Kabanata 2: Kidnapped

Tahimik lang si Frances habang nakaupo sa passenger seat ng sleek, pitch-black SUV. The rain was pounding hard against the tinted windows, pero sa loob, the air-conditioning was freezing cold, perfectly matching the mood ng driver.

Nasa tabi niya si Rafael, gripping the leather steering wheel with effortless control, his jaw set in stone.

Sa backseat naman nakaupo ang dalawa nitong tauhan na sina Gino at Marco. Si Marco, halos maiyak habang idinidiin ang ice pack sa basag niyang ilong—a painful, bloody reminder kung anong klaseng tao ang nagpapatakbo sa sindikato.

Ilang minutes ding nagtiis si Frances sa awkward silence, draining the very last drop of melted boba sa baso niya through her straw.

“Bossing,” panimula niya, breaking the tension without an ounce of shame.

Rafael’s eyes didn’t leave the road.

“Saan mo ba talaga ako dadalhin? Kasi kung sa isa na namang abandoned warehouse, honestly, medyo pass ako sa industrial concrete aesthetic.” Pinagpag niya ang neon pink hoodie niya. “At least choose somewhere with warm flattering lighting para hindi naman mukhang mugshot ang hostage photos ko, ’di ba?”

Sa backseat, halos mabilaukan si Gino sa sarili niyang laway. Sina Marco at Gino, nagkatinginan na parang nakakita ng multo.

Lahat ng tauhan ni Rafael sa buong cartel, nanginginig ang tuhod kapag humihinga ito sa parehong kwarto. Yet here she was, nakaupo sa passenger seat na parang nagbu-book lang ng overpriced Grabcar.

Rafael remained completely deadpan, his eyes focused sa wet asphalt.

“You talk too much,” he said, his voice flat, dangerously cold. “In my world, loud people end up in the river.”

Frances rolled her eyes, scoffing softly. “Aba, Kuya Iceberg, sa economy ngayon, kapag tahimik ka, tatapakan ka lang! At saka, kasalanan ko bang na-kidnap ako habang fasting? Try mo kayang maging hostage na bagsak ang blood sugar, tingnan natin kung hindi ka magreklamo!”

Rafael shifted gears smoothly, completely unfazed by her outburst.

“We’re going to my penthouse,” he answered, not a shred of warmth in his tone. “And there will be food.”

Agad na nag-spark ang mata ni Frances. “Wait, really? Totoo?”

Rafael didn’t reply. He just drove on, dismissing her presence like she was background static.

Twenty minutes later, the SUV pulled into the private underground parking of an ultra-luxury high-rise tower sa BGC. Dinala sila diretso sa private elevator with biometrics na diretsong nagbubukas inside Rafael’s two-story penthouse.

Pagbukas ng lift, Frances stared in pure shock.

The space was enormous. Soaring high ceilings, minimalist floor-to-ceiling glass panels overlooking the sparkling city skyline, at halos monochrome na palette ng black, charcoal grey, at cold marble. It looked less like a home and more like a high-tech fortress.

Dahan-dahan siyang naglakad papasok, pastel pink Crocs squeaking lightly on the polished Italian tiles.

“Grabe,” she muttered, looking up at the chandelier. “Ang yaman naman pala ni Bossing.” Lumapit siya sa leather couch bago muling pumihit paharap sa lalaki. “Ito ba ang ROI ng pure crime at direct tax evasion?”

Napaubo si Gino, frantically turning his head away para pigilan ang pagtawa.

Rafael didn’t even flinch. He removed his tailored jacket with measured, fluid movements and tossed it onto the sofa, completely unbothered.

“Gino.”

“Yes, Boss?”

“Order a full Italian dinner. And get whatever it is she eats.”

Tumango agad si Gino. “Copy, Boss.”

Pero bago pa ito makatalikod, Frances stepped up, arms wide open. “Kuya! Unlimited samgyupsal please! Extra spicy pork belly, double side dishes, tapos extra melted cheese dip. Yung stretchy, ha!”

Napatitig si Gino sa kanya, visibly paralyzed, bago dahan-dahang tumingin kay Rafael to check kung buhay pa ba ang babae after that request.

Rafael simply gave a curt nod, dismissive and curt.

Agad na nag-exit si Gino para asikasuhin ang order.

Nang maiwan silang dalawa sa cavernous living room, Rafael walked straight to the integrated bar counter. He poured a generous measure of single malt scotch over a crystal glass, taking a slow sip without breaking his cold composure.

Frances awkwardly stood in the middle of the room, looking at her neon pink sleeves against the austere dark furniture.

Finally, Rafael set his glass down on the marble counter with a solid thud. He locked his pitch-black eyes on her.

“Now, let’s establish our parameters, Francesca.”

Frances crossed her arms defensively. “Anong parameters? You kidnapped me, plain and simple. Open and shut case.”

Rafael walked toward her, each step quiet, heavy, and deliberate. The chilling aura around him returned in full force, erasing any brief lightness.

“It is not that simple,” he said, stopping right in front of her. “You saw Marco. You saw the guns. The Moretti syndicate already has informants tracing that warehouse.”

Frances frowned. “Okay, and then?”

“If they discover a civilian walked out of my perimeter alive, they won't assume you were just hungry,” Rafael stated coldly. “They’ll assume you’re my witness. Or worse, my leverage.”

Frances gasped, stepping back with an incredulous look. “Leverage?! Weakness?! Excuse me, Kuya, forty-five minutes pa lang tayong magkakilala! Kakapanood mo ’yan ng action movies! Paano naman ako naging emotional liability mo bigla? Ni hindi mo nga alam birthday ko!”

“They don’t care about reality. They only care about targets,” malamig na putol ni Rafael.

“Eh kasalanan ko ba kasing ampangit ng GPS coordinates sa Pasig? Gusto ko lang naman talagang mag-ihaw ng baboy!”

Hindi na nag-aksaya ng laway si Rafael.

Instead, he reached inside his back pocket, pulling out a heavy, gleaming pair of chrome steel handcuffs.

Frances froze, her jaw dropping. “Wait! Wait, wait, timeout! Bossing, hold on!”

She backed away a couple of steps, holding both hands up defensively. “Anong agenda ’yan?! Is this mafia protocol or some questionable roleplay? Bakit may restraints?!”

Rafael didn’t entertain the panic. In one smooth, lightning-fast motion, he caught her right wrist.

“Rafael, teka lang—”

Before she could yank her hand away, the cold metal locked around her wrist. Then, with total precision, he clamped the other cuff around his own left wrist.

Frances stared in disbelief sa shining chain connecting them. Dahan-dahan niyang inangat ang kamay niya, causing Rafael’s arm to rise with it.

“Rafael!” Frances shrieked, voice cracking in pure annoyance. “Are you out of your mind?! Hindi ba uso ang civilized dialogue sa inyo?! Handcuffs talaga agad?!”

Instead of answering, Rafael stepped directly into her personal space. His left hand, anchored to hers, rested between them, while his free right arm swept firmly around her waist.

Frances let out a tiny gasp as he pulled her flush against his hard, broad frame. The sudden proximity hit her like a truck—the intense scent of sandalwood, clean linen, and dangerous masculinity completely flooding her senses.

Bumilis nang husto ang tibok ng puso niya. Nakatitig siya sa adam’s apple nito bago napilitang itingala ang ulo niya dahil sa tangkad ng lalaki.

Yumuko si Rafael nang bahagya, his lips brushing dangerously close to the curve of her ear. His breath was warm, but his tone was pure absolute authority.

“This,” he whispered coldly, “is to make sure your lack of survival instinct doesn't get you killed before sunrise.”

Napalunok si Frances, feeling the heat of his palm against her lower back.

“Until I eliminate the threat, Francesca, your life is linked to mine. You stay where I can see you.”

Silence filled the space between them. Frances stared at his sharp jawline, his completely unbothered expression, and the ridiculous reality that she was literally tethered to an armed cartel boss in a multi-million-peso penthouse.

She exhaled slowly, trying to regain whatever scrap of humor she had left.

“Bossing...”

Rafael shifted his gaze down, meeting her eyes with a hard, unyielding stare. “What?”

Frances lifted their cuffed wrists between their chests, shaking the small metal chain with a deadpan expression. “Paano ako mag-iihaw at kakain ng samgyupsal kung nakatali ako sa braso mo? Left-handed ka ba? Kasi baka matalsikan ka ng mantika, bawas pogi points ’yan.”

The silence stretched.

For a second, Rafael just stared at her, as if calculating whether she was genuinely fearless or just completely unhinged.

Then, the razor-sharp tension in his shoulders shifted slightly. The corner of his mouth curved upward—not his cold smirk from earlier, but a dark, dangerously amused trace of a real smile.

“Then I guess,” Rafael murmured, his right hand tightening slightly on her waist, pulling her a fraction closer, “I’ll just have to feed you myself.”

Frances’s eyes went wide, her brain practically short-circuiting at the visual.

One thing was crystal clear: between the cartel hitmen hunting them down and the cold-blooded billionaire currently holding her against his chest, she was definitely not getting out of this night unscathed.