8. Twist of Fate 3

At The Mall

Valerie exhaled, a quiet release of breath that left her feeling centered and calm. Moments later, the car glided into the multi-level car park. He slotted the luxury sedan into a reserved space, his security detail mirroring his actions precisely nearby. Her hand moved to the door release, but his voice, soft yet firm, stopped her.

“Kindly wait for me. I will do that for you. Okay?”

She stilled, her gaze following as he unclipped his seatbelt. He emerged from the car, a study of deliberate motion, and rounded the hood to her side. He opened the door for her to reveal him standing there, his eyes holding hers as he held it for her, an unspoken offer of respect in the gesture.

“Thank you, for this, Boss,” she said, slipping out of the passenger seat.

“Consider it as nothing,” Brian responded, closing the door with a solid thud.

Despite her simple, worn clothes that stood in stark contrast to his impeccable tailoring, he offered his arm without a hint of hesitation. He walked proudly beside her, his posture defying the invisible divide of their status, and led her into the bustling, neon-lit mall.

“Kindly get the groceries. I will be with you shortly,” he instructed, already glancing toward the distant glitter of the jeweler’s row. A secret mission pulled him away.

“I got you, Boss," she affirmed, and they parted ways.

He returned just a few minutes later, the weight of a small, profound box settled in his pocket. He found her at the designated counter, a bag of groceries in her arms. He settled the bill with a casual swipe of his card, and they left.

At Brian's House

The car crunched to a halt on the gravel driveway. Valerie was out first, moving toward the trunk to retrieve the groceries, but his hand gently caught her elbow.

“The janitor will take care of the stuff,” he informed her, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“I got it,” she conceded, falling into step behind him as he led the way inside.

In the vast, professional-grade kitchen, he gestured to a crisp apron hanging on a hook. As she reached for it, he asked, “Do you need my assistance?”

Her answer was a silent, gentle shake of her head before she turned to tie the strings herself, a picture of quiet efficiency.

“Your fruits will be ready in a short while,” she promised, already selecting a knife.

“It's okay,” he said, and retreated to the parlor.

There, the urge to close the distance between them, to touch her, surged with a heat that alarmed him. He feared its intensity, certain it could unravel the careful threads of their relationship. Seeking a distraction, he strode to his bedroom, secreted the velvet ring box in the drawer of the headboard, and shed his formal wear. He pulled on breathable sporting attire, the fabric a welcome shield.

He moved to his private gym, attacking the treadmill with a focused ferocity that matched the rhythm of the driving music. It was a poor substitute for calm, his mind remained filled with her, but it was infinitely better than sitting idle in the parlor, a slave to his thoughts.

After some time, she arranged the sliced fruits artfully on a platter and carried it to the dining table. She looked around the empty parlor.

“Where is he?” she murmured to the silence.

At that moment, a faint, rhythmic beat pulsed from behind a closed door. Drawn by the sound, she approached and pushed the door ajar. The sight within enraptured her. There he was, a portrait of powerful motion, his exposed legs and arms corded with muscle and dusted with dark hair. 

Now, an unexplainable sensation, a thrilling current, sparked over her skin. Instantly, a responsive hardness tightened her nipples and a distinct wetness bloomed deep within her. Her lips parted on a soft gasp; her errand to call him for the appetizer vanished from her mind.

Meanwhile, despite the chill of the air-conditioner, sweat sheened his skin. In a fluid motion, he grabbed the hem of his jersey and pulled it up to his chest, wiping his brow. Her eyes drank in the revelation of his abdomen - a sculpted six-pack, each muscle defined and perfectly balanced.

“He is lovely,” the praise escaped her in a whisper, a moment where she forgot she was the chef and he was the boss, remembering only that she was a woman utterly captivated by a man.

Nevertheless, he continued exercising even when he was tired. Suddenly, his bracelet fell off his hand and he stopped. Since he was alone, he was not bothered about his erect penis and got down from the treadmill to pick it up. 

He was surprised to see her and pulled down his jersey at once to cover his stomach. Valerie felt awkward to be caught peeping, especially by her Boss. She pretended not to see anything and stated her mission.

“I wish to inform you that the fruit is ready, Boss,” she announced and walked back to the kitchen.

The disorganized Brian was mute because he could not tell how long she had been standing there or what she saw. Nevertheless, seeing her face worsened his case by increasing his sexual urge.

“My goodness! He looked at his erect penis and mumbled, "I hope she did not see this?” 

To ease himself, he walked to the restroom, urinated, and took a warm bath. Afterward, he drank a bottle of water and felt better. He got to the dining table and saw the fruits and nuts.

“This is nice,” he told himself and invited her to join him.

 Just as Jane instructed her, she obeyed, “Okay, Boss."

She slid into the seat opposite him, their eyes meeting for a fleeting, electric moment before darting away. A heavy silence settled between them. Brian, noting her unease, coaxed her with a velvety tone, “You are a good girl, Valerie. Eat your fruit.”

A faint pout touched her lips as she dabbed the perspiration from her brow. “Thank you for the compliment,” she murmured, her voice barely a whisper.

She began to eat, hyper-aware of his gaze lingering on her, a lecherous weight she could feel without even looking up. Every time her eyes lifted, they found his waiting, trapping her in that silent, unnerving appraisal. His eyes were a pale, calculating blue, the color of a winter sky just before a storm. They did not blink so much as they held, fixed on her with a possessive, almost predatory stillness. 

He wasn't just looking at her; he was dissecting her, his gaze a slow, tactile journey from the nervous flutter of her throat to the way her fingers trembled around the fork. It was a look that stripped away layers, claiming not just her attention but her very space, making her feel both seen and utterly consumed.

After the final bite, she dabbed her lips with a napkin and offered a shy, grateful smile. “Thank you for the meal, Boss.”

A soft smile touched his lips. “You don’t need to thank me. Really, there's no need to bother.”

“It’s okay, Boss,” she murmured, her voice barely a whisper as she looked down at her hands.

A comfortable, yet puzzling, calm settled over her. After a few moments of silence, she gathered the courage to ask the question hanging in the air. “Did I… did I pass the test, Boss?”

“Shhh.” Gently, he placed a finger on her lips, the touch quieting her words. “No more questions. You’ve worked hard today; you need to rest. Okay?”

Her eyes met his, and she fell silent. He then guided her to the sofa, where the soft glow of the television soon lulled her into a deep sleep. As he watched the steady rise and fall of her chest, a fond smile graced his features. 

“Beautiful girl,” he whispered into the quiet parlor.

Careful not to wake her, he scooped her into his arms and carried her to his bed, settling her against the pillows to spare her a stiff neck. For a long moment, he simply admired the peaceful expression on her face before bending down to press a light, lingering kiss to her temple.

“I love you, my wife,” he said to himself and raised her dress.

"Huh! I can't wait to have you, Valerie," he said and pulled out his hard dick.

He looked at her innocent face before he looked at his dick.

"I can wait," he said, pulling down her dress and covering up.

 Afterward, he returned to the parlor and worked from there.

To his vexation, his phone rang. Seeing Jane’s name, he snatched it up. “What is the matter with you?” he barked. “Do you want to disrupt my interview?” He hung up abruptly, his thunderous tone enough to make Jane shiver miles away. With a hiss of irritation, he returned to his work.

Meanwhile, three hours later, Valerie woke, refreshed and invigorated. She was surprised to find herself in an unfamiliar, beautiful bedroom. With no memory of how she got there, she called out in trepidation, “Jane?”