SAY MY NAME

Carlos woke to the unfamiliar warmth of her pressed against him, his arms wrapped around her as if she were the anchor of his dreams. Blinking against the morning light, he freed his left hand to grab his phone. Quarter to nine. Late. He should have been up hours ago, but something about her presence held him captive.

He studied her, her delicate face softened by sleep, lips slightly pursed like a baby lost in dreams. A stray strand of hair fell across her cheek, and his fingers twitched to move it. But before he could, she stirred, her small frame instinctively curling closer, her face burying itself against his chest as though drawn to him even in sleep.

He frowned, torn between duty and desire. Moving her to the other side of the bed would undoubtedly wake her, and he didn't want to disrupt the fragile peace of this moment. The thought unsettled him more than missing work ever could.

An hour later, she woke up, stretching with a languid yawn as her arms tightened around something warm and solid. Her contentment shattered as her eyes flew open, locking onto an icy, unyielding gaze that froze her mid-breath.

Her stomach dropped, and a whispered curse slipped past her lips. With excruciating slowness, she rolled to the other side of the bed, careful not to make any sudden movements, and cocooned herself in the duvet like it could erase the moment entirely.

His silence was deafening, the sound of his retreating footsteps even more so. The door closed behind him, but the tension he left behind clung to the air.

'Evelyn, get your act together' she scolded herself, her fists clutching the duvet. Her mind raced, trying to suppress the burning shame and the memory of those piercing eyes. It wasn't just her body she needed to hide; it was her rattled composure, now fractured beyond recognition.

Later, after washing up and getting dressed, Evelyn made her way downstairs for breakfast.

Carlos sat at the table, his usual cold demeanor intact. He expected her to avoid his gaze, as she always did, but this time was different.

She kept glancing at him, their eyes meeting briefly before she looked away. Occasionally, she'd pout, and at other times, she'd focus intently on her food as if it were the most fascinating thing in the room.

"Do you have something to tell me?" Carlos finally asked, his voice even and distant, his gaze fixed elsewhere.

Her breath hitched, as though he'd plucked the words straight from her thoughts. She looked at him, then down at her hands, nervously twisting her fingers. "I have… a favor to ask," she said softly.

A favor? She immediately regretted her choice of words. No, not favor. She should have said she needed his permission.

Her spiral of self-criticism was interrupted by his cold voice. "Favor?" he repeated, his tone laced with faint curiosity and sharper skepticism.

"Yes," she replied quickly, her voice firmer this time. She dared to meet his gaze again, but only briefly, before looking back at her restless fingers.

"What is it?" he asked, his tone flat, almost disinterested.

Evelyn took a deep breath, steadying her voice. "I heard my father has woken up. I want to visit him."

The silence that followed felt like a lifetime. Her mind spiraled, filling the void with every possible outcome. He's going to say no. Of course, he'll say no. He'll keep her locked here, unreachable, unfree. What would she even tell Hanna or her father if she couldn't go?

She let out a quiet sigh, the silence stretching unbearably. Taking his lack of response as a denial, she pushed back her chair and stood, ready to leave the dining room.

But his voice stopped her mid-step. "I will let you go on one condition."

Her heart skipped, and she turned to face him cautiously. "What?" she asked, barely above a whisper.

Carlos leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other. His gaze pinned her to the spot. "Say my name."

The butler and maids exchanged astonished glances, their surprise palpable in the room.

"Huh?" The sound escaped her lips before she could stop it. She blinked at him, unsure if she had heard him correctly.

He didn't repeat himself. Instead, he sat there, his cold, expectant gaze burning into her, as if daring her to defy him.

Evelyn bit her lip, the weight of his demand settling on her. Of course, he knew. He had figured out how hard it was for her to utter his name. And now, he was using it against her. Call him by name and visit her father, or refuse and remain trapped here indefinitely.

Her chest tightened. The thought of not seeing her father felt unbearable, like a slow suffocation. She met his gaze, her resolve wavering. He began to rise from his seat, clearly intending to leave, when she blurted out:

"Carlos! I want to visit my father. Carlos, can I go to the city? I need your permission, Carlos!"

Her voice was louder than she intended, her tone desperate. His lips quirked ever so slightly, a flicker of amusement or satisfaction, but he said nothing.

The silence hung thick, and Evelyn clenched her fists, biting back her frustration as she waited for his response.