lining it, and the bright chandeliers, everything screamed luxury. My skin prickled with desire.

I thought of the two million dollars Thomas had promised me. It couldn't get me a mansion like this - this screamed billions. But I could afford something like this.

Something mine.

I could imagine Sam chasing Sophie around.

It was a dream worth working hard for.

And that was enough motivation.

I moved, eyes straight. I saw the cameras. But I wasn't stealing. I was just looking around. No harm in discovering the place you're living in.

And I had to be quick.

Carlos' large bedroom door loomed ahead. I expected there would be a secret door that led to a secret passageway. It was like that in every goddamned bad guy story.

Carlos couldn't be any different.

I stopped before the door and knocked like I thought he was in the room.

Even though Carlos had bought me some conditioners and I had treated my fake hair, I didn't forget my signature. I tousled a handful of my fringe in my hand, waiting.

Knocked again.

"Mr. Alvarez?"

That was enough.

I pushed the door open. Not like Carlos would be going over his CCTV recording everyday. Records like that were only meant for important days.

Carlos' room was heavenly. There wasn't even a word to describe it.

And frankly? I would be willing to be Mrs. Alvarez if he could give up this room. The coolness, mixed with the fragrance, embraced me, pulled me in.

It was almost palpable.

And the bed?

Oh, father!

I wanted to touch it. Feel it. It was surely softer than mine and I wanted to know the feeling.

But the image of a nameless lady riding him on that bed threw my eyes away.

Once I had shut the door, I threw my facade away. No one puts a CCTV camera in their room. At least, not a mafia boss. He wasn't a porn star at the very least. Neither a creep.

There were endless drawers in the room. Locked.

And I had no key.

So, I moved to the table. Strewn on it were documents.

Thomas said he needed something. I was going to get him something, okay.

They were mostly receipts. Things he was buying. The receipts were in thousands. Millions.

My heart raced as I read through them.

I didn't know if they would be important for Thomas. But evidence is evidence.

I took pictures of as many as I could.

But something else called me. The light and coolness coming from the inner room. I could see its blue reflection against the soft curtains. And even the way the curtains draped over the window was like a fantasy.

I would have walked to the window and imagined myself as the owner of the room. Picture what Carlos saw when he woke.

But not with that belly-down man.

I moved to the inner room. It was a storage room, as expected. Gold watches. Rolex. Designer suits. Diamond chain. A shrine of wealth.

They all screamed my name.

'Evelyn Rodriguez, come to us!'

I stood there, hesitant. This wasn't why I was here.

But how could Evelyn remain later in the presence of money?

I'll just have a feel.

That would be enough to give me financial orgasm. Imran the suit through my hand. Carlos' smell was woven to them like the very fabric.

The smell was intoxicating. I shut my eyes and sniffed.

God.

I shouldn't be doing this...

But I did anyway. I ran my hand through the fabric, weighing its worth. The weight of wealth was strangely...

Light and breathtaking.

Those fabrics were too good to cost less than a million dollars.

I ran the chain through my fingers and lifted the watch.

My mistake.

Because the moment I did, I realised there was a hidden fingerprint panel underneath. The automated voice threatened me, slicing through the quiet.

"Fingerprint."

I stared in horror, thought of a bullet slicing through my brain, and returned to the glaring , unyielding screen.

I had been reckless.

How was I going to explain this to Carlos? How do I explain lifting his Rolex?

This time I wouldn't be getting a deal. In fact, I wouldn't be getting prison. I bit my lips tightly and watched as the blue light on the screen turned red.

"Thirty seconds," it threatened.

I groaned in agony and watched as the time ticked away. Tears stung my eyes and I fell on my knees..

If I survived this, I was done. No more Carlos Alvarez. Thomas Grey could kiss hell.

But how was I going to survive this?

"Ten seconds," the machine chimed, despite my agony.

I stood up, undecided. But when I saw the time blinking three seconds, I slapped the watch on the panel.

And then...

Silence.

My heart nearly stopped.

I didn't care about Thomas's mission anymore. I bolted from the room, swearing never to return.

Mrs. Alvarez?

Damn that fantasy!.