For the first time, Grace realized that a tough and muscular man like John could possess a voice so alluring it made her legs feel weak.
Yet, while indulging in momentary pleasures was tempting, Grace prioritized her future. Before she could be charmed, she masked her feelings and said, "Mr. Amster, please behave yourself. I have no interest in being someone's stepmother."
Her words shattered the ambiguous atmosphere.
John's expression turned serious, his sharp gaze piercing through her, creating an invisible sense of oppression.
"So you think I'll marry you?"
Embarrassment washed over Grace, but she maintained her composure. "Mr. Amster, you've misunderstood. I made it clear from the beginning that our relationship is strictly physical. Whether you want to marry me or not doesn't matter. I've never considered it—now or ever."
She quickly changed back into her original clothes, her demeanor cold.
"It's over now, Mr. Amster."
With that, Grace left without looking back.
Once outside the dressing room, she pulled out her phone, intending to block him on WhatsApp. But as she thought of Jimmy, her student, she hesitated.
Instead, she changed his contact name from "188,20" to "Jimmy's father." From that moment on, she would draw a clear line between herself and John, vowing to avoid any further entanglements.
However, reality hit harder than she expected when it came time for family visits at school.
Jimmy's situation was unique, and due to scheduling, his family visit was arranged last. Grace had no idea that John was Jimmy's father.
Taking a deep breath, she reassured herself that he was busy, and even if he were home, it didn't mean he would be present for the visit.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, Grace arrived at the Amster residence.
The gray-haired butler greeted her warmly.
Walking through the courtyard, she noticed the villa was magnificent, reminiscent of a fairy tale castle. It was hard to believe that the man who usually dressed simply lived in such luxury.
Grace retrieved her shoe covers, but the butler handed her a pair of brand-new slippers instead.
"Miss Quinn, wear these," he said kindly.
"Thank you," she replied, slipping off her heels and into the slippers.
As she entered the bright living room, she noticed it was empty beneath the grand crystal chandelier.
"Where's Jimmy?" she asked.
"He's practicing boxing. Miss Quinn, please follow me."
The butler led her to the elevator, which descended to the basement.
When the doors opened, Grace was met with the sight of a boxing ring.
In the ring stood a large man and a small boy. Jimmy, clad in boxing gloves, was drenched in sweat, while John was bare-chested, his body glistening in the dim light.
John's demeanor was serious, radiating an intensity that made her heart race. Sweat trickled down his chiseled jaw, and she felt a strange mix of admiration and concern.
"Tick-tock."
Grace watched as a bead of sweat rolled down John's muscular chest, seeping into a scar that marked his skin.
"Stand up and continue. Knock me down," he instructed Jimmy, whose exhaustion was evident.
With a determined effort, Jimmy tried to rise but faltered, kneeling back down and gasping for breath.
John's response was immediate; he lifted Jimmy with one hand, showcasing the strength in his muscular arms.
Grace felt a surge of protectiveness. She stepped forward, placing herself between John and Jimmy.
"Stop it, Mr. Amster."
Her slender hand contrasted sharply against John's powerful frame, a visual representation of their opposing forces.
"Get out of the way." His icy gaze sent a chill through her.
Grace recalled the bruises she had seen on Jimmy's body and suddenly understood the root of his pain.
"Mr. Amster, Jimmy is only five years old. Isn't this a bit too harsh?" she implored.
John's eyes narrowed as they met hers. "In what position is Miss Quinn advising me?"
"Mr. Amster, I'm Jimmy's teacher. For his well-being, I must remind you that pushing him too hard won't benefit him."
The butler watched, surprised by Grace's boldness in confronting John.
As tensions rose, he interjected, "Miss Quinn is right. The young master is tired. I suggest we give him a break."
Grace watched as Jimmy, trembling, left the room. Her heart ached for him.
"He's just a child. How can he handle such rigorous training?" she pressed.
John took a step closer, his powerful presence forcing her back against the ropes of the boxing ring.
"Do you feel sorry for him?" he asked, his voice low.
Grace's heart raced as he leaned in, his body intimidatingly close. She could see the sheen of sweat on his face, and he grasped her chin gently, his fingers warm and electrifying.
"If you feel sorry for him," he continued, "would you consider being his stepmother?"
Grace's eyes widened in shock. In a reflexive motion, she raised her hand to slap him, but he caught her wrist easily, pinning it behind her back.
"Let me go! John Amster!" she protested, but her strength was no match for his.
"Stop pretending, Miss Quinn..." His tone lingered, laced with suggestion.
As his hand wandered around her waist, Grace leaned back, instinctively wrapping her arms around his neck to steady herself.
"Miss Quinn, do you want me now?" he whispered, his breath warm against her skin.