My Decision Is Final

Carlos let out a faint chuckle, shaking his head. “You’re being dramatic.”

Megan’s glare could’ve cut glass. “Dramatic?”

Carlos sighed, reaching for her hand, but she pulled away. His patience thinned. “Megan, listen to me,” he said, his voice firm but measured. “This is a business trip. Strictly business. No other funny shit. And when I get back, I’ll make it up to you.”

Megan stared at him, searching his face. Her lips parted slightly, then closed again. A long silence stretched between them before she exhaled sharply. “You better,” she muttered, turning away from him once more.

Carlos smirked faintly, shaking his head as he slid out of bed. His bare feet met the cool marble flooring as he stretched his arms over his head. The estate was silent, untouched by the bustling world outside, but the weight of the conversation lingered in the air.

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Rolling his shoulders, he made his way to the used clothing bin in the corner of the room and peeled off his golden-brown silk night garment, tossing it in without a second thought. The smooth fabric slipped from his skin effortlessly, leaving him bare. He reached for a pristine white towel from the drawer near the bed, slinging it around his waist before making his way to the bathroom.

Inside, the steamy air was already thick as he hung the towel on the holder. The moment he stepped into the glass shower cabinet, moderately heated water cascaded over his muscular body, accentuating every defined contour of his form. He lathered his hair with shampoo, his fingers massaging his scalp as he hummed lowly to Burna Boy’s melody, letting the warm stream wash over him.

Emerging minutes later, he grabbed the towel and dried himself off in front of the expansive restroom mirror. His dark eyes held a gleam of amusement as he studied his own reflection, lost in thought. The business meeting in Moscow loomed in his mind, but what truly entertained him was the idea of the wicked little game he had planned for Cynthia.

A slow smirk stretched across his lips as he murmured to himself, "We're going to have so much fun today, Cynthia... and I'm going to love every bit of it."

Tying the towel securely around his waist, he stepped back into the bedroom. Without bothering to dress, he pushed open the heavy oak doors, striding out into the expansive hallway. The soft glow of dimly lit sconces illuminated the corridor as he walked towards Cynthia’s private suite. His bare feet made no sound against the polished marble floors, his presence commanding even in the silence.

A maid appeared in his path, her eyes immediately dropping to the floor as she recognized him. Every muscle in her body tensed with a mixture of fear and reverence. She executed a full, deep bow, her voice barely above a whisper, "Good morning, sir."

Carlos didn’t break his stride as he passed her. "Morning," he replied, his tone indifferent, sending an unspoken message—he wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries.

Moments later, he reached Cynthia’s chambers. He lifted a hand and gave a single, deliberate tap against the door before pushing it open without waiting for permission. The door creaked slightly as it swung inward, revealing a dimly lit room with sheer curtains fluttering against the open balcony doors. The scent of expensive perfume lingered in the air.

Cynthia startled awake at the sudden intrusion, her body jerking upright in bed. Her voice, laced with distress, rang out in the dimness, "Who’s there?!"

"It’s me," Carlos answered, his voice firm, cold.

She exhaled sharply, rubbing her temple. "To what do I owe this pleasure?" she asked, voice dripping with sarcasm. "It must be something extraordinary to bring the king himself to my chambers at this hour of the day."

Carlos stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. "Get dressed. You and I are heading to Europe in a few hours."

Cynthia blinked, momentarily stunned. "What?" She threw the covers off, sitting up fully now. "You’re joking. I’m not part of the company officials flying out today. I have other things to attend to. I’m not prepared that."

"You are now." His voice was absolute, leaving no room for debate.

She scoffed. "Carlos, be reasonable. Why are you doing this? The meeting is better off without—"

"My decision is final." He cut her off smoothly, his voice edged with finality.

Her lips parted as if to argue further, but one glance at his expression shut her up. A muscle ticked in her jaw as frustration warred with reluctant submission. She knew better than to push him too far.

Carlos turned on his heel, stepping out without another word, leaving her to stew in her irritation.

And as he made his way down the hallway, a small smirk tugged at his lips. The game had already begun, and he was looking forward to every delicious moment of it.