Chapter 3
887 Words
Tracy’s POV
“Wine glasses?”
Is he serious right now? He could’ve asked the chef or the maids. Better yet, he could’ve just looked around—it’s not like the wine glasses are hidden. And I’m off work. I just wanted some alone time, but apparently, peace isn’t on the menu today.
I sighed, suppressing my irritation. “Um… I’ll get them for you,” I said, my voice calmer than I felt.
Walking to the bar area, I immediately spotted the glasses. Not hidden at all. Rolling my eyes, I reached for one, tiptoeing to grab it, but I was too short. At just five feet, this was a daily struggle.
Then I heard him behind me.
A deep, smooth voice. “Don’t worry, I’ll get it.”
Before I could react, I felt his hands on my waist. A gentle yet firm squeeze. Heat rushed through me, freezing me in place.
My breath hitched.
His other hand reached above me, effortlessly grabbing the glass. His body was close—too close. I could feel his warmth, even with the air conditioning on full blast. The scent of his expensive cologne mixed with something uniquely him filled my senses, making my heart pound.
I swallowed hard. Move, Tracy. Just move. But if I shifted even a little, my body would press against his, and that was the last thing I wanted—or needed.
Seconds passed, feeling like an eternity. I felt him hesitate, his hand lingering on my waist. And then, just as suddenly, he pulled away.
I didn’t wait. I turned and walked away—slowly, deliberately forcing myself not to run.
What was that?
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Richard’s POV
I can’t get her out of my mind.
I’ve tried. I’ve told myself she’s just another girl, but it’s a lie.
Ever since that moment in the kitchen, she’s been consuming my thoughts. At first, I thought I was just amused by her—by the way she speaks to me so fearlessly, like she doesn’t care who I am. No one has ever dared to talk to me that way before.
But now I realize it’s not amusement. It’s something else entirely.
She’s so beautiful.
I watch her whenever she’s near my mother, and it makes sense—she was hired to keep Mom company. And my mother adores her. I’ve never seen her so fond of someone outside the family.
And I get it. Tracy is different. She’s soft, delicate, yet there’s a quiet strength in her. Her caramel-toned skin glows effortlessly, her natural Afro framing her face in a way that makes her look like a painting come to life. Her features are gentle—big, expressive eyes, full lips, a soft, round face that makes her look almost ethereal.
She looks… untouched. Innocent. Like she hasn’t been ruined by the world yet.
I’ve been with my fair share of women. Stunning, sophisticated women. But none of them made me feel like this.
What is it about her that has me hooked?
After lunch with my mother, my aunt, her husband, and my cousins, I found myself walking toward the kitchen. Looking for her. I told myself I was just curious, but that was another lie.
The chef was there, but Tracy wasn’t. “She’s in her room,” the chef said, and before I could stop myself, I was heading there.
Then I heard her voice.
She was on the phone, speaking softly. I was about to knock—until I heard it.
“I love you.”
I stopped. My entire body tensed.
She has a boyfriend.
Why does that annoy me? I don’t know. I shouldn’t care, but I do.
Without thinking, I knocked—loudly.
When she finally opened the door, I just stood there. My brain had a thousand things to say, but my mouth betrayed me.
“Where are the wine glasses?”
The dumbest question of the century.
She looked at me, her brows slightly furrowed, before nodding. “Um… sure, I’ll get them for you.”
I followed her to the bar area, watching as she reached for the glasses.
Then I did something reckless.
I stepped behind her, close enough to inhale her scent—vanilla and something sweet. My fingers found her waist before I could stop myself.
Soft.
I squeezed gently, feeling the warmth of her body. She stiffened instantly, her breath hitching, but she didn’t move. I felt the tension in her, the uncertainty.
And I wanted more.
I reached up with my other hand, grabbing the glass, but I let the moment stretch longer than it should have.
I wanted to stay there, to keep touching her, to hear her breath quicken again.
But I pulled away. I forced myself to.
When I turned back, she was gone.
I ran a hand through my hair, frustrated.
What the hell is happening to me?
She doesn’t even realize it. She doesn’t see the way she’s wrapping me around her little finger without even trying.
And that terrifies me.
Because for the first time in my life, I don’t feel in control.
And I don’t know what to do about it.
- Writer
