The evening light slanted through the tall windows of the penthouse gym, painting long shadows across the polished floor. Bryce had insisted on a workout after his day of meetings, and to his surprise, Kasmine had agreed to join him.
She struggled at first—her form unsteady, her body not used to the machines—but she kept at it, her determination shining through every bead of sweat that rolled down her flushed face. Bryce stood behind her, correcting her posture with firm hands, his deep voice guiding her.
"Back straight. Good. Now breathe."
Each time she looked up, she caught the faintest flicker of something in his eyes—amusement, maybe even pride.
By the time they finished, Kasmine was exhausted but glowing, her hair damp with sweat, her laughter soft and unrestrained. For a man like Bryce, who lived in constant control, her rawness was disarming.
After her shower, she slipped into the new clothes he had bought her—a soft cream dress that hugged her curves in the right places but still carried an air of innocence. When she stepped into the dining room, he looked up from his glass of whiskey and felt something catch in his chest.
She looked like she belonged here.
Dinner was already laid out, the scent rich and comforting. Kasmine had spent nearly an hour in the kitchen preparing it herself—roasted chicken seasoned perfectly, fresh vegetables, and a warm loaf of bread straight from the oven.
Bryce sat down at the table, his eyes lingering on her as she nervously placed the final dish. "Sit," he said simply, motioning to the chair beside him.
She hesitated. "But shouldn't I—"
"Sit." His tone left no room for argument, though it was gentler than usual.
She obeyed, her heart racing as he lifted his fork and took the first bite.
For a long moment, he said nothing. Kasmine twisted her fingers beneath the table, afraid she had done something wrong. But then his sharp features softened, his jaw relaxing as his eyes closed briefly, savoring the taste.
He swallowed slowly, setting down the fork. "I don't remember the last time food tasted this good."
Kasmine blinked, startled. "Really?"
His gaze drifted around the room—the warm lighting, the table set neatly, the faint sound of her humming still lingering in the air. For years, this mansion had been nothing more than walls and emptiness. A place to rest his body but never his heart.
But tonight, something was different.
He looked at her again, her small hands folded neatly in her lap, her lips pressed together in nervous anticipation.
"I don't remember the last time this house felt like a home," he admitted quietly, almost to himself.
Her chest tightened at his words. She wanted to respond, but she couldn't trust her voice. Instead, she simply smiled faintly and picked up her fork, eating beside him in silence.
But inside, her heart was soaring.
And Bryce, for the first time in a long while, didn't feel like the untouchable CEO everyone feared. He felt like a man. A man sitting at his table, sharing a meal with his wife.
The mansion didn't feel so cold anymore.
It was starting to feel like home.
Later that night, after dinner, Bryce and Kasmine settled on the couch to watch a movie together. The lights were dimmed, the huge television screen casting a soft glow across the living room. At first, it was just comfortable silence—her sitting close beside him, his arm casually stretched along the backrest behind her shoulders.
But as the movie heated up with a romantic scene, so did the atmosphere between them. Kasmine's heart raced when she felt his hand gently pull her closer. She dared to glance up, only to find his deep gaze already fixed on her.
Before she could look away, Bryce leaned in, brushing his lips against hers in a tender kiss. She gasped softly, but then his mouth claimed hers more hungrily, his hand cradling the back of her head. The kiss grew hotter, deeper, until she felt her entire body trembling.
He lifted her onto his lap, his arms tightening around her waist as the kiss left her breathless. For a moment, Bryce forgot everything—forgot the contract, forgot control, forgot her innocence. He wanted her, wanted to take her right there. He carried her into the bedroom, laying her gently on the bed, hovering above her. His lips trailed down her neck, and her soft whimpers made him ache with desire.
But then he stopped. His breathing was ragged, his chest heaving as he pulled back. "You're still a virgin," he murmured, brushing his thumb across her cheek. "I won't take you like this. Not until you're ready. Not until it's the right time."
Kasmine blinked up at him, her cheeks flushed, lips swollen from his kisses. She didn't argue—she only nodded shyly.
He pressed a final kiss to her forehead before pulling away. "Come," he said softly, helping her up. "Let's take care of ourselves."
They bathed separately, the tension still lingering thick in the air. When he returned to his study, she brought him a warm glass of milk, just the way she remembered he liked it. Then, standing behind his chair, she gently began massaging his head with her delicate fingers.
Bryce closed his eyes, surprised at how soothing it felt. She guided him to the bedroom, and there she continued, giving him a slow, careful full-body massage. His muscles relaxed under her touch, his exhaustion melting away with each movement of her hands.
For the first time in years, Bryce Stone fell asleep without stress, without nightmares, without tossing and turning. With her soft scent lingering beside him, he drifted into the deepest sleep he could remember.
And Kasmine, lying quietly next to him, realized she was slowly breaking down the walls of the man everyone else thought untouchable.
The next morning, Kasmine was the first to stir. She slipped quietly out of bed, knelt down, and whispered her morning prayers before heading into the bathroom for a quick bath. By the time she stepped out, the sun was spilling golden light through the curtains. She chose a long, curvy red gown that hugged her figure perfectly, then packed her hair into a neat donut bun at the top of her head.
Moving gracefully, she went into the kitchen and began preparing breakfast. The aroma of scrambled eggs and freshly brewed coffee soon filled the mansion, blending with the scent of roasted fish she had carefully seasoned and grilled. Every corner of the house gleamed—she had taken her time to tidy up the night before.
When Bryce finally woke, he found his clothes already arranged for work, perfectly ironed and set out by the wardrobe. It was unlike anything he had experienced in years; his life had been filled with luxury, but not the warmth of a woman caring for him this way.
He walked downstairs and caught sight of her in the kitchen, moving lightly as she plated the food. For a moment, he simply watched, his sharp eyes trailing over the curve of her figure. The red gown clung to her in all the right places—her round, perfect hips swayed as she moved, her waist small, her breasts full, her pale skin glowing under the morning light. She looked effortlessly breathtaking.
"Kasmine," he called, his deep voice breaking the silence.
She turned, smiling shyly. "Good morning. Breakfast is ready."
Instead of sitting down right away, he asked her casually, "What's your number?"
She hesitated, eyes lowering. "I… don't have a phone."
Bryce blinked in surprise. A young woman her age, living without a phone? Without hesitation, he pulled out his car keys. "Come. We're going to fix that."
Within the hour, he was at the mall with her, his tall frame drawing attention while her striking beauty left everyone staring. He bought her a brand-new phone and, not stopping there, also got her a sleek laptop.
Throughout the trip, he couldn't take his eyes off her. The way her gown hugged her curves made his chest tighten with a possessive heat he had never known before. Her round, perfect ass, her delicate waist, her soft, glowing skin—it was almost too much for him to ignore.
As he handed her the bags, he thought silently to himself. I want to keep her like this forever. With me, beside me. Always.
It was a new and frightening realization for a man like Bryce Stone, who had never allowed himself to dream of forever with anyone.