Was the Prajes Vesperat? I had forgotten about the grapes. At that moment, she decided she hated grapes. With no other choice, she wept to get to the door. Halfway there, she realized she was only wearing a camisole and raced back to her room for a shirt. She had been running back and forth, and with all the anxiety and nerves, she was already out of breath by the time she opened the door. Tiny beads of sweat had formed on her forehead.

Noticing the sweat, Dominic raised an eyebrow and asked, “Were you exercising?”

“Farming is good for your health,” Vespera responded.

Austerely, she looked down at the bug he was holding and leaned forward to take it.

“I’ll take it from here. Thanks for coming all this way to give them to me, Mr. Reid. You should head back now.”

Just as she was about to grab the bag, he switched it to his other hand, leaving her lunging in midair.

“So this is how you thank someone who came all the way to bring you grapes?”

She almost choked on her own saliva. There was no way she could make him leave now.

“Please, come in.” She stepped aside and gestured for him to enter.

He walked in and handed her the grapes. “Raymond said they taste better cold.”

Vespera was speechless. If they were so delicious, they should’ve just kept them for themselves. She forced a smile and nodded as she took the bag, then gestured for him to sit while she headed into the kitchen.

Once she was in the kitchen, her smile disappeared. Panic took over her. She reminded herself to act like he was just a relative who decided to drop by. But he wasn’t. He was her boss. A man she’d been intimate with more than once.

A story formed in her head. It was another long night, where a running fox showed up with sour grapes at a single woman’s door. And the woman happened to be raging with hormones. The bag in her hand suddenly felt hot and moist, just like her heart… five minutes later, she returned with a cup of iced mint water. “Mr. Reid, have a drink.” She set it down in front of him.

He looked at it and said, “Actually, Ms. Cildon, I’m not that thirsty.” Vespera silently cursed him to just drink the damn water and shut up, while keeping a pleasant smile.

“Should I get you something else?” she asked.

“No, it’s fine. I’ll just have this,” he said.

Seeing that she was still standing, he gestured for her to sit down. “Aren’t you sitting down?”

Vespera took a seat. Living alone, she’d thought one couch and a recliner on the balcony were enough. But with Dominic sitting right in the middle of the couch, no matter which end she picked, she’d end up sitting awfully close to him.

Just when she thought the day was over, another battle began. Their conversation went from the weather to seasonal fruits. It somehow ended up in an in-depth discussion about Raymond’s sour grapes—from their taste to nutritional value, even elevating them to an art form. Any language teacher who listened would’ve given them a standing ovation.

By the end, her throat felt like it was on fire. Meanwhile, Dominic was calmly sipping his mint water, smiling without saying much. He listened closely with his eyes fixed on her. Occasionally, he’d chime in. Though Vespera seemed to be carrying the conversation just fine, inside she was screaming. She wanted him to leave so badly and was already at her wit’s end.

“Vera,” he suddenly said in a soft, teasing voice.

She flinched. A jolt of numbness surged through her, like electricity. It felt as if a feather hand hushed over her most sensitive areas.

What did he just call her?

He passed her the last cup of water and leaned in. His lips were dangerously close. “You’ve been talking all night. Come, Vesper,” he said flirtatiously.

Her lively held her breath. What was she trying to ask? To drink from his glass?

Dead still, and a sudden tension filled the space, creeping in from every shadowed corner. It was invasive, as if someone had cast a spell on the very air.