3

“Can I have a new manager? Preferably someone younger and female,” Maverick quipped to Noah after they discussed the stipulations of his contract renewal at RTA.

Regal Talents Agency is a well-known talent agency in the Philippines. Noah's uncle, Mark, built and managed the agency for twenty years. He launched the careers of many local celebrities, some of whom even became famous international models. Mark sold RTA to his nieces and nephews at a low price after meeting a European fashion designer named Deo, who is based in Milan. The two are now married and spend their time traveling the world. RTA is currently managed by Noah and his cousin Raffy. Raffy’s twin, Cade, is the agency’s official photographer.

“You don’t want Anton anymore?” Noah asked the model. “He’s been with you from the very start.”

“He’s getting older and crankier. I think he needs to retire.”

“He’s only fifty. You just don’t like him because he’s strict with you. You can't flirt with other women when you're with him.”

Maverick laughed. "Man, getting women is the least of my problems. They’re the ones always coming to me," he boasted.

Maverick Logan’s maternal grandfather was American. He was born in the Philippines, so he still speaks fluent Filipino. He was RTA’s most successful talent—one of the top supermodels in the world and an endorser of luxury designer brands in clothing, shoes, and perfumes.

“Anyway, how are you? Cade told me your brother’s getting married. When’s your turn?” Maverick changed the topic.

Noah replied flatly, “I don’t know. I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Still none?” Maverick said exaggeratedly, even though he had actually expected that answer.

"Why, do you have one?" he shot back. "And, just to remind you, you're three years older than me."

“At least I’ve got a reason. I’m too busy with my career to handle a serious relationship. You, what’s your excuse?”

Noah shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe there's just no one worth choosing.”

“You’re probably still searching for your dream girl, Maria Clara.”

He gave him a dirty look. Why did everybody have this stupid notion about him that he preferred reserved and old-fashioned women? He never really set any standards when it came to women. But he also wasn't the type of guy who jumped at the chance just because a beautiful woman approached him. He could count the number of women he'd dated on one hand. Actually, just one hand.

“I’m not particularly looking for a virgin woman, okay?”

“Oh, so you prefer the experienced ones? Well, that’s actually better. At least you won’t have to teach—”

“Mav, can we stop talking about s*x?”

Maverick snorted. “Sorry, I forgot you can’t relate.”

Noah held back from cursing in front of the food. When he was already this s*xually frustrated, and someone added nonsense on top of it, he felt like punching something.

But his friend still pushed it. “The problem with you is you're so aloof and stiff. You always play by the rules. Try to loosen up and have a good time. You don't need to have a girlfriend or a date to get laid. Hook up with a stranger, go to an orgy club. Life is short; you have to get dirty sometimes.”

“Nope. I’m not giving you a new manager. End of discussion.”

Ingrid and Pat have talked about Pat moving in with her boyfriend several times, and here it is; her cousin's concern for her still hasn't faded.

"Pat, I told you, I'm okay," Ingrid said while sitting in the passenger's seat of the car he was driving to work. "You want me to be totally independent, right? Here it is. I will be alone in the apartment, going to work by myself."

"If Maki's house weren't so far, you could still hitch a ride with me."

His father didn't become an obstacle back then for them to become close. Her father didn't like him, saying he was a bad influence on her. But Pat isn't really doing anything bad. He has no vices, he is also intelligent, and he was always an honor student before. He wasn't flamboyant or acting like a woman, either. But her father didn't want her to hang out with Pat just because he was gay. She was no longer surprised by her father's animosity towards him. Pat's own father seems to be ashamed of him because of his s*xual orientation.

She tapped Pat on the shoulder. "It's okay. If anything, I actually feel excited. It's the first time I'll be alone. How fun would that be?"

To be honest, she secretly enjoys the solitude when Pat is not at their house, when he is out with Raffy for a few days. But of course, she didn't want to tell her cousin that because it might offend him.

Pat laughed. “I’m happy for you, coz. You're no longer the Ingrid who cried when I picked you up at the bus terminal back then.

Ingrid covered her face. "Oh no, you reminded me again!"

She's really just a crybaby. It seems that's all she knows how to do when he's sad, scared, or hurt. She had been sad when she left home, but her determination to leave was strong enough to overcome that sadness. Even though she cried almost the entire trip to the city, she stood firm in her decision to leave the province.

Until they heard a strange sound coming from Pat’s car engine.

“Ah, sh*t!” he cursed when the car suddenly started slowing down on its own.

“Is it broken again?”

“I really need to replace this. I've been using it for five years, and I’ve already spent so much on repairs,” Pat said. He managed to pull over to the side of the road just before the engine completely died.

“You should stop buying used cars. Just take out a loan for a new one. You can afford it anyway.”

“Yeah, Maki and I already talked about that. Coz, go ahead and head in first. I still need to call a repair shop.”

Ingrid hurriedly got out of the car. She frowned after a few minutes of waiting there, but all the taxis passing by were full. So she ended up taking a jeep instead.

In her rush to sit down, her skirt had unknowingly ridden up when she placed her bag on her lap. She wouldn’t have noticed if it weren’t for the man beside her who subtly brushed his hand against the side of her thigh that was touching his.

Ingrid froze in fear. She didn’t know what to do. She was scared and panicking. She looked at the other passengers, but it seemed like none of them had seen anything. Or maybe… maybe the man didn’t mean to touch her?

Her question was answered when she felt the man's hand on her skin again. It lingered there. That’s when she finally dared to confront him. She managed to move and pull down her black, knee-length, gathered skirt.

“Hey! Why are you touching me?” she asked the man, who looked to be in his forties and had a backpack on his lap.

“T-touching you? What are you talking about?” he feigned ignorance.

“You touched my thigh!” she cried out, her voice nearly breaking.

The man didn’t answer, but she heard him mutter a curse under his breath before shifting away from her. None of the passengers reacted—maybe they weren’t aware of what he did, or maybe they simply didn’t care. But there was an elderly woman who discreetly sneered at her after eyeing her from head to toe.

The jeepney came to a stop just in time because of traffic. Ingrid took the opportunity to get off. Her heart pounding, she walked away until she managed to hail a taxi.

Ingrid was really out of luck today because the taxi she was riding got stuck in traffic several times. She didn’t wait for it to reach the front of the building where she worked. About fifty meters away, she had already gotten off.

Panting, she rushed to catch the elevator just as it was about to close. And yes, she now believed she was having a streak of bad luck because out of all the people she could ride the elevator with, it had to be her boss. And not just that. In her panic and hurry, she stumbled and lost her balance. She would have fallen if Noah hadn’t caught her.

"I-I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Sir!" Ingrid said, utterly embarrassed, as he helped her stand up straight.

My God! Of all the parts of her body he could’ve caught, did it really have to be her chest?

"Are you okay?" Noah asked, clearly concerned.

She nodded, then stood up properly. "Y-yes, Sir. Sorry about that. I was in a hurry because I'm already late. Sorry, too, for being late—"

"It's all right. You don't need to apologize, Ingrid."

"O-okay. Thank you, Sir."