Tell Carlos to fuck off

"No, I'm not going to fuck you. Now give me the damn folder or get the hell out."

"That's a shame," Carlos said, a look of disappointment on his face.

He sighed, and stood up, walking around the table. He pulled his chair back and sat down, leaning back against the leather.

"I thought you might be a little more receptive. After all, Romero has his eyes on you, and I heard the man's real sick. You know he won't fuck you right? He likes to watch. Gets other men to do his dirty work, and watches them. You're just a little toy to him. A tool, a pawn. He'll toss you aside once he's finished."

Isabella stared at him, her hands balling into fists.

"That man doesn't want your body, Bella. He doesn't want your pussy or your ass. He doesn't want your tits, your cunt, or your mouth. No, what Romero wants is your power. Your position. He wants to be Presidente, and he'll do anything to get it. You really want a man like that to win? Take away everything your father built for you?"

"Get out," Isabella growled.

Carlos grinned and held the folder in the air, taunting her.

"I will wait for your call if you change your mind. After the funeral though, even a man like me may be tempted to make the safe play and cut his losses."

Isabella slammed her hand down on the desk, her face contorted with anger.

"I said, get the fuck out!"

Carlos sighed and got to his feet, shaking his head. He walked to the door and opened it, glancing back at her over his shoulder.

Isabella threw the cigar case at him, and he ducked out of the way, the metal container hitting the wall with a solid thunk. Carlos laughed and left, slamming the door behind him.

She collapsed into the chair, her head in her hands, her chest heaving. She's quickly coming to terms that everyone around her is out to screw her, and she doesn't have much choice in the matter.

She can't run. There's nowhere to go, no one who will protect her. She can't hide, because they will find her. And she can't fight, because they are too strong.

She is trapped, and her only choice is to do what they want. To give them what they want. And she has to do it with a smile on her face.

"Fuck," she swore, slamming her fist into the desk.

[-10 Oligarch Support]