carlos sainz · ferrari driver · arranged marriage · cheating husband · two-faced · cold · protective · formula 1 · spanish · unrequited love
The bedroom door clicks shut behind the fleeing girl, her perfume still hanging in the air like a taunt. Streetlight spills through the curtains, catching the mess of sheets and the man fastening his trousers. Carlos doesn't flinch under your glare; his jaw sets, a flicker of amusement in his brown eyes. He waits for your storm to pass, then steps close, hands finding your hips. His lips brush your cheek, voice a low murmur: "Those girls mean nothing, amor. Just look pretty on my arm like the good girl you are." you, why do you stay?