Yes, with coffees

The morning sun broke through the blinds, casting warm golden stripes across the bedroom. Leo’s alarm went off at seven, and after a gentle round of sleepy snuggles, he quietly got dressed for work. He lingered by the bed, kissing Maya’s forehead and reminding her—with a endearing, nerdy earnestness—not to overexert herself or make any binding commitments without him. Maya laughed softly, pulling the duvet up to her chin, watching her sweet, bookish boyfriend adjust his glasses and head out the door into his corporate IT world.

Once she was up and dressed in a flattering pastel top and fitted jeans, Maya couldn't help but peek at the marketing folder sitting on the living room table. A flutter of nervous excitement danced in her belly. Before she could sink too far into her thoughts, three slow, heavy knocks sounded at the front door. Opening it, she found Mike standing in the hallway, the BO hit her first before the smell of the two coffees he was holding from the local cafe down the street. He was wearing his usual relaxed attire, his heavy 21-stone frame filling the corridor, but his smile was warm and disarming.

"Morning, Maya," Mike said in his gravelly, low voice, offering her one of the cups. "Thought you might need a caffeine boost before tackling the rest of the apartment." Maya’s face lit up with a brilliant, naive smile as she took the cup, deeply touched by his apparent thoughtfulness. She invited him in, eager to share her good news. She told him all about her conversation with Leo—how supportive he was, how he trusted her, and how they were both onboard with exploring the opportunity at Thursday's meeting, provided everything remained completely professional.

Mike listened intently, taking a slow sip of his coffee while his sharp, calculating eyes took in every detail of her joyful expression as well as her 34DD’s. He nodded approvingly, playing the role of the proud mentor to perfection. "That's fantastic news, Maya," he said, stepping a little closer to rest a heavy, warm hand on her shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Leo sounds like a good kid. I told you, I just want what's best for you. Now that we're on the same page, we can focus on making sure you shine when we step into that agency office."

They spent the next hour chatting as they continued unpacking, with Mike keeping up a steady stream of subtle, flattering comments about her hair, her posture and slim figure. Every lingering look and gentle brush of his hand was framed so naturally as supportive camaraderie that Maya’s trusting mind absorbed it without a single drop of suspicion. As she worked unpacking with him, feeling utterly admired and validated in ways she was still getting used to, Maya felt a thrilling sense of anticipation for the Thursday meeting, completely confident that her life was unfolding into a wonderful, magical fairy tale.

Mike took a slow sip from his coffee, turning his broad frame toward Maya as an disarmingly gentle look crossed his face. "You know, Maya, I’ve been thinking," Mike began, his voice dropping into a warm, fatherly register. "If we’re going to be working closely together on this campaign, I don't want Leo feeling like a third wheel or sitting at home worrying. He deserves to know exactly who's looking out for you when he's at work."

Maya looked at him, her green eyes lighting up with interest. "What do you mean?"

"I think Leo and I should meet," Mike said smoothly, giving her a reassuring, open smile. "Properly. I want him to feel completely comfortable and confident with me. I want him to see that I’ve genuinely got your best interests at heart, that he can trust me implicitly, and not some thirty something after his girlfriend . Once he knows I'm just here to protect you and help you get this incredible break, it'll put his mind totally at ease."

Maya’s heart swelled at the suggestion. It felt so remarkably thoughtful, so considerate of Leo’s feelings. The lingering hesitation she had harbored about navigating this strange new world vanished completely under Mike's disarming warmth.

"That is so sweet of you, Mike!" Maya exclaimed, beaming at him with pure, unreserved admiration. "Leo would really appreciate that. He’s always looking out for me, so knowing you want to put him at ease means everything."

"Tell you what," Mike continued, striking while the iron was hot. "Why don't I invite the two of you round to my place for dinner tonight? Nothing fancy—just a good home-cooked meal, a few drinks, and a chance for the three of us to chat, relax, and get to know each other before the meeting."

"Oh, we'd love that!" Maya squealed happily, clapping her hands together in delight. "I'll text Leo right now to let him know. You are honestly the best neighbor we could have ever asked live near, Mike!"

Mike smiled, a subtle, satisfied glimmer passing through his heavy eyes as he watched her eagerly pull out her phone. "Just looking out for my favorite neighbors," he murmured, letting her text her boyfriend, knowing his calculated invitation had just placed him exactly where he wanted to be.

Mike finished unpacking a box "Alright, I’ve finished emptying this box Maya, is it alright if i leave you to it, I should get home and prepare for the meal tonight,. Shall we say around seven o'clock?"

"Seven sounds perfect! Thank you again, Mike, really," Maya beamed, standing up to walk him to the door. She waved goodbye, her face flushed with excitement as she watched him shuffle down the carpeted hallway toward his apartment.

The moment his front door clicked shut behind him, Mike’s friendly, fatherly expression melted away into a look of sharp, calculated urgency. He looked down at his stained, faded sweatpants and smelled the faint, stale tang of BO rising from him and his t-shirt. He let out a long, heavy breath, rubbing his balding head.

He knew the game he was playing. Maya was naive, impressionable, and utterly blinded by flattery—she was easy to handle. But Leo? Leo was a young, analytical guy who wore glasses and spent his days dealing with logic and code. If Leo walked into a filthy, foul-smelling apartment and met a greasy, unkempt guy in stained clothes, his alarm bells would go off instantly. Leo would see him for exactly what he was: a creep trying to scheme his way into his young, gorgeous girlfriend's panties.

Not going to happen, Mike thought, a smirk playing on his lips as he kicked off his shoes. If he was going to pull this off, he needed to present himself as the harmless, reliable, older neighborly figure—a warm, bachelor father-type who just wanted to help the young couple out.

For the next four hours, Mike worked up a real sweat for the first time in years. He dragged out an old vacuum cleaner, running it over every inch of the dusty carpets. He gathered up piles of yellowed takeout boxes, empty beer cans, and month-old newspapers, shoving them into black heavy-duty trash bags and hauling them out to the chute. He sprayed down the grease-stained kitchen counters, scrubbed the bathroom sink, and threw open all the windows, letting fresh air flush out the stale, lingering scent of tobacco and sweat before spraying a neutral linen-scented air freshener across the living room.

Once the apartment was clean, he headed to the upscale market down the street. Instead of his usual frozen meals and cheap beer, he picked up fresh steaks, potatoes, a crisp salad, and a decent bottle of red wine—enough to look like a thoughtful, generous host who was treating his new neighbors to a nice welcome dinner.

Back home, he spent twenty minutes in a hot shower, scrubbing away the grime and shaving the scruff from his jaw. He tossed his stained sweats into the hamper and put on a clean, dark navy polo shirt and neat, dark trousers.

Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, combing what little hair he had left, Mike inspected his reflection. The man looking back at him didn't look like a predator or a sleaze; he looked like a respectable, grounded, slightly lonely middle-aged man living a quiet life. Satisfied, he headed into the kitchen, seasoned the steaks, and set the table for three, ready to put on the performance of a lifetime.