The final course had long been cleared, and the soft hum of the string quartet had faded into a gentle background ambiance. The candlelight flickered between them, casting golden shadows across Jeff's maroon sleeves and Raine's delicate smile. The mood was mellow now, sunk into the warm haze that comes with a perfect dinner and a few glasses of expertly paired wine.
Raine leaned back in her chair, swirling the last of her rosé. Her cheeks were slightly flushed, her shoulders relaxed in a way Jeff hadn't seen before—not the usual Raine who was all practicality and sharp critiques. This was Raine with her guard just barely lowered, laughing softer, letting the moment wrap around her like a favorite blanket.
"You know…" she said slowly, letting her words stretch, "I used to think these kinds of places were… unreachable."
Jeff tilted his head. "What changed?"
She gave him a look—half fond, half exasperated. "A gardener named Jeff decided to trick me."
He laughed, deep and genuine. "It was a small white lie. For the aesthetic."
Raine rolled her eyes but couldn't keep her smile from widening. She glanced at her half-empty glass, then at the city skyline visible from the private balcony they'd stepped out onto moments earlier. The moon was a thin crescent in the sky, and the stars were hidden behind city lights, but the moment still felt… quiet. Intimate.
"I haven't had this much fun in… I don't know how long," she admitted. "I didn't realize how much I needed this."
Jeff's gaze softened. "I'm glad."
She hesitated, twirling her wine glass stem with her fingers.
"My parents are out of town for a few days," she said suddenly, her voice casual—but only on the surface. "They're visiting my aunt in another province."
Jeff nodded politely, sipping from his glass, not quite catching her meaning.
"So…" she continued, eyes flicking to his, "if you're not busy… would you maybe… want to come over? Just to hang out. I have tea. And snacks. And… a really comfortable couch."
His wine caught mid-swallow. He blinked. "You're inviting me to your place?"
"Unless you have a secret meeting with the gardener's union tonight," she teased.
He chuckled, but the way his eyes locked onto hers had changed. Softer. Deeper. His voice dropped low, almost hesitant.
"Are you sure?"
Raine gave him a look. "I wouldn't offer if I wasn't."
For a moment, silence stretched between them—not awkward, but thick with something unspoken. An invitation. A curiosity. A vulnerability neither of them wanted to name.
He set down his glass gently. "Alright," he said, voice warm. "I'd love to."
The ride to her apartment was quiet, save for the occasional joke or shared glance. Jeff had returned the borrowed secondhand car, and now they were in a regular cab, deliberately unremarkable, just like the man Raine thought she was getting to know.
Her building wasn't grand, but it was clean and cozy. Familiar. She unlocked the door and stepped aside with a small flourish.
"Welcome to my humble abode."
Jeff stepped inside, taking in the modest space: soft lighting, worn throw pillows, a half-finished puzzle on the coffee table, and a wall of notes on flavors and food combinations in neat cursive.
"This is very you," he said, and he meant it.
Raine kicked off her shoes and headed for the kitchen. "I wasn't kidding about tea. I've got chamomile, peppermint, and this weird strawberry one I keep forgetting I hate."
"Chamomile sounds perfect."
They settled on the couch, tea in hand, not too close but not far either. Raine tucked her knees under herself, and Jeff leaned back cautiously, trying not to seem too comfortable.
For a while, they just talked. About nothing and everything. About flavors, the weirdest dish Raine ever tried, and Jeff's obviously fake stories about working in landscaping for millionaire clients who swore their petunias had mood swings.
It wasn't the wine talking when Raine reached out, just briefly, brushing a stray eyelash off Jeff's cheek. It wasn't the quiet buzz of alcohol that made her say what she said next:
"You know… I've never brought anyone home before. Not like this."
Jeff looked at her, and his expression shifted—caught somewhere between guilt and affection. "You sure I'm worth the exception?"
Raine's voice dropped to a whisper. "I think you already know."
He smiled, eyes crinkling. "Maybe I needed to hear it."
For a while, they just sat there. No kisses. No touches beyond that gentle brush of fingertips. Just shared warmth, two people holding something fragile and new between them, not yet ready to break it with names or labels.
And when Raine eventually leaned her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes, Jeff didn't move.
He stayed there, still and silent, holding the weight of her trust like it was made of glass. Because in that moment, he wasn't Tristan Vaughn, CEO of a multi-million-dollar empire with blood on his hands and secrets in every corner.
He was just Jeff. The gardener. The quiet man who made her tea and listened when she needed to talk. The one who she chose to invite home.
And that… that meant more than he could say.
"You were amazing tonight," he said, his thumb tracing slow circles on her skin. "The way you talked about the food, like it was art. I could listen to you for hours."
Raine flushed, the compliment sinking deep. As a housemaid and cook, she rarely got praise beyond a nod from the estate's owners. "You weren't so bad yourself," she teased, nudging his knee. "For a gardener, you've got a way with words."
He chuckled, but his eyes darkened, a secret flickering behind them. He set his glass down, turning to face her fully. "Raine," he murmured, his hand sliding to her cheek, thumb brushing her lower lip. "Can I kiss you?"
Her heart stuttered, heat pooling low in her belly. She nodded, barely breathing, and his lips met hers—soft at first, a question, then deeper, a claim. The kiss was slow, deliberate, his tongue tracing hers with a patience that made her melt. Her hands found his chest, fingers curling into his shirt, pulling him closer. He tasted of bourbon and want, and she lost herself in it, the world narrowing to his mouth, his hands, his heat.
Jeff's fingers slid to her waist, tugging her onto his lap. She straddled him, her dress riding up, the friction of his slacks against her thighs sending sparks through her. His hands roamed her back, slow and reverent, unzipping her dress with a care that made her ache. The fabric pooled around her waist, leaving her in a black lace bra, and Jeff's breath hitched, his eyes drinking her in.
"God, you're beautiful," he whispered, his lips brushing her collarbone, then lower, kissing the swell of her breasts. Raine's head tipped back, a soft moan escaping as his tongue traced the edge of her bra, teasing but not rushing. Her hands threaded through his hair, urging him closer, her body alive with need.
Jeff was here, real, his hands sliding her dress off completely, leaving her in lace and desire. She pushed Nick away, focusing on Jeff's touch, the way his fingers found the clasp of her bra, freeing her to his gaze.
He lifted her effortlessly, carrying her to the bedroom, the bourbon glasses forgotten. The bed creaked as he laid her down, his shirt discarded to reveal lean muscle, a body honed not by gardening but by discipline Raine couldn't yet fathom. She pulled him down, their kisses growing hungrier, her nails grazing his back as he shed the rest of their clothes.
Jeff's hands were everywhere—caressing her thighs, teasing her core, his fingers slipping inside her with a slow, deliberate rhythm that made her gasp. "Jeff," she breathed, hips rocking against his hand, her body begging for more. He watched her, eyes intense, learning every shiver, every sound, as he brought her to the edge and held her there, teasing, prolonging.
"Please," she whispered, and he obliged, positioning himself between her thighs. He entered her slowly, inch by inch, filling her with a tenderness that bordered on worship. Raine's breath caught, her legs wrapping around him, pulling him deeper. Their rhythm was unhurried, each thrust a conversation, their bodies moving in sync. His lips found hers, then her neck, her breasts, kissing every inch he could reach as they rocked together.
The pleasure built, a slow burn that consumed her. Jeff's hands gripped her hips, guiding her, his breath ragged against her ear. "Raine," he groaned, her name a prayer, and she felt the tension coil tighter, her nails digging into his shoulders. When she came, it was like a wave breaking, her cry soft but raw, her body trembling around him. Jeff followed moments later, a low moan spilling from him as he buried himself deep, their bodies locked together in the afterglow.
They lay tangled in the sheets, sweat-slick and breathless, Jeff's arm draped across her waist. Raine's heart pounded, her mind a mix of bliss and unease. Jeff's touch had been everything—slow, passionate, real—but Nick's shadow lingered, a reminder of her restless desires. And Jeff, sweet Jeff, was still just the gardener in her mind, his secret identity a truth she'd yet to uncover.
As he kissed her forehead, murmuring something soft, Raine wondered what she'd started—and what two days alone might bring.