The days that followed blurred into a haze of sneaky glances and unspoken expressions. Maria assured herself she was just daydreaming,that Richard's glances at her were not filled with admiration and the pauses he took when around her weren't filled with unspoken emotions. And still, each time she entered the garden and Richard was there, the atmosphere between the two ignited and seemed to grow thicker.
It was becoming unbearable for Maria. This unspoken expression means that something had been altered. She couldn't figure out why his looks became more inquisitive and his eyes rested on her. Even when he spoke to her, his voice took a gentle note.
Maria didn't know, only sensed the desire.
One evening, Maria was restless,she went down to the pavilion. The building site was silent; the men had been gone for hours, but Richard was still there. He crouched over a beam, aligning it with careful hands, his shirt left on the grass. The waning sun illuminated his face with gold, each motion tense with contained power.
She told herself that she could not go over. That she had to return to her empty dining room and to her husband's always absent presence. But her feet betrayed her.
Still working?" she whispered, her voice more breath than words.
He stood up, wiping the sweat off his face. "almost over, Maria." He paused and whispered, "you shouldn't be outside by yourself."
She raised her chin to hide the shudder his words invoked. "This is my home. I can go anywhere that I wish."
They made eye contact and with that strained silence, the floor seemed to shift for Maria. She should exit the premises. But she stepped farther and with each breath, the distance between them closed.
Richards' jaw closed. He had repeated her words from the diary a thousand times over in his head, each repetition scorching him with guilt and temptation. She had penned of him—desiring him. And now, Maria was standing close to him. So close that he could smell the heavenly rose fragrance that lingered on her.
"Maria," he said humbly,
Her heart pounded. "Yes?"
His hand was gripped at his side, fighting the urge to move to her. "You should go inside."
Her face pulled into some combination of defiance and panic. "And then what?"
The question suspended between them like a match over dry kindling.Richard's breath was thicker, his control fraying strand by strand. Gradually, against his will, he raised his hand. His fingertips touched her wrist—like a soft breath.
The touch ignited her.
Maria took a sharp breath, her face aflame where his hand touched. But she didn't pull away. Instead, she leaned into him, her face fixed on his. "Richard.," she whispered, the voice shaking with all of the hunger that she'd contained.
His control frayed. Their faces drew nearer and closer, the space between them charged and setting on fire. He could feel her breath against his lips, and could almost taste the moment that would ruin them both and put them in trouble.
And then—
"Maria...."
The voice shattered the spell.
Maria turned quickly, her robe whipping about her. Victor stood by the entrance of the pavilion. His shadow huge and black in the fading sunlight. He had come earlier than they expected, his cellphone in his hands and eyes scamming and taking stock of the situation.
He released his hand instantly, his stance tense with repressed agitation. The face of Maria strained to smile, as her words went dry.
"Victor," she said, her voice exactly even. "I was just. taking a look to see how the pavilion's coming."
Victor's eyes had sharply moved from Maria to Richard.
Victor didn't speak any words but his silence was thicker than words.
Maria's heart thundered, the aftertaste of nearly happening still sharp as fire on her mouth. The sense of Richards' control hummed through the air, and the moment they had nearly exchanged seemed to not die.
Victor moved closer, a thin smile, a harsh voice. "Dinner's ready. Come in."
Maria nodded hastily and hurried past him to the house. She didn't dare look back down the track.
Yet she understood—with a dreadful certainty—that the boundary between fantasy and reality had been crossed. Sooner or later, one could not turn back.