N: So, once again I fall victim to a couple did not get their happily ever after and once again, I am using fanfiction as a coping mechanism. Hopefully my coping mechanism will bring you some joy too.
There are SOOO not enough stories on these two out there. This takes place towards the end of season 2 (you'll figure it out). There are some changes (you'll figure those out too).
Please take the time to drop me a line and let me know what you thought about it 😊
Choices and Consequences
Carla Roson never had much say in her life…not really. Not when it mattered anyway. Decisions had been made for her since she was old enough to remember decisions being made. The little future Marchioness had her whole life planed out for her and Carla was fine with it. Yes, she had her little moments of rebellion here and there – Christian had been one of them, but what teenager didn't? However, most of the time she was content with her life the way it was. She was beautiful, she was rich, she had a title and privilege that most people only dreamed of. At least that's what Carla told herself. And it had worked. And she would've been content lying to herself her whole life if it hadn't been for Samuel Garcia. What started as a game, turned into something more. Like a stupid little amateur, she had to go and fall in love with the wrong guy from the wrong side of town. What a cliché.
The worst part: she saw it coming. She saw it coming yet she had been unable to stop it. She fell hard, fast and irreversible. As much as she tried to deny it, she couldn't. Her heart clenched painfully in her chest as her eyes searched for him in the bright classroom. The thought that her father was most likely responsible for the disappearance of Samuel Garcia – because she still refused to believe he was dead – made her want to scream. But proper ladies did not scream. Proper ladies did not throw tantrums. Proper ladies did not show their emotions. And Carla Roson was nothing if not a very proper lady. But then she remembered his rare, beautiful smile. His intense, dark brown eyes disarming her from across a room full of people. His hands slowly exploring her body, rough, yet gentle. His palms had not been soft and unsure and always hesitating like Polo's, but callused, eager and unapologetic. The mare memory of Sam's hands on her made her body shiver. She remembered his incredibly sexy mouth whispering sweet little lies in her ear. His lips on hers, on her neck, her chest…all over her skin, taunting her, marking her.
She couldn't breathe. Her heart was beating rapidly against her chest. She could feel her hands shaking as she clenched her fists in her lap. Sweat dripped from her palms and into the thick material of her skirt. Just when she thought she might pass out, the teacher dismissed them. She ran straight into the bathroom. In a minute she was emptying the contents of her stomach – which consisted of a single yoghurt – into the toilet. After making sure nothing else was trying to come out, she used the toilet bowl to push herself from the floor. She flushed twice and got out of the little cubicle, bumping straight into her former best friend.
"What the hell is wrong with you?"
"Lu, I am fine. I_"
"Stop fucking lying to me." Two girls came in through the door. Lucrecia turned around, flipping her straight brown hair. "Get out and stay out," she said. Her voice was even and soft but the menacing tone was screaming. The two girls did not hesitate before getting out, closing the door behind them. The brunette waited another split second before turning her attention back to the petite blonde. Carla swallowed hard, her jaw clenching. "I have never seen you like this and I've known you since we were nine. So, what the hell is wrong."
Carla pushed passed Lucrecia and walked to the sink. She washed her hands. "You don't want to know," she finally whispered before gargling some water. She spit it out. "Trust me, you don't," she went on before popping a mint in her mouth and taking out her trusted concealer.
"The hell I don't," Lucrecia snatched the concealer from Carla's hand. "Look at me," the brunette demanded. "You have an annoyingly perfect complexion. You have never needed concealer in your life. Not unless you've been crying for hours or not sleeping for days. And right now…it looks like both."
Carla closed her eyes briefly, taking in a deep breath. She was so close to losing her patience. Hell, she was close to losing her sanity. She could feel it slipping through her fingers. It was getting thinner and thinner as she was desperately trying to hold on. And now Lucrecia was being her pushy, demanding self and Carla couldn't take it. For someone so cold and calculated, Lucrecia Montesinos sure was good at reading people. Lu was a lot like her. She hid her emotions well, because that was what was expected of her. A defense mechanism against the world around them. A cruel, stoic, colorless world that could just as easily punish you as it could reword you. They both had to become good at reading other people's emotions while controlling their own to survive this world. The expectations people had of them were high and they came at a price just as high.
"Talk to me," Lu whispered. Carla bit her lip and shook her head. "You can talk to me," she repeated.
"Lu, I can't…I just…"
"Yes you can. Tell me what's wrong!"
"I…" Carla hesitated for another second before the words simply burst out of her mouth. "I think Samuel might be dead and my dad is responsible."
Lucrecia frowned. "Why would your dad want to_"
"Polo killed Marina," the words came out of her mouth before she could think of the consequences. And as soon as the first sentence came out, everything else followed. She told Lucrecia everything. Told her about the watch and how Marina ended up with it. Told her about Christian's involvement. About Christian's accident and why it might not have actually been an accident. It seemed now that she started talking, Carla could not stop.
"I don't think he is dead," was the first thing Lu said after Carla was done.
The blonde raised an eyebrow at her friend. "Did not hear what I told you?"
Lucrecia shrugged. "I did, but one problem at a time. I don't think Samuel is dead. But I think he might be soon."
"What makes you say that?"
"Well, if I were your dad, I would want to make sure the poor little waiter did not spill his guts to anyone else. So, I am guessing your dad might want to…ask him a few questions. Look into it to make sure he is telling the truth and all."
"The boots," Carla said and this time it was Lu's turn to raise an intrigued eyebrow.
"When my dad came home yesterday, in his bag, there were a pair of muddy boots. It hasn't rained in the city in days. But it rained up north. We have a small cabin there. Dad is the only one that uses it anymore for his hunting trips. It's secluded, empty and full of guns. No one else ever goes there, so it would be the perfect spot."
"Yeah, makes sense," Lu said. "We need a plan."
"A plan?"
"Yes. And we need help. Most likely your dad hired someone to stand guard. Just give me a day."
Carla frowned. "Lu, I don't think_"
"Carla, please do not do something stupid. Just give me until tomorrow. I will talk to Valerio. He is an annoying prick, but he could help. We will come up with a plan to rescue your charity project."
"Don't call him that," Carla said softly. Lucrecia placed the concealer by the edge of the sink and Carla grabbed it at once. She proceeded to apply the miracle potion that could cover two nights of no sleep and a full night of crying.
***C&S***
Carla had fully intended to stick to Lucrecia's plan. Everything her friend said made sense. So yes, Carla really wanted to wait another day and make sure they had a plan to go after Samuel. But then she made the colossal mistake of falling asleep. She fell asleep only to wake up screaming an hour later from a nightmare. A nightmare of her, holding a dying Samuel in her arms. Blood was staining her immaculate white clothes. So much blood…it was everywhere. On her clothes, her arms, her hands, the floor. Hovering over them was her father. He was holding a still smoking gun, laughing, happily telling her he had fixed the problem.
So, after her heartbeat returned to normal and she stopped shaking, Carla got out of bed. She washed her face, braided her hair, put on a pair of warm leggings, boots and a black hoodie and returned to her room. She grabbed her cellphone from the nightstand, silenced the device and shoved it in the tight pocket of her pants. She checked the watch on her wrists. It was almost two in the morning. Middle of the night. Slowly, she opened the drawer of her nightstand and grabbed her nail kit. That one she put in the packet of her hoodie, grabbed the keys to the Mercedes and was on the highway ten minutes later.
***C&S***
If someone would've told Carla Roson a few months ago, or even a few weeks ago that she will be lying in the mud, between bushes, covered in leaves and dirt, she would've suggested they check themselves into some sort of institution. It wasn't that she was squeamish, or afraid of getting a little dirty. But why? She never saw a good enough reason to get dirty. They had people for that. Ok, so call her spoiled, she was a Marchioness after all. Yet, here she was. Lying in the mud, on her belly, cursing herself for only putting on a hoodie over her t-shirt. Her whole body was stiff, her muscles were throbbing with pain from forcing them in an uncomfortable position for too long, and she was shivering from the cold. Her hair – or at least she hoped it was her hair and not some disgusting bug – was tickling the back of her neck. Carla could not remember ever feeling so itchy in her whole life. She wanted nothing more than to scratch the back of her neck, but she was too afraid to move. One wrong move, one unnatural sound and her whole plan would be ruined. All the mud crawling, all the waiting, laying painfully on the cold forest floor, all for nothing. She had to stay still. Samuel's life was literally depending in it.
Just when she thought she would not be able to take it anymore, the guard's head dropped slightly to the left, resting against the wooden wall, and he let out a snore. He was massive, armed and right in front of the damn door. There was no way she could sneak past him. He was covering nearly eighty per cent of the door. Yes, she was tiny, but not that tiny. She would definitely not be able to fit without touching the guy. But Carla knew something the guard didn't. She knew that the side window's lock was loose, all it needed was a jab and it would open. Biting her lip to hold in a cry of pain, she stood up. It took her a few minutes to get her body to cooperate again. She took small, slow steps to not wake the guy as she made her way towards the right side of the cabin. Just as she predicted, no one bothered to fix the window.
Once inside, Carla placed the small file she used to open the window back in its leather pouch and in her pocket. Thankfully the little night lights her parents bought for her were still in their place. When she was little, she shamefully told her mother that she was afraid to come out of her room. They were after all in the middle of the words. Without another word, the next day her father placed small night lights all over the cabin. In the kitchen, living room, dining room, halls, bedrooms, bathrooms. The whole cabin was full of pale orange light. It wasn't bright by any means, but enough to see where she was going. After checking everywhere on the main floor, Carla made her way up the stairs. She skipped the 4th step as she remembered it used to squeak. She had dropped a bowling ball on it years ago and the damn thing started squeaking. Her dad said he will fix it, maybe he had, but she could not take the risk.
As soon as she reached the top of the stairs, Carla noticed that only one door was open. The door to the guest bedroom, on the far-right side of the house. She took in a deep breath and made her way down the corridor.
She saw him before reaching the door. Tied to a chair, in the middle of the room. Carla's eyes opened a little wider as she got closer. Was he bleeding? Was he even conscious? The light was too dim to tell. She rushed into the room, forgetting all about being quiet. As soon as she got close enough, Samuel lifted his head. Carla let out a mute cry. His handsome face was covered in blood. His left eye was barely open. It was swollen, red and purple.
"Carla, what the hell are_"
"Shh," she whispered once he started talking. Slowly, she stretched out her arm and placed a gentle hand on his cheek. "Oh Sam," she said softly before proceeding to undo the complicated knots securing him to the chair.
"What are you doing here?" Samuel asked. His eyes locked on hers as soon as she looked up from her hands. Her breath hitched in her throat for a second. Damn him and the effect he had on her. It was the whole reason for being in this mess.
She shook her head slightly. "What does it look like I am doing?" she asked rhetorically. "I am getting you out of here."
"What about the guards?" he asked after a short pause.
Carla stopped. She had only managed to undo the knots from his left wrist and was just starting on the right one. Did he just say guards? As in more than one? Her blood went cold and sweat started prickling on her forehead. She was usually so calm and collected in crises. If someone doubted that about Carla Roson, all they had to do was ask Polo. Yes, she was usually able to keep her wits about her in any situation. Except – it seemed – where Samuel Garcia was concerned. Apparently, all it took for Carla to lose her composure was the knowledge that Samuel was in danger. "There…there are more? I thought it was just one."
Samuel shook his head. "No, there are two."
"Well, I guess we better hurry then," she mumbled, focusing on undoing the ropes. He winced as she pulled at the knot and she let out a long series of profanities in several different languages she spoke. She could tell she was hurting him. His wrists were already sore and bruised – she guessed he must've tried to free himself.
"Why did you come Carla?" he asked as soon as she finished with the ropes.
She stood up and took a few steps backwards to allow him space to stand. Why did she come? Because she couldn't live with the thought of something happening to him? Because it was the right thing to do? Because she cared? Because she wanted to save him? Or maybe to save herself? To save what was left of her soul. Because Samuel Garcia might be the only one capable of saving Carla's maimed little soul. She opened her mouth, but the question remained unanswered as the sound of a gun being loaded suddenly filled the room. Looked like they had found the missing second guy. He was standing in the doorway, pointing his gun straight at Samuel.
"Stand down," she said with more confidence than she actually felt. "Tell my father it's over," she went on.
The guy's eyes shifted from Samuel to Carla only for a few seconds. "I am sorry Miss Roson, but I have my orders," he said in a deep, accented voice.
"What orders?"
"He cannot leave the premises alive," he said.
The next minutes had been the shortest and longest of Carla's life. She saw clearly as the guy removed the safety of his gun, she noticed his jaw clench slightly as he aimed, bracing himself for the aftershock. Carla knew all about it. Her father had thought her how to fire a gun when she was eleven years old. The moment the index finger pressed against the trigger Carla moved. She felt the bullet hit right underneath her right breast. It hurt so much she couldn't breathe. But it only lasted a second. And then…nothing. Nothing but a kind of blurry buzzing. And then she saw him hovering over her. She smiled at him. "I…I'm…I'm s-sorry…for ev-eve-everything," she mumbled. It was hard to talk. Hard to focus. She must've been crying because she felt Samuel's fingers wipe away the tears.
"Carla, please hold on! Why the hell would you…God, the ambulance is on its way just… fuck, just hold on for me ok?" he said in a rush. She nodded. Or at least tried to. But she was so tired. She just wanted to close her eyes and sleep. It had been so long since she slept peacefully. In his arms she could always sleep. He could keep her nightmares away. "I," she started weakly. "Sam, I…" it was so hard. So tired. She just needed to rest. But first, she had to tell him. He had to know this. "I…I love…I love you." There, she said it. She could rest now. The sound of the sirens in the distance and her name from his lips were the last things she heard before she passed out.
***C&S***
Beep-beep-beep. That was the sound that woke her up. Carla opened her eyes slowly. Everything was bright white. The first thing that came to mind was that she was in pain. The second thing that registered was that she was cold. The confusion only lasted for about a minute. As soon as she realized she was in a hospital room, Carla remembered the events before her rude awakening. "Sam," she mumbled. Talking was still hard. Just as she uttered the name, she turned her head to the right. Her mother was seated in a chair with a magazine in her hand. Slowly, she stood up and placed the magazine on the chair.
"He is outside."
"What?" Carla asked confused.
"The boy is outside. He had refused to leave since they brought you in," her mother explained. "I will go get him."
"Mom," Carla called before her mother could opened the door. The Marchioness stopped in her tracks but did not turn around. "Did you know about what dad…what he was going to…did you know?"
There was a long moment of silence. Carla knew very well what it meant. "I did not know how you felt about him," her mother finally said.
"You should've known. You're my mother and you should've known." Her mother said nothing, she simply opened the door and left. Not even a minute later Samuel was closing the door behind him. He looked as bad as yesterday. He had cleaned away the blood and the swollenness diminished slightly, but his bruises were now more pronounced. She couldn't help the thought that he had almost died because of her. He smiled at her and despite the pain, despite the situation, despite everything, she smiled back.
"How are you feeling?" he asked as he made his way towards her bed.
"Well, let's just say the next time someone shoots at you, I'll let them," she said. Truth was she would take that bullet for him any time. Every time. She had called him 'pussy-whipped' but as embarrassing as it was, she was as gone as him. Samuel grabbed the blanket from the foot of the bed and placed it over her. She raised an eyebrow at him.
"You were shivering," he said simply.
God, when did he get to know her so well? She was the queen of keeping people at a distance. Hell, she turned it into an art. Yet somehow, Samuel Garcia found his way in. Not only that but he managed to get further than anyone else. "Carla," Samuel started softly. "Are you going to tell me what happened?"
Carla closed her eyes briefly. "Might as well, everyone should know by now. I left a message for Lu," she said. Before she left on her little adventure, she had called her former best friend. She had left her a message confessing to everything. She told her how it went down, where the damn trophy was and where she was going, just in case. Just like she had done with Lucrecia the day before, she told Samuel everything. "Do you hate me?" she asked. A tear fell from her eyes, down her temple and into her hair. The second tear did not make it, Samuel stopped it with his thumb.
"Of course, I don't hate you. You've made a mistake Carla, but you did not kill Marina," he whispered, his thumb still slowly caressing her cheek. "You did not make any of this happen. You have been tormented by this since it happened. You saved my life. I told you before," he smiled down at her. Carla thought he had a beautiful smile. Rare…but beautiful. "I look into your eyes and I know you don't want to hurt anyone," he went on, repeating the words he had said to her before they had sex in the backseat of her car. "I love you too," he finished.
"You…too?" she asked confused. "I did the dying confession thing didn't I?" Samuel nodded. "Oh well. I mean, I took a bullet for you. I don't think the actual words were necessary," she went on. Even as the words came out of her mouth, she remembered. She remembered how much she had wanted to tell him. How important it had been that he heard her say those words to him in that moment.
"Still, a guy likes to hear," he teased. "And I would like to hear it when I am not afraid you are going to die in my arms."
"I_" she started, but just then the door opened. A young nurse came in with a bright smile. Her eyes found Samuel's and her smile widened.
"I told you she will wake up soon," the nurse said.
"Yes, thank you," Samuel answered.
"I am just here to administer the pain medication. The doctor will come in the afternoon," the woman explained. She made her way towards the bed and Samuel stepped away.
"No, stay please," Carla murmured.
"You can stay," the nurse said as she injected something into the little tube coming out of Carla's left hand. "But she will likely fall asleep soon.
"It's alright, I will stay," Samuel said. He pulled the chair closer to her bed and grabbed Carla's other hand, taking a seat.
"I love you Sam," Carla said as soon as the nurse left.
"I love you too."
Carla fell asleep under his watch. She was lying in a hospital bed, a whole in her stomach and a lot of pain, but she had never been happier. As long as he was by her side, she could do anything. As long as he was alright, she will be too.