Café Rouge

Chapter 4: Dinner Date

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.