Chapter 11: Knowing Fully What I'm Capable Of Doing...

“That’s the problem,” Carlos interrupted, his voice rising. “You’re always so eager to let people into your space, to make me look like a fool.”

Cynthia flinched at his words but didn’t back down. “You’re being ridiculous,” she said, her voice steadier now. “Why are you so threatened by a simple conversation?”

Carlos didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he reached out, his fingers brushing against her lips. The gesture was unexpected, almost tender, but the possessiveness in his eyes betrayed his true intentions. He leaned in close, his breath warm against her skin as he whispered, “Because you’re mine. Only mine.”

Before she could respond, his lips claimed hers in a forceful kiss that left no room for protest. Cynthia froze, her mind reeling as the taste of him overwhelmed her senses. When he finally pulled back, his gaze softened slightly, but the intensity remained.

“Don’t forget that,” he murmured before turning away, his arm slinging casually around Megan’s shoulders as he led her back to their seats.

Cynthia sank back into her chair, her body trembling with a mix of emotions she couldn’t begin to untangle. The cabin returned to its quiet hum, but the storm within her was far from over.

\--------------------

The Following Day...

Carlos stood outside Cynthia's hotel room, his hand poised mid-air after the third knock. The dimly lit corridor was lined with plush carpets, and faint classical music from the lobby seeped into the silence. His jaw tightened, his patience hanging by a thread. He leaned closer to the door, hearing the faint hum of the TV. She was inside, no doubt about it. Yet, she refused to answer.

"Stubborn as always," Carlos muttered under his breath. He tried the handle. Locked. A low growl escaped his throat. Without hesitation, he pulled a card from his pocket and slid it through the reader. The green light beeped, and the door clicked open.

Stepping inside, Carlos's eyes immediately landed on Cynthia. She was sprawled across the king-sized bed, her back against the cushioned headboard. The faint glow of the television illuminated her disinterested face, her eyes lazily following the movements on the screen. She didn’t even glance his way.

“Didn’t you hear me knocking?” Carlos’s voice cut through the room like a whip, sharp and demanding.

Cynthia didn’t flinch. Her gaze remained fixed on the screen as if he hadn’t spoken.

“I asked you a question, Cynthia,” he repeated, stepping closer. His polished shoes sank into the plush carpet, but his steps carried the weight of his irritation.

"I heard you," Cynthia replied finally, her tone indifferent, her eyes still glued to the screen. "What is it, Carlos?"

Carlos’s teeth clenched. “Is this how you address your husband? Not even looking at me when I’m speaking to you?” He planted himself directly in front of her line of sight, blocking the TV.

Cynthia sighed, her expression a mix of amusement and exasperation. With a deliberate motion, she reached for the remote and paused the TV. Her eyes, cool and defiant, finally met his. “What is it, my love?” she asked, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

Carlos's lips curled into a tight smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “For your own good, I suggest you don’t test my patience today.”

“Oh, please.” Cynthia rolled her eyes. “What is it this time, Carlos? I really don’t have the energy for your nonsense.”

The dismissiveness in her voice snapped the last thread of his control. In a flash, Carlos lunged forward, his hand wrapping around her neck with a ferocity that startled even him. Cynthia’s eyes widened in shock as she struggled against his grip, her hands clawing at his wrist.

“Do not,” Carlos growled, his voice dangerously low, “ever speak to me like that again.” His grip tightened for a brief moment, just enough to make her gasp, before he abruptly released her. She fell back onto the bed, coughing and clutching her throat.

Carlos took a step back, running a hand through his hair as he stared down at her. His breathing was uneven, his chest rising and falling with the effort to regain control. He shook his head, his voice softer but no less intense. “You make me do things I don’t want to do, baby. Why do you push me like this?”

Cynthia didn’t answer immediately. She lay there, catching her breath, her chest heaving. Her gaze, though shaken, didn’t lose its defiance. “What... do you want?” she finally managed, her voice raspy but steady.

Carlos let out a bitter laugh. “What do I want?” He shook his head, pacing the room. “Didn’t you see my calls? My messages?”

“I saw them.” Cynthia’s voice was calmer now, though a hint of irritation lingered. “What about it?”

Carlos stopped pacing, his eyes narrowing. “And you’re asking me what I want? Don’t turn me into the man I’m not, Cynthia. I don’t like repeating myself.”

Cynthia sat up slowly, her movements deliberate as if testing her strength. “I read your text,” she admitted, her tone casual. “Something about going out tonight. To a club, right? Well, I don’t feel like going.”

Carlos stared at her, his jaw tightening. “You don’t feel like going?” His voice was eerily calm, the kind of calm that carried a storm beneath it. “You will, Cynthia. Even if I have to drag you there myself.”

“Drag me?” Cynthia laughed dryly, her defiance flaring. “You’re unbelievable. Do you even hear yourself? You think I’m going to prance around with you and Megan, pretending like we’re one big happy family? For what? For the paparazzi to tear me apart again? The world has mocked me enough, Carlos.”

Carlos’s expression darkened. “So that’s what this is about? You’re more concerned about what the press will say than about what I’ll do to you?” He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You find new ways to amaze me, Cynthia.”

"Knowing fully what I'm capable of doing..."