When Dream Takes over

---

The lunch table held a calm air, but tension quietly simmered beneath it.

Ameya sat beside Michael on a wooden chair, her hands nervously resting on her lap. Across from them sat Rico, arms crossed, eyes fixed—watchful, silent, and clearly not happy.

Michael leaned slightly toward Ameya, trying to sound casual.

"Are you free next week?" he asked, his tone light but holding something hopeful beneath it.

Before Ameya could even open her mouth, Rico cut in sharply, "No."

Michael narrowed his eyes at Rico, unimpressed. "I wasn't talking to you," he said coldly. "I asked Ameya."

Ameya glanced awkwardly between them, unsure how to manage the rising tension.

"Actually… no," she replied softly, choosing neutrality over confrontation.

Michael raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Why? Another date, perhaps?" His voice dropped slightly, teasing but intent. "Or… you're just not interested in me?"

Ameya blinked in surprise. Before she could respond, Rico's jaw clenched. He bit his lower lip, clearly holding himself back.

Ameya hiccuped out of nowhere—whether from nervousness or sudden emotion, she wasn't sure.

Both men quickly leaned forward, grabbing the water glasses before them.

"Here," Rico said.

"Drink this," Michael added, nearly overlapping.

Ameya hesitated, looking between the two offered glasses. After a moment of indecision, she quietly took Rico's glass and drank. Rico smirked slightly. Michael leaned back, clearly annoyed.

Once lunch was over and the table began to clear, Michael stood up with a soft smile.

"Want to come back with me?" he asked.

Ameya shook her head gently. "No, I… need to buy snacks for our team."

Michael didn't let up. "Shall I come with you then?"

Rico watched the exchange with narrowed eyes, his jealousy obvious.

"No," Ameya said, sounding genuine. "I can manage."

Michael smiled and reached out to pat Ameya's head. "Alright. Take care."

That simple gesture made Rico's stomach twist. He stood abruptly.

"Rico, let's go," Michael offered.

Rico replied sharply, "No. I've got personal work. You go ahead."

After Michael left, Rico turned to Ameya without a word. Suddenly, he grabbed her hand and pulled her toward a quiet corner of the hotel corridor, pressing her gently against the wall. His arms trapped her softly, his face inches from hers, eyes intense.

"Rico…" she whispered, cheeks flaming. "Someone might see us… please step back."

He didn't move. "Why didn't you tell him you came here with me ?"

Ameya blinked. "That's because…" she trailed off.

Rico leaned closer, his breath warm on her skin. Ameya exhaled nervously.

"…Because Jenna hasn't told him yet. That I'm not her. That I'm Ameya," she whispered. "He still thinks I'm her."

At that, Rico eased slightly, giving her space. "Oh… right."

"So, if he sees me with you like this," she continued softly, "he'll misunderstand everything."

Rico nodded slowly, then said firmly, "Then tell Jenna to tell him soon." He leaned closer again, this time whispering in her ear. "Because I can't let you be with someone else."

Ameya's eyes widened. She caught the possessiveness in his tone and blinked.

"Are you jealous?" she asked with a teasing smile.

Rico scoffed. "No. I'm not that silly."

But Ameya smiled. She could feel it—he absolutely was.

They stood there in silence for a moment, until Ameya gently asked, "Why did your mom call you today? Is something wrong?"

Rico shook his head. "No. I came back to my apartment without informing her, so she scolded me. She wants me to visit next week."

"Then why did you plan our date for that day?" Ameya frowned. "You should go see her. She'll miss you."

Rico looked at her for a moment before leaning in again, this time placing a soft kiss on her forehead. His voice was low, heartfelt.

"How can I miss the date?" he murmured. "I miss you every day… every moment."

Ameya blushed deeply and smiled. She reached out and hugged him tightly, hiding her face against his chest.

---

Meanwhile, at Renhart Headquarters…

Clara Renhart sat at her sleek mahogany desk, flipping through documents with a hard glare. Her navy-blue suit was sharp and her expression even sharper.

She slammed a file shut. "Get me the assistant!" she barked.

Within seconds, a nervous young man entered. "Ma'am?"

"Why wasn't I informed our textile share dropped this far?!" Clara demanded.

"I told you, ma'am… during your conversation with Mrs. Angela…"

Before she could fire back, another assistant entered. "Ma'am, it's time for your private lunch meeting with Mrs. Angela."

Clara sighed and rose. "Right. I almost forgot. I'm coming."

---

In the Grand Hotel's Private Dining Hall…

Two powerful women sat across a lavish table.

Mrs. Clara Renhart and Mrs. Angela Watson, poised, elegant, and clearly used to the world of high-stakes business, dined while discussing a potential merger of their textile companies.

As the conversation turned from profits to family, Angela casually asked, "Did you talk to Rico?"

Clara sipped her wine. "Not yet. But he'll listen to me. He always has."

Angela narrowed her eyes slightly. "He chose his career once without your concern. I don't want that to happen again. It's my daughter's future at stake."

Clara placed her glass down. "Don't worry. I won't allow him to stray again."

Angela's lips curled in a confident smile. "Anyway… I'm excited. From business partners… to relatives."

Their gazes locked.

What began as a business deal was now weaving into something far more personal—a future neither Rico nor Ameya saw coming.

---

To be continued...