Miles lifted himself from the water, rising to his feet with his glass of soft-drink in hand just as his eyes met Maria's across the pool.
The sea breeze moved through them both as he walked toward her, tugging at his hair—and hers as well.
Even before reaching her, his eyes assessed her choice of swimwear—modest in length, yet revealing.
He had guessed her option right.
The long mesh skirt was perfect—teasing her smooth, full thighs beneath it, curves framing her waist down to the hidden temptation between them.
By the time he stopped before her, she was already flustered, the pool-lights casting a warm glow over the faint tension in her expression.
"Hello sir," Maria said as he arrived, placing his glass down on the set-up table before looking back at her.
"Again with the formalities, Maria?" he asked.
"I'm only here under your authority," she replied with a small, composed smile. "So I won't drop formalities, sir."
Miles' jaw tightened. The attitude was expected—even if the thought that she would never come to him out of choice irritated him more than he cared to admit.
Without responding, he moved closer watching her tense slightly, her composure faltering just enough for him to notice.
Then with a smirk, he stepped behind her and pulled out the chair for her.
"Have a seat," he said, enjoying the mix of hesitation and frustration that crossed her face as she lowered herself into the chair he had pulled out.
He watched the full curve of her body as she bent before settling into it.
She adjusted herself, following his movements as he returned to his own seat, sitting before placing the bouquet of roses—formerly on his chair—at the center of the table between them.
He leaned back, watching her closely. Her gaze briefly dropped to his chest before she looked away.
Vanessa arrived carrying two short candles in square glass holders on a small wooden tray.
She placed one on Miles's side and the other on Maria's.
Soft flames cast a warm glow over the table, the beige tablecloth grounding their flicker.
Vanessa opened the dish before him, releasing the scent of shrimp pasta and tomatoes in the air.
She poured clear wine into his glass before doing the same for Maria.
Miles held back a chuckle as Maria's eyes lit up at the meal before her.
Then Vanessa uncovered a larger plate of juicy roasted brown meat with tiny vegetable toppings.
"Do enjoy your meal," Vanessa said with a smile before stepping away.
Miles watched Maria bite her lip, clearly debating whether to start first.
"The mixture of seafood and land-based flavors," Miles said, leaning forward to grab his cutlery, "always creates something more refined with pasta."
Maria glanced at him, then slowly picked up her cutlery as well. "Pasta gives room for taste to breathe," she replied, placing her fork and spoon into her food. "That's why it works."
She lifted a forkful of pasta, stabbing a shrimp at its end before bringing it to her lips.
Miles did the same, savoring the mix of dull and sharp flavor while his eyes stayed on her as she chewed.
He swallowed, lightly licking the inner edge of his lips. "What that implies is that pasta never fully blends in taste, even when it's seasoned."
"I assumed the main market for it is customers who value the space within regular, moderate dishes," she said, rolling another forkful.
"Arguably not meant to stand as a single meal?" he asked, cutting a slice of meat and adding it to his pasta before lifting it to his mouth.
She swallowed and exhaled, dropping an arm behind her plate, the movement revealing the twin fullness of her cleavage as she twirled her fork with uncertainty. "Maybe some people like it independent, but I doubt that."
Miles sipped his soft-drink, ignoring the wine Vanessa had poured.
He didn't need anymore alcohol in his system for the rest of the weekend.
He watched her lift another forkful of pasta to her mouth, her movement shifting her chest forward as she guided the fork between her lips.
"It isn't produced to be consumed independently," Miles said, lifting his gaze to her eyes.
Her attention flickered to the flowers, then back to her meal before she swallowed.
Low saxophone music drifted across the deck as the yacht moved gently through the water.
Maria looked to the side, admiring the waves in the distance.
"How long are you planning on keeping up with Daniel?" Miles asked.
Maria paused before she went back to her food. "I'd prefer not to discuss that, sir."
"This isn't work, Maria." Miles replied, he wasn't going to let her avoid the question this time.
**
Maria shifted in her chair, acutely aware of his question pressing down on her, weighing whether to be cautious with her answer or not.
"I'm not keeping up with him," she said softly, focusing on her fork as it twirled through the pasta. "He was just happy for me…wanted to show his support."
"And before now?"
Maria lifted her eyes to him. The subtle annoyance in his tone lingered in his stare.
"Daniel has been supportive before now…even if he can be difficult sometimes."
"And you trust him—and have been having him?" Miles asked again, his look pinning hers, unsettling enough that she struggled to look away.
"T-That's personal, sir." Maria replied nervously, dropping her eyes anyway.
It had been a while since she and Daniel were intimate—but Miles didn't need to know about that.
Cutlery clinked softly. The wind carried his cologne toward her as he spoke again. "Between the shrimp and steak, which do you think is the best combination with pasta?"
Maria looked at him, confused.
He tilted his head slightly toward the meat between them—urging her without words—before lifting another forkful of pasta and shrimp to his mouth.
She leaned forward to take a slice, catching from her peripheral vision the way his gaze lingered on her chest, briefly shifting as she cut through the juicy steak and transferred it back to her plate.
Enjoying his attention, she bounced faintly— deliberately—adjusting in her seat.
By the time she met his eyes again, he had already swallowed.
She twirled her fork through the pasta, stabbing a small slice of steak along with it before bringing it to her mouth, savoring the deeper, richer blend—the roasted meat melting into the pasta far longer than the brief sharpness of the shrimp.
"Mmm," she murmured after swallowing. "Steak is really good…i think steak."
"So good," Miles replied, lifting his glass. "It's undeniable."
He sipped.
Maria proceeded to cut herself a bigger slice this time, eager to taste it again.
"It's a taste you don't want to miss," Miles added, setting his glass down.
Maria smiled faintly to herself, bringing the slice back to her plate. At least he wasn't judging how much she enjoyed good food—especially when it tasted like this.
"You've been enjoying his control before now?" Miles asked again.
Her fingers weakened around her cutlery, then tightened.
Tempted to give him the answer he sought for.
"Well…he isn't always a jerk to me," she said, aware even as she spoke that 'wasn't' would have fit better in her sentence than 'isn't'.
She dared a glance at him.
The look on his face—sharp and displeased—met her instantly as he leaned back in his chair, the three open buttons of his shirt exposing the firm line down the center of his chest.
Her gaze dipped before she could stop it, then quickly returned to her plate.
"Should I…" she began, hesitating. "Should I cut you a slice sir?"
"Yes," he replied. "A slice…rolled with pasta, too."
Maria inhaled quietly, masking her annoyance.
He was indirectly asking her to feed him—from her own plate.
Still, she obeyed.
By the time her fork was filled with pasta and a neatly stabbed slice of steak, she looked up to find Miles already leaning forward against the table—amusement flickering in his eyes.
"It's because you asked, sir," she said, more for herself than him, as she leaned forward and guided the fork to his mouth.
Her eyes caught his again—dipping to her chest.
Slowly and deliberately, she withdrew the fork, leaning back and shifting just enough into her seat to make the top of her breasts bounce involuntarily.
Then she lifted her glass, sipping her wine—watching him from over the rim as he leaned back, chewing, still observing her.
She lowered her glass.
"A slice might never be enough," he said finally, meeting her eyes.
**
Miles observed Maria's satisfied expression after the meal as she gently dabbed the warm napkin at the corners of her lips, leaving them soft, full, natural.
Vanessa moved between them, clearing the table with quiet efficiency, stacking the empty dishes onto a metal rack.
She offered Maria a polite smile, which was returned, before wiping the table top with a spray and white cloth.
As Vanessa refilled the glasses and adjusted the tray full of grapes neatly between them, Miles caught a flick of Maria's attention flicking briefly to the flowers before drifting toward the yacht rail, where the city's illuminated buildings were now coming into view across the night sea.
"Do you want a closer look?" he asked as Vanessa moved, rolling the plate rack away from them.
She turned back to him, considering—fully aware it meant they would have to walk and stand if he guessed her reply correctly.
"If it wouldn't be a problem…sir."
He finished his drink and rose.
Her eyes followed him, though they quickly dropped as she reached into her purse.
"Just a little lipgloss," she murmured, gliding the wand of a small transparent tube across her lips before standing.
The candlelight traced her waist, slipping down over the full and perfect curves of her form.
Miles stepped forward, offering his arm.
He felt her hesitation—then her fingers slid into place, looping around it.
The brush of her hip against his, her chest drawing closer as they walked toward the yacht rail, teased his imagination—how they would feel bare in his palms.
Sax music swelled softly as they reached the rail, while the evening breeze carried her faint vanilla scent. He enjoyed the way she leaned closer into him as they watched the city lights from afar.
"Your certainty about Daniel's intentions…is a hundred percent?" he asked, unable to hold back his curiosity.
Her body tensed beside him and she straightened a little, but his arm remained firm.
"It would be a problem and unheard of if anyone thinks we're involved beyond work," she said quietly.
Miles scoffed. 'Think' wasn't the right word,'Know' would be more accurate.
"I simply asked how much you trust him despite his behavior toward you," he said, and she tensed again, but he didn't care how the words landed.
"I really don't like to talk about it sir," she replied, attempting to pull away—but his grip held.
"And you'd stay with him…even knowing your place in his life," he added, ignoring her.
She stilled and relaxed, realizing she couldn't pull away even if she wanted to.
In the distance, a multicolored light globe flickered continuously atop a skyscraper.
"That's really pretty," she said softly.
Miles glanced at her instead as the lights reflected faintly on her face, her expression fixed in quiet awe at the display.
"Imagine if it wasn't allowed to shine," he said.
Her gaze flickered to him—then away again.
He loosened his arm. "Go on. You can get closer."
Her hand withdrew from his.
Slowly, she stepped forward toward the silver rail.
His eyes dropped instinctively to her rear, tracing her round curves softly lit by the reflecting pool lights.
Then she leaned forward, looking out over the water.
The smooth skin of her bare waist tempted him, but not nearly as much as when she began swaying faintly to the music, enjoying the view.
He looked up and caught her looking back at him over her shoulder—then she looked away.
"You seem…fond of Daniel," she said. "I don't think he'll be happy if he found out—"
She stopped as Miles moved closer beside her, hiding her disappointment as if she'd expected a different reaction.
He smirked and looked ahead.
"What makes you think he hasn't?"
Her head snapped toward him.
She swallowed and drew back.
He turned with her but remained where he was, watching, relaxed against the rail, hands in his pockets.
"And your image isn't as pristine as you think," he added.
"I'd like to go home sir," she said quietly, folding both arms across her chest.
"Not yet."
Her grip around herself tightened and his gaze dropped briefly to the exposed curve of her chest, slightly pushed higher.
His mouth watered with the memory of their taste.
"I am…" she said, voice strained. "I am not an object."
Something in her expression shifted—pain, sharp and visible.
Miles stepped forward instantly, gripping her arm and pulling her back against him, his arms circling her waist.
Maria gasped, palms bracing against his chest as she leaned back, resisting—but not fully.
"Even thinking about him," Miles murmured, holding her closer, "makes you feel less."
Her palms lingered.
They did not push at all despite her earlier resistance.
**
Maria battled the satisfaction of Miles' arms around her.
The shame she had felt thinking he was mocking her had dissolved into something sharper, deeper.
Her fingers craved the bare muscles beneath the coolness of his shirt.
"I can't leave Daniel…not now," she managed, her mind still trying to reason.
Miles was the epitome of audacity, but he owned it even as he had no right to what he boldly asked for.
His breath brushed her neck as her palms grew weaker against him.
"But you knew," she whispered. "You knew what I wanted and used it, and still you ask for more."
His hands slid lower and she looked up at him, her attention settling on his lips.
Her fingers curved gently against his chest.
"That's because I know what's good for you, Maria," he responded as her eyes lifted to meet his.
"And I'm not sure I know Daniel's intentions well enough to believe he would ever give you a reason to have me instead," she replied.
His eyes narrowed.
She bit her lip, realizing she might have gone too far.
"I don't take well to the implication that I'm being controlled," he said.
"S-sorry," she murmured, trying to take the chance to wiggle out of his grip but he held on—his fingers brushing lower across the curve of her buttocks.
Her body reacted before she could stop it, lids lowering as she exhaled softly, her head tilting toward him.
The flashing lights reflected across his face as the yacht drifted slowly past.
For a moment, it felt like they could remain like that—without complication, without consequence—even if only for a while.
Then his arms loosened.
She straightened quickly, catching herself—her thoughts, her body as well.
"The night is yet to get interesting," Miles said with a smile.
He took her hand, leading her back to the table where the flowers still lay.
Perhaps genuine—unlike Daniel's.
"It's the end of the week," he said. "Mapla has a way of celebrating it. Any moment now, the sky will fill with fireworks."
Maria lifted her face, a hint of excitement breaking through.
"And I thought I'd been in Mapla long enough," she said with a soft chuckle.
"And the best part," Miles added with a smirk, "is the view from inside the pool."
Maria's breath caught—the reminder settling in.
The bikini was not just aesthetic, it was definitely functional too.