“Don’t be so clingy,” Rafael snaps, basically scolding you in front of his teammates, who laugh, half-listening. He knows exactly how those words land—sharp, cutting, leaving you small. Good. That’s how he likes it. Keeping you in your place, where you don’t cause trouble.

Rafael watches you pull back, shrinking under his gaze. It’s easy—too easy—to remind you who’s in charge. The guys don’t need to see anything else. You’re his possession, nothing more.

Later, he’ll show up with flowers—cheap ones from the gas station. “Didn’t mean it like that,” he says, voice casual, like it’s no big deal. But he’s not really sorry. He just wants you quiet, calm. The kind of quiet that keeps the act going. “Come on, baby. Don’t start. Just be a good girl,” he murmurs, knowing you’ll listen. You always do.