Todos os capítulos de FALLING FOR MY MOM’S FIANCÉ : Capítulo 11 - Capítulo 20

Maya I wake up on Tuesday morning with a plan. Not the big, reckless plan I’d made before, by seducing Philip to destroy his engagement, but something smaller, more deliberate. If I’m going to get close to him, I need to play the long game. To make him see me not as Monica’s daughter, but as a woman who knows what she wants.I skip the conservative blouse and pencil skirt today, opting for a black silk blouse that dips just low enough to be interesting, paired with tailored trousers and the red-flowered scarf Chloe gave me. I pull my hair back in a loose bun, leaving a few strands to fall across my face—something I know drives men crazy. When I look in the mirror, I barely recognize myself. I look confident. Dangerous. Ready.The subway ride is quieter than usual today, most people are still half-asleep, coffee cups in hand, staring blankly at their phones. I pull out my laptop and open the Project Phoenix files, but I can’t focus. All I can think about is Philip…his hands, his eyes,

I nod, following him out of his office. Sarah looks up as we pass, her eyes widening slightly before she smiles and goes back to her work. The elevator ride down is quiet, we stand on opposite sides, not touching, but the air between us is thick with unspoken words and things we can’t name.When we step out onto the street, the city is alive..Cars honking, people walking by with shopping bags, street vendors calling out their wares. Philip leads me to a black sedan parked at the curb, opening the door for me with a small smile.“Thank you,” I say, sliding into the back seat.He gets in beside me, and the driver pulls away from the curb. We sit in silence for a few minutes, watching the city pass by outside the window. Every so often, I feel his eyes on me…warm, heavy, making my skin prickle. I don’t look at him, but I know he’s there. I know he’s watching me.At one point, the car hits a pothole, and I lurch forward slightly. His hand shoots out to steady me, his fingers wrapping aro

Maya The silence in the elevator stretches on, long enough that my breath starts to come in short, shallow pulls. Every inch of me is tuned into him: the way his thumb strokes the back of my hand, the steady beat of his heart I can feel through our joined fingers, the warm weight of his breath against my cheek.“I should have known this would happen,” he says, his voice low enough that only I can hear it. “That one day you’d walk into my life and turn everything upside down.”“You brought me here,” I whisper back, leaning in just a fraction closer. “You’re the one who asked me to be your intern. You’re the one who looked at me like I was more than just Monica’s daughter.”“I did.” His other hand comes up, brushing hair away from my face, his fingers graze my temple, then linger on my jaw. “But I never meant for it to be like this. Never meant to let you get so close.”“Too late for that.” My eyes drop to his lips, then back up to his face. The red emergency light casts shadows across

MayaSaturday night comes faster than I expect. I spend all day staring at my closet, pulling out outfit after outfit before finally settling on something simple but striking…a deep burgundy wrap dress that falls just above my knees, paired with black ankle boots and the red-flowered scarf Chloe gave me. I pin my hair back loosely, leaving strands to frame my face, and swipe on a touch of lipstick that matches the dress.The doorbell rings at six forty-five. When I open it, Ethan is leaning against the doorframe, wearing dark jeans, a white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and paint stains on his forearms that match the ones under his fingernails. He’s holding a small bouquet of wildflowers—daisies, poppies, and something blue I don’t recognize.“You look… wow.” He hands me the flowers, his eyes sweeping over me slowly. “I almost didn’t recognize you without your work clothes on.”I laugh, taking the bouquet and setting it in a vase by the door. “I could say the same abou

MayaThe sound of my name hangs in the air between us, settling deep in my chest. The office is quiet now, save for the hum of the air conditioning and the faint scratch of his pen on paper. Outside, the city is settling into early morning…streetlights dimming as the first hints of dawn creep over the skyline.“Let me see your hand,” he says, his voice low enough that only I can hear it.I look up from the mockups spread across his desk, confused. “My hand?”He nods, leaning forward slightly. “The one you scraped on the elevator door when we were stuck. I noticed it was bandaged earlier, I want to make sure it’s healing properly.”I hold out my right hand…the back is still tender, wrapped in a strip of gauze that’s starting to come loose at the edges. He takes it carefully, his fingers wrapping around mine in a loose hold. His touch is warm, firm but gentle, and I feel a jolt of heat that has nothing to do with healing wounds.He turns my hand over, examining the bandage. “You didn’t