When Dream Takes over

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In Mrs. Angela's Office...

The room was bright with golden light filtering through half-drawn curtains. Angela sat behind her sleek glass desk, tapping her manicured nails thoughtfully when the door creaked open.

A tall man in a black suit stepped in, carrying a sleek tablet. "Ma'am," he said, placing the device on her desk. "You'll want to see this."

Angela's sharp eyes focused as he tapped the screen, revealing a recent photo.

Rico and Jenna.

Together. Abroad.

Smiling. Side by side. Intimate.

Angela's brow twitched. She leaned forward slowly, narrowing her eyes at the image. "So... this is where the wind is blowing..." she whispered, an edge to her voice.

The man cleared his throat. "Shall I leak it on social media, Ma'am?"

Angela didn't answer immediately. She stood, walked to the large window overlooking the skyline, and finally murmured, "Not yet. I'll let you know... when it's time."

The man gave a small nod, then added with a smirk, "Funny how Clara has no idea what her golden boy is doing behind her back."

Angela laughed, the sound low and amused. "That's what makes it delicious."

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In Rico's Apartment – Private Movie Room...

Soft lighting glowed around the luxurious theater. Plush reclining chairs, velvet throws, and an array of snacks surrounded Rico and Ameya. A romantic film played on the wide screen—flickering scenes of longing gazes and gentle touches.

But Ameya wasn't focused on the film.

How can I enjoy this? she thought. Rico is sitting right beside me. Breathing next to me... watching with me... looking this good in a hoodie? She stole a glance, heart fluttering.

Rico turned to her just as she looked away. He quickly popped a piece of popcorn into his mouth, pretending not to notice.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Yes! I mean... yeah, the movie's fine."

Rico tilted his head. "Want to change it?"

"No! I mean—it's okay..."

They sat side by side, a bit of space between their chairs. Ameya sipped her juice nervously. Rico's gaze wandered, unknowingly drawn to her lips—glossy, delicate, soft. When Ameya turned toward him again, he quickly looked away.

"What kind of movies do you like?" he asked casually.

"I like Drama ," she replied, sipping again. "The emotional kind. More than movie."

He smiled.

She chuckled. "And you?"

"Action. Explosions. Fights. But..." He glanced sideways. "Lately, I've been into something... different."

Ameya blinked. What did he mean by that?

As the movie reached a kiss scene on screen, Ameya whispered to herself, "I can't even watch this kind of movie with him... If I was alone, it's okay, but..."

She realized too late—she'd spoken louder than she thought.

Rico turned to her. "What did you say?"

"N-nothing."

He smirked. Then, slowly, he leaned over and pressed a small button between the chairs. The barrier between them slid down.

"What are you doing?" Ameya asked, eyes wide.

Rico leaned even closer, voice teasing. "If you don't want to watch this with me... it's fine. We can…"

Ameya's heart raced. "W-we can... what?"

Rico didn't answer.

He kissed her.

Soft at first. Searching. Sincere.

The juice cup slipped from Ameya's hands. She gasped into his mouth, shocked by the tenderness—the passion—the undeniable love laced in the moment.

When he pulled back slightly, she whispered breathlessly, "Rico..."

But he kissed her again. This time longer, deeper. Between kisses, he said, "I can't... stop myself... Ameya. I'm sorry."

Another button click.

Their chairs transformed—now a soft bed beneath them. Rico's hand slid to her waist, the other brushing her hair behind her ear as he kissed her again. His body hovered gently above hers, never pressing, never demanding—just close enough for her to feel his presence like a heartbeat.Every touch was reverent. Every press of his lips told her how long he had held this in.

Her fingers gripped his shirt.

Ameya melted under him, heart pounding like thunder in her ears.

He kissed her jawline... then her neck... then gently the curve of her collarbone.

His hand traced along her cheek, slid down her neck, fingers brushing against the ribbon tie of her short overcoat. He tugged slightly—seeking permission, not pushing.

She placed her hand over his, stopping him.

He froze.

"I know the limits," he said gently. "I'll wait."

Then he placed a soft kiss on her lips—tender, meaningful. He moved to her cheek, her neck... then her collarbone.

With careful fingers, he untied the ribbon. The coat slipped open slightly, revealing her delicate top underneath. He pressed his lips to her exposed skin—soft kisses to her shoulder, the curve of her neck, the hollow between her collarbones.

Ameya melted beneath his touch.

Every kiss spoke volumes. Every breath between them was laced with a heat that words couldn't express.

It wasn't about rushing.

It was about feeling.

About fire and restraint.

About love.

And longing.

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In Mrs. Clara's Office...

Back in her pristine office, Mrs. Clara was sipping a cup of tea when her phone buzzed.

Angela.

"Hello, Angela."

"Clara, dear," Angela said smoothly, "My daughter's birthday is this weekend. I'd be honored if you'd come. Bring Rico too."

"How lovely!" Clara smiled. "We'd love to. I'll tell him."

After they hung up, Angela's smile widened. She whispered to herself, "You're going to have the biggest surprise at that party, Clara."

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To be continued...

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