One Shots

Cafe Rouge [Straight]

A/n This is now a completed, full story on my profile. Check it out if you enjoy this :) 

Cafe Rouge

Lola knows something is wrong as soon as the men step into her little street café. Their dark, brooding presence make her uneasy; the large frames, expressionless faces and uniform suits; all causing an unsettling feeling to take root Lola's stomach.

She wipes down the table she's at but keeps an eye on them as one of them turns to the nearest employee. To Martha he exchanges some words and whether it's the words themselves or the presence of him and his colleagues, the poor girl pales.

With panic alarms ringing loud and clear, Lola puts on a façade of calm as she approaches the men.

"Can I help you, gentlemen?" she asks, giving a tight smile at the stone set man.
"We need to have a talk with the owner," he responds in a tone matching his hard-set features.
"I'm afraid my father is not well at the moment. But whatever it is I'm sure I can help you out on his behalf," Lola replies with the same detached professional tone. The man narrows his eyes momentarily before flicking them at his 'friends'.
"No, we must speak with him, only," insists the man.
"Well, that's not possible at the moment," Lola retorts back. The man leans down to her height, his voice going even lower.
"Listen, little girl. We want to talk to your father. So either you fúcking call him, or we will shoot this whole fúcking place down and go on up there," he hisses, parting his jacket slightly to show his gun.

Despite the outright threat in the broad daylight in a public place, it ranks on Lola's nerves that this oaf would dare come in with his thug buddies and be rude to her in her café.
"Listen here, I don't know who you are or why you're here, but don't you dare think for a moment you can just come into my cafe and start threatening me!" she snarls back in the same whispered tone so as to not attract anymore unwanted attention.
It is admittedly a little late for that seeing as many of the regulars and vistors are giving curious glances their way. Well, some are just outright staring.

The man gives her a malicious scowl as he reaches down into his jacket to bring out the promised weapon.
Lola gulps slightly, and presses her hands together to stop them shaking. The crazy fool wouldn't really start shooting would he?...Would he?! Goddamit, her and her stupid mouth! Then again, who would she be without her principles?

Thankfully, just as he's about to draw the weapon out, a hand rests on his shoulder, seizing his movements.

"Now, now, Frankie. I don't think the little girl knows what she's saying," sings a low voice. Lola glares up at the owner.

How dare he call her a little girl! At 22, she's no little girl! As she glares into the glittering silver, grey eyes, framed by thick black lashes, her own eyes widen a little in shock. He's absolutely gorgeous. In a dangerous, deadly way. Unlike his goons, his own suit is navy blue and fitted perfectly to emphasis a tall, lean muscular frame. His skin a light bronze, a little darker than caramel but just as tempting. Then there's his face. His face...Oh God. Lola nears groans at such a jagged yet hauntingly beautiful face. Thick black busy eyebrows and slanted cheekbones, with a few strands of his dark black hair flickering at his forehead, his nose is crooked and lips are a dusty pink, and lusciously full. A lighter line of skin cuts across his left eyebrow up, and Lola can't help but find that little scar even more so appealing. From his appearance, one thing is clear. He is certainly not someone you mess with.
However that initial physical attraction is one that can be tramped down for the glaringly obvious reason that he's clearly in charge of these goons.