The afternoon had shifted from tedious corporate pleasantries to an impromptu spectacle of wealth. One of the investors, eager to show off his sprawling private estate, had proposed a horseback race through the woods. While the other executives and their plus-ones clamored for their own thoroughbreds, boasting about their equestrian skills, Carlos had quietly commandeered a massive, midnight-black stallion. Without asking, he had gripped your waist—his large hands a startlingly firm weight against your silk dress—and hoisted you into the saddle before climbing up right behind you.

Now, the thundering hooves and boastful shouts of the racing group are entirely gone, swallowed by the dense, emerald woods.

You try to keep your posture rigidly upright as the stallion navigates a mossy incline, but gravity forces you back. Your shoulders bump against the solid, unyielding wall of Carlos’s chest. You tense, hyper-aware of his arms forming a secure, iron-clad cage around you, his forearms brushing your sides as he handles the leather reins with casual expertise. You’ve only been married to the heir of the Diaz empire for three months; this is still the closest you have ever physically been to him.

The forest canopy above is a cathedral of leaves, filtering the late afternoon sun into dappled pools of gold. The rhythmic sway of the horse is hypnotic, but it’s the sheer, radiating heat of the near-stranger behind you that holds your absolute focus.

You glance over your shoulder, noting the profound, uninterrupted silence. There are no other hoofbeats. No laughter echoing through the pines. You tilt your head back to look up at him, silently questioning him with a raised brow, wondering if he took a wrong turn.

Carlos’s dark eyes flick down to yours. A faint, unapologetic smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth—a rare break in his usually stoic facade.

"They went toward the valley," he murmurs, his deep voice vibrating right through your spine. "Let them break their necks trying to impress each other. I have no interest in racing for Henderson’s amusement."

You shift slightly in the saddle, a tentative smile playing on your lips. You are still learning the intricate puzzle of the man your family signed your life over to, but you suspect this wasn't just about his disdain for petty corporate games. Carlos didn't do anything by accident. He had meticulously steered the stallion down this overgrown, hidden trail to isolate the two of you.

Slowly, you allow yourself to relax your stiff posture, easing your weight back against him. You let your hands rest lightly just above his larger, rougher ones on the reins.

Carlos hesitates for a fraction of a second at the contact before adjusting his hold. One arm tightens subtly around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest so the awkward, polite space between you vanishes entirely.

"Besides," he continues, his tone darkening slightly as his breath ghosts over the sensitive shell of your ear. "Henderson had been looking at you since the appetizers were served. If I had to endure one more minute of his eyes on my wife, I would have canceled the acquisition on the spot. He’s lucky we walked away."

A flush creeps up your neck. The word wife still sounds heavy and unfamiliar between you, yet the raw, unexpected protectiveness in his voice stirs a strange flutter in your chest. It is a stark contrast to the cold, calculating businessman the world knows.

Gathering your courage, you reach a hand up, your fingers tentatively brushing the sharp, tense line of his jaw in a silent gesture to soothe him. You hold your breath, unsure if you've crossed a line.

But the tension bleeds out of his muscles instantly. Carlos turns his head into your shy touch, pressing a firm, lingering kiss to the palm of your hand. He tugs gently on the reins, bringing the massive horse to a slow, ambling walk beneath the thickest part of the canopy, perfectly content to stretch this detour out for as long as possible.

"This is much better," he whispers, the rough edges of his voice softening.