Miles drew the loose rope of his tie around his light peach long-sleeved shirt, eyes fixed on his reflection in the mirror.
His hands slid into the pockets of his grey silk trousers, the silver of his expensive wristwatch catching faint light as he held his own gaze.
Yesterday was almost a disaster because of his jealousy—an emotion he was losing his grip on faster than he cared to admit, especially where Maria was concerned.
He was only pretending because of her, because of what his interest meant for her.
Yet he could not stop his mind from wandering back to the moist soak beneath the fabric between her legs.
Miles turned away from the mirror and stepped out of his closet.
The soft, deliberate clicks of his polished shoes echoed across the rich brown floors of his living space as he moved through the room.
He crossed toward the dining table, the lighting dimmer there—centered by a single white fixture hanging overhead.
The breakfast plates had already been cleared, leaving the ebony wood surface bare and immaculate.
He picked up his suit jacket from the chair, slipping it on with practiced ease before reaching for his phone.
The screen lit instantly.
Two missed calls from Dad.
One from Daniel.
His gaze lingered longer than necessary, contemplating a response before he picked up the phone and headed out.
Wednesday was Minchstone's sports day.
The day Maria had chosen for project supervision.
Today.
**
Maria sat in Minchstone's reception, trying to maintain her composure in one of the linked chairs in the waiting hall.
Her toes curled gently into the soft black suede flats she wore.
Her arms were lightly folded under her chest, her posture carefully arranged for professionalism when Miles eventually arrived.
Even the blue short-sleeved dress she wore had been taken from Daniel's side of the closet.
Pleated with weighty flare fabric and a modest, simple round neckline.
She was determined to push back even if through attitude at Miles' control.
It was hard to sleep last night, especially with Daniel's texts coming in and threatening hell if she didn't tell security to let him in.
And then, someone she strongly suspected was Miles had ensured security blocked all visitors to the GOATASTE property in her estate.
Including Daniel.
Maria could have felt sympathy for him, but his lengthy messages filled with insults and degradation had quickly shut down that feeling.
His last text had been emotional blackmail about her denying him closure.
Her arms tightened.
Miles couldn't keep doing this to her.
Even if her body replayed her climax from his touch over and over between her sheets.
He always reacted in the strangest ways, and she still couldn't predict him even when she felt she had figured him out.
Could he really like her enough? Past how he desired her body.
Would he drop the facade of being interested in her mind as well?
She had thought her relationship with Daniel had been toxic, but somehow what she currently had with Miles felt even more emotionally complicated.
Maria lifted her head toward the entrance as soft clicks of shoes echoed across the off-white tiled floor, reflecting the round ceiling lights above.
It was Miles.
He walked in with his head slightly turned and one hand in his pocket, his grey-lined tie hanging properly rather than loosely as it often did.
His eyes swept across the open reception as he moved toward her.
His presence drew the attention of the few adults scattered around the room, and it almost looked as if he basked in it before his gaze found hers.
Maria's eyes faltered immediately.
She looked away and cursed internally.
She wasn't supposed to give him any sign of weakness—not even as small as checking him out.
Immediately his cologne reached her, she rose to her feet and straightened into a professional posture, swallowing slightly as he stopped before her.
"Good morning, Sir," she said with a restrained smile.
"How are you, Maria?" his tempting baritone came, making her stomach flip gently as she recalled him whispering into her ears the day before while he played between her thighs.
"I'm fine," she replied, her gaze flickering downward as a faint flush rose at the memory.
"And you sir?" she asked, still trying to remain firm despite the softness slipping into her voice.
"You would tell if you meet my eyes," he said suddenly, and she lifted her gaze to his, almost biting her lip as she noticed his stare had settled on the curves outlined beneath the fitted upper bodice of her dress.
"Today," he began, slowly lifting his eyes back to her face, "you'll lead the way on what we're here to supervise regarding your project in Minchstone."
Her eyes brightened instantly, though she tried to contain her excitement that he still wanted her opinion and active involvement in the project.
Still, her smile widened.
**
Miles noticed the shift in Maria's expression immediately.
He enjoyed the way her features relaxed whenever he spoke about her concepts and ideas.
"The students would have moved in large numbers to the football field today," she began. "I heard it's a big day between the school's top football teams. That's part of the event theme."
"I'm sure there'll be follow-up sports activities too," Miles replied.
"We're early," Maria said. "We should check the company's vending machines first. If the pudding sales have been consistent over the past four school days, then we're making progress. It means we can monitor expansion beyond high school sports teams—teenagers overall."
"Where are the vending machines currently located?" he asked.
"One was strategically placed in the school council hall where students usually practice dancing—cheerleading, and group performances," she explained. "The other was placed in the school gym—activity fuel with vitamins."
Miles felt his trousers kick as she nipped gently on her lower lip, but he lifted his focus to her eyes instead.
"Which are we visiting first?" he asked again.
"The council hall is closer," she replied. "The gym is nearer to the field."
Her voice softened slightly as her eyes lowered.
"I think it'll be more convenient that way."
"Indeed it will," Miles said. "Lead the way."
A warm flush crossed her face before she answered quietly.
"Yes sir."
She turned to reach for her bag, and almost instinctively, Miles' eyes dropped as she bent.
The fabric of her dress shifted with the movement, outlining her round curves as she picked up her white handbag before quickly straightening to face him, clutching it while avoiding his gaze.
"Is there something else we're waiting for?" he asked evenly, as if clueless about her discomfort.
"No, Sir," she replied before moving past him.
He followed, controlling his stare from resting on her restless curves stirred by her movements.
He stretched the fist in his pocket, suspicious that the tightness of his trousers was becoming visible.
Her steps echoed softly against the polished white tiles as they moved through the hallway toward the elevator split.
The corridor was mostly empty as they strolled through it.
Maria turned left unexpectedly.
Miles followed without question.
Another hallway stretched ahead—quieter, more isolated.
He noticed the shift immediately. Fewer sounds.
More space.
Less distraction.
An open door appeared ahead.
His gaze flickered toward her rear once more before she stepped through, leading him into the wide room—an open hall with vinyl flooring reflecting the overhead round lights in the ceiling.
A few folding chairs were scattered in clusters, most lying on the floor.
Miles stopped beside her.
No vending machine.
"I was sure this was one of the stations," Maria murmured, a small crease forming between her brows.
"Come on, guys," a boy's voice called from behind.
They turned.
A group of teenagers—four boys and two girls in orange trackwears, probably sportswear, moving quickly, like they were trying to finish a task before being interrupted.
"Hey!" Miles called, already anticipating the answer.
The teenagers paused and exchanged glances, a little irritated but scared they might be teachers.
"Where's the vending machine?" Miles asked.
"Oh," one of the girls said. "The principal approved for it to be moved to the field. You can ask her—we promise."
Then they were gone again, disappearing past them with chairs in hand.
Miles turned back to Maria.
She exhaled, a small blush rising at the information.
"Oh my," she muttered under her breath.
Miles glanced at her. "Satisfying consumer behavior signal."
She nodded, covering up with a smile. "It will be meaningful to observe it in the field."
"The gym?" he asked.
"We'll check it too," she replied, already turning.
He followed.
"It's just a short distance before the field," Maria added as they moved deeper into the corridor.
Miles' intrusive thoughts surfaced—to corner her against one side of the empty hallway and feel her curves enough to linger with him through the entire day.
"Sir," her voice cut in softly and his attention snapped back to her face.
They had reached another open space. It was a ' walk-in before you see' situation, where grey walls gave way to a brighter interior opposite the main room lit by white lights spilling across the space.
"This is the gym," she said.
"Still right behind you, Maria," he replied.
And he meant it in more ways than one.
Knowing fully well that if he acted on his thoughts, her reluctant resistance would only make it more satisfying for him.
**
Maria hesitated before stepping inside the gym.
The air shifted immediately—cooler, filtered, carrying that faint sterile scent of maintained equipment and polished surfaces.
Her flats sank into the turf-like gym flooring as she moved further in, scanning the room.
Three rows of equipment spread across the space, clean and structured.
And there it was—the vending machine.
The tall transparent glass fridge announced its spot at the other end of the gym before she could properly tip her toes to peep.
She inhaled, almost cursing out her disappointment.
She had hoped the kids had moved this vending machine too.
She looked back at Miles and his gaze met hers instantly.
"Smart placement," he said.
She bit her lower lip.
Did they have to go in for a closer look?
"I'd like to check maintenance," he added, his gaze deliberately dropping to her rear.
Maria looked forward, almost hissing with steam at his manipulative self, but she moved on anyway—torn between enjoying his attention and snapping at his audacity.
She arrived before the vending machine and stood in front of it, its height at least three inches above her five-foot-eight frame.
Rows of cup puddings lined the machine—each row a different flavor—with silver side outlet trays designed with precise coin deposits, set into silver slots against the green exterior.
The company name—GOATASTE—was printed boldly across each plate pack, enough to advertise itself without any additional branding.
Construction in the background, product in focus.
"Clean," Miles' voice came from behind her.
She didn't turn this time; instead, she shifted slightly.
"I personally sent in the designs of these vending machines," she said. "It's a bit tall for the average person, but that's useful—it promotes kindness from taller people."
Maria let out a small giggle at her own explanation, amused by the contrast between the machine's height and her own.
"Chai spice is actually the last row in the machine," he said. "Your favorite flavor, I recall?"
Maria glanced over her shoulder.
He remembered.
"It's probably hot out there," he added, voice slightly closer. "Perhaps you need my kindness to get you a cup."
Her body tensed then eased as he stepped beside her.
"The other machine doesn't have chai spice," she said quietly.
"I don't have a coin."
"I do," she replied, reaching into her bag.
She pulled one out and offered it to him.
"Here," she said, smiling.
He smirked and took the coin.
Her brain mentally reminded her that she was supposed to be angry at him.
He stepped closer to the machine, calm and precise, and slipped the coin into the last row.
A chai spice pudding slid into the tray with a soft mechanical sound, followed by a small transparent plastic spoon sliding out above it.
Miles reached for the pudding and handed it to her.
"Thank you," she said, collecting it with quiet glee.
"Pleasure's all mine," he replied.
"I still have more coins if you want some too," she offered. "Baileys isn't present, but I can recommend something amongst the flavors available that you might like."
"I have a flavor I like," he said, stepping back beside her, "but it's on the third row. It would be such a hassle to bend that low to get it."
Maria boiled again.
He was such a pervert—one whose attention she enjoyed far too much.
She stepped forward, pretending to examine the rows from top to bottom, then bent low, her hips shifting back as she exhaled dramatically and reached for a coin, slipping it into the slot.
The off-white vanilla pudding dropped into the tray along with its spoon and she picked it up.
She rose slowly, the motion sending a light involuntary sway through her buttocks as she straightened.
She turned to face Miles, and his gaze shifted to her face.
His eyes were dark—steady in a way that unsettled her thoughts.
"Here you go," she said, offering him the pudding.
"Thank you," he replied, taking it.
"You're welcome, sir," she said with a small smile.
Without warning, her eyes dropped to his hand as he lifted it to his tie, tugging it slightly loose from his neck.
"Make sure to remain beside me out in the field," he instructed.
"I might want to—" she began, then stopped, catching his look. "I need more movement; you're the one always complaining about how poorly I exercise."
"I'll take you on a gym date for that," he said casually. "It's less chaotic than high school fields."
"It's more like jealousy than chaotic," she muttered under her breath.
"And it doesn't cause fights," he added.
Maria grumbled internally, even if she knew to an extent, he was right.
"I'm sure Minchstone has better-behaved students," she said. "Jake was nice."
He held her gaze, and she looked away, pretending innocence.
"Hold unto this for me," Miles said simply, offering her his pudding plate.
Maria collected it, hiding her irritation as she stacked it carefully atop hers.
"Still behind you," he repeated.
Maria frowned and walked ahead toward the gym exit at the far end of the room, her steps a little sharper as she stomped lightly—not caring about the way her movements carried through her frame.
His footsteps followed behind her as they moved deeper into the hall.
The silence between them stretched thin until she saw the opening at the end of the corridor, daylight spilling as they approached.
She stopped at the threshold, inhaling the fresh air as it opened into a wide expanse of greenery stretched beneath the morning sky, divided into neatly trimmed square sections.
The weather was fair, the sky more grey than blue, the sun hidden behind clouds.
In the distance, a large, open structure echoed with students' cheers.
"We need to keep an eye on weather reports," Miles said, standing beside her.
"Something about fair weather that irks you, sir?" Maria asked.
"Weather in between always causes uncertainty," he replied. "I'm not a fan of downpours."
"Oh," Maria said quietly, though inwardly her smile widened. "I understand, sir."
"Let's go," he said, stepping forward as they continued toward the field.