"You have to stop thinking your calls are bothering me," Maria said to Grace over the phone, balancing it in between her ear and neck as she reached for the last frozen plate of food in the fridge—the one Crystal had cooked before she left.
"Maybe I also have a life too," Grace replied. "It's not always about you."
"Fine," Maria exhaled, moving to the microwave. "I'm sorry. I really want what's best for you too
—and I have good news."
"Okay," Grace said flatly.
"Wanna guess?" Maria asked playfully as she slid the food in and turned it on.
"It's about the scholarship," Grace said, her tone still uninterested.
Maria was a little used to this way of talking to her.
Even though she wanted them to be closer than this, she understood it.
She had been a teenager once too.
"Yes, it is," Maria smiled. "And the best part? It's totally guaranteed. All you have to do is pack up your things and that brilliant brain of yours and head down to Mapla."
Silence.
"Grace…" Maria called softly, curious if the news had lightened up her mood at least.
"I didn't think it would happen this fast," Grace finally said.
Maria leaned against the kitchen table, turning her back to the microwave. "Let's just be grateful for the timing, okay? You'll be graduating from one of the best schools here, which alone opens doors for a good college choice."
Grace sighed. "Fine, since you insist."
"Don't sound like that, Gracey," Maria said gently. "I promise it's so you can have a seamless transition into college. It can be very draining trying to study new subjects for external exams. You remember how it was for me"
"It's fine, big sis," Grace replied, softer now. "The weekend would be better for me to travel."
"Perfect," Maria smiled. "I'll send you some extra money—get whatever you need, okay."
"Okay. Goodnight."
"Goodnight."
The call ended.
Maria smiled proudly and turned as the microwave beeped, the scent of the food already filling the air.
She grabbed it with an oven mitt, placing it on a waiting steel tray with a glass of water.
Too tired to bother with proper plating, she carried the tray to the dining table and set it down.
She slipped off her multicolored linen robe, hanging it on the chair before sitting, trying to cloud her mind with the good things happening in her life, not what was going on beneath it.
Maria said her prayers and took a bite, closing her eyes briefly at the taste.
Crystal might gossip too much but she could cook.
Another spoonful—then Miles slipped into her thoughts.
Uninvited.
As she chewed, her mind flashed back to when she had fed him—and just like that, Jenny's advice came ringing back in her head.
She took another spoonful, chewing more slowly now, picking up her phone to scroll for distraction but how could she break up with Daniel?
Jenny said it like it was easy but she was obviously just thinking about the advantages.
Could Miles control the outcome of what this was slowly becoming for her reputation?
He was so intentional, so controlled.
Taking his time with her.
Everything she had secretly wished for in a partner all her life.
Maria dropped her phone.
Nothing perfect came easy, definitely not Miles Genova.
Her spoon stirred through her food slowly, imagining the line of his nose brushing against hers… his drenched lashes…that slight fall of hair against his forehead.
Her breath caught.
Maria dropped her spoon. Irritated at herself.
At how she had pressed her body into his while they kissed—savoring the feel of the stimulating line between his legs.
The subtle…deliberate digging of his fingers into her bare buttocks.
"Oh my God!" she whispered in frustration, dropping the spoon again and reclining back into the chair.
This was bad.
She hated confrontations. How would Daniel react?
The project had gone too far to turn back. What would Miles do if she said no?
Maria sat up again, forcing herself back to her food, taking another spoonful and chewing.
Still…it was better than being trapped.
Better than no growth with Daniel.
The reputation she had at stake could stay dead if she missed this chance.
Maybe Miles might soften, his control too.
Maybe they would just grow apart.
Did he like her enough to date her despite how it would look?
Her mind flashed with one last memory of him—after they left the pool, how he'd handed her the flower with a peck on her cheek.
The way she had stood still in his arms, unable to lift her hands off his chest as she caught the heavy shadow of desire in his eyes as he pulled back.
Wanting it as if he hadn't threatened her career just then?
Maria pressed her fingers to her temples carefully, mindful of the rollers in her hair.
She had held onto the flowers as the chauffeur drove her home, and even now they lay on her bed.
His soft side was almost a dream—patient and smooth with his words.
I won't let you fall.
Maria looked at her plate.
Deep down, her fear wasn't only about her reputation—it was also about the attachment to him forming within her.
**
Miles took a slow breath as he stepped out of the passenger backseat of his Mercedes.
He needed it.
Talking to his mother required it.
Rhea was already out, standing before the upgraded luxury villa that was his family home.
The chauffeur drove off between them along the wide granite-paved court that stretched around the mansion, with perfectly trimmed lawns on either side.
Miles walked past Rhea toward the entrance and she followed, her heels clicking behind him.
He had told her to go home, but she insisted on coming along, using his mother's request as an excuse to ensure he honored the invitation.
The double doors of dark oak and steel opened from within by a maid dressed in black and white, her hair neatly packed.
"Welcome, sir," she said, stepping aside.
Miles proceeded into the grand hall. Glossy grey tiles reflected the water-drop-shaped lights hanging from the coffered ceiling above.
A set of grey sofas sat on a large white rug in the middle. One end of the hall held a tall bookshelf, perfectly lined with books and sculptures—arranged with a precision meant for guests.
The other led to a circular staircase, where Miles now headed.
Before he climbed, his eyes caught the slightly ajar timber door leading to the guest dining area, pulling his mind back to the night he first kissed Maria.
"Sir…" Rhea began, but he was already ascending the marble stairs to the main living room.
Upstairs, his mom stood in a dull pink silk robe, smiling, arms open for a hug as he approached.
"My baby boy!" Mrs Genova said, hugging him tightly.
Her sharp tuberose perfume filled his senses.
Miles hugged her back. "Hi, Mom," he muttered, trying to breathe through the tight embrace.
"I've been wondering what I did wrong for you to avoid coming to see me," she said, pulling back.
"I've been busy, Mom," Miles replied, loosening her grip. "And you should really stop with the hugs. It's weird."
Mrs Genova laughed lightly. "You've been saying that since ten, my darling. Daniel never has a problem with it."
She released him.
Rhea's heels echoed as she climbed behind them while Miles moved toward the L-section.
"Rhea, go wait downstairs," she said sharply.
"Yes, ma," Rhea replied.
Her heels clicked away again, fading down the stairs.
"Not there, darling," Mrs Genova added as Miles moved to sit.
He paused.
"Come with me," she said, already turning toward the balcony.
Miles followed.
If this took too long, he would tell her he had work tomorrow and leave early.
That was why he had come on a Monday night, not the weekend.
The cool evening air rustled his hair as he stepped onto the balcony.
She was already seated on a long brown woven lounge chair, gently swaying on its support frame, positioned just far enough from the rails.
"Come sit," she said, patting the space beside her.
Miles exhaled quietly and sat.
"I don't have all night, mom," he said, staring out at the vegetation beyond the backyard—dense trees swaying softly in the distance.
"You never have time, Miles," she replied, her gaze also fixed ahead. "But it seems to be running out against you."
He rolled his eyes and relaxed into the chair, already knowing where this was going.
Mrs Genova turned to him. "I'm not getting any younger, Miles. I want grandkids. Most women my age already have them."
"I'm not getting married to Jennifer," he replied flatly.
"She told me what happened," she continued, shifting closer. "She also told me why."
A scoff slipped out of him.
Mrs Genova folded her hands, frustration settling in.
"And it's because you don't give her enough time. I'm sure you have more than enough aides—including Rhea—to run things in your absence."
"Now I'm not supposed to be a workaholic?" he asked with a brow lifted as he glanced at her.
"Your dad once ran the company," she said, deflecting. "But things still worked out between us. We had you and Daniel. You're almost his age when we got married."
Miles looked away again, trying to disengage.
"Maybe let me do the choosing and you might get grandkids."
This time, Mrs Genova scoffed. "I doubt there are many women sophisticated enough for me to accept."
"Exactly. You're choosing for yourself, not me."
She glared at him but Miles faced ahead, his thoughts drifting like the wind….toward Maria.
It took effort not to summon her to the office just to feed his eyes on the tempting curves of her body.
"Well," Mrs Genova's voice came again, pulling him back. "If you already have someone, then at least let me meet her."
He exhaled, unbuttoning the last button of his suit jacket. "We could always talk about this another day. Tomorrow's a work day—I have to rest."
Tomorrow he would properly schedule with Maria—-set the exact day of the week they would be visiting Minchstone to supervise and track the project progression.
"Why have you been working closer with that Maria girl?" Mrs Genova asked suddenly, prompting Miles to meet her gaze again.
He paused before answering. "She's a commendable employee."
"Isn't it better for Daniel to determine that himself?" she asked.
Miles looked away again.
"His relationship with her is personal," he said. "That's not the lens I'm looking from."
"I don't like it," she pressed. "Including the so-called project—it's giving her too much importance. And a lowlife like her tends to take advantage of things like this."
"The board agreed to the project," he said despite the tension rising in him at how easily she dismissed Maria. "Including Daniel."
"I'm aware they did, darling," she continued. "I'm only saying she doesn't have to be in the spotlight. I wish Daniel were here, he knows exactly what I mean."
Miles' jaw tightened.
It was better that he held back what he wanted to say so he could leave sooner.
"You're not saying anything, Miles," Mrs Genova said, tilting her head to catch his gaze again.
"I only recognize employees who deserve the spotlight," he replied, facing her but only briefly. "Regardless of social status."
"Maria doesn't even have any," she scoffed. "Daniel complains a lot about how she manipulates men at the office. She literally walked into the company and began dating him, because as usual, she thinks her looks will do all the talking."
Miles boiled.
Wondering how many times Daniel and his mother sat like this—reducing Maria, mocking her name?
It's no wonder she had fallen into the project trap.
Was he any different from the people already making her life difficult?
The answer was obvious.
And it was also why he kept pushing her to the point where she had no choice but to accept him…and his influence.
Miles stood, sliding both hands into his trouser pockets. "It's getting really late," he said, turning to her, his face neutral despite the irritation underneath. "I should be heading home to rest."
"I understand darling," she replied, standing as well, a smile on her face. "There are lengths I would go, to keep pests and riffrafs from leaching onto our family legacy—especially if this is what I'm suspecting it to be, Miles."
Miles held her gaze for a moment.
She was indirectly threatening Maria.
"Enjoy your night, mom," he said, not waiting for a response before turning and heading back inside.
He walked through the living room and toward the stairs leading to the ground floor.
His interest in Maria was subtly leaking out—
And it was becoming clear that he might not be the one to bear the consequences.