Chapter 3 – Close Quarters

The penthouse was too quiet.

Tahimik, pero hindi yung tipong nakaka-relax. Tahimik na parang may kakaiba. The kind that hums under your skin and makes you too aware of your own heartbeat.

I moved through the living room, checking every corner, every blind spot. Habit na. Ever since i joined the military, hindi na ako marunong tumigil. My eyes flicked to the glass walls that framed the view of Makati—city lights glowing like scattered stars.

The air was cold. Pero hindi ganon kabigat sa dibdib kumpara sa presensiya niya.

Nahagip ng mata ko si Damian. Nakatayo siya sa may bar counter, one hand holding a glass of whiskey, the other shoved into his pocket like he owned every damn thing in sight. Well, technically, he did. Lahat ng nasa kwarto—mula sa mamahaling couch hanggang sa crystal decanter—probably cost more than my entire life savings.

And yet, here I was.

Assigned to protect him.

Here. With me.

I cleared my throat. “The perimeter’s clear. I set up additional security cameras sa east side at may team sa baba.”

He didn’t even look at me. “Aren’t you overdoing it, Alex?” His tone was cool, lazy, but there was that familiar arrogance laced beneath every syllable. “You think someone’s gonna parachute through my balcony?”

“Hindi ako nag-iisip, Mr. Cross,” I said flatly. “I anticipate.”

“After what happened earlier, sa tingin mo walang makakaisip na pasukin 'tong condo mo?” I said, sarcastic.

That made him glance at me, eyes sharp and dark.

There it was again—that pull I tried to bury years ago.

He hissed, “Cut it off.” “What?” Naguguluhang tanong ko.

“Stop calling me by my last name. Call me Damian, you used to call me that anyway.” He said. I turned away, pretending to check the locks.

“Strict rules starting tonight,” I continued, forcing my tone to stay clipped, professional. “No visitors unless cleared by me. You move, I move. You sleep, I stay on watch. Anything suspicious—report agad.”

He raised an eyebrow. “So, what, you control me now?”

I faced him. “No. Ginagawa ko lang ang trabaho ko. To keep you alive.”

That made him smirk, the corner of his mouth tilting up in that maddeningly familiar way. “You always liked giving orders, didn’t you?”

I stiffened. “That was a long time ago.”

“Doesn’t feel like it,” he said quietly. “Parang kahapon lang.”

Silence fell between us, thick and humming. I hated how his voice could still sound like a memory I couldn’t scrub away.

I crossed my arms, at medyo lumayo sakaniya. “This is work, Damian. You’re my assignment. Nothing more. Can you be more professional?”

He finally moved, setting his glass down with a soft clink. “You can pretend all you want, Alex. But I see it.”

“See what?”

“The way your hands shake when I’m too close.”

My pulse jumped. “You’re imagining things.”

He started walking toward me—slow, deliberate steps that echoed through the penthouse floor. Every instinct screamed for me to step back, but I didn’t. Hindi niya pwedeng makita na naaapektuhan parin ako ng bawat kilos at galaw niya. Hindi ngayon at mas lalong hindu kailan man.

“Stay where you are,” I warned.

He didn’t listen.

“Damian,” I hissed. “Don’t.”

“Why not?” He was already close enough that I could smell the faint mix of whiskey and his cologne—warm, dark, and infuriatingly familiar. “You used to say my name differently, Alex. Whispered. Begged.”

“Stop,” I snapped, shoving him lightly in the chest. But he caught my wrist, his grip firm, not rough. Just enough to make me feel the heat of his skin against mine.

“I said, stop,” I repeated, but my voice came out softer than I meant it to.

His gaze dropped to my mouth. “You’re shaking.”

“I’m angry. You're taking it too personal.”

“Sure you are.”

He leaned closer, breath brushing my cheek. “Tell me you don’t feel it.”

I swallowed hard. “You’re my client. That’s all. Bitawan mo ako.”

“Then why,” he murmured, “do you look like you’re about to kiss me?”

The air between us cracked like static. I tried to pull away, but he didn’t move. His hand was still around my wrist, his eyes holding mine captive.

I hated how easily he could read me.

I hated how every inch of me remembered.

“Let me go,” I said, trying to sound steady.

He didn’t.

Instead, his thumb brushed against my pulse, slow, deliberate, tracing the beat of my heart. “Still fast,” he murmured. “Still mine.”

“Damian—”

But then he kissed me.

And for a second, I forgot how to breathe. Naghalo-halo ang pakiramdam sa dibdib ko, hindi ko maintindihan. Naguguluhan ako.

It wasn’t the same as before—no fire or recklessness. It was slower, heavier, like he wanted to taste every second he lost. My body froze, mind screaming that this was wrong, but my heart… traydor, traydor na puso… it remembered the rhythm. The warmth. The ache.

I pushed at his chest once, twice, but his lips only deepened the kiss. My resistance crumbled like dust. Then I felt it—the ghost of the same hunger that destroyed us before.

My hands betrayed me, clutching at his shirt like I was drowning. His other hand slid to the small of my back, guiding me closer until there was no space left between us.

The sound of our breaths tangled in the quiet room.

Pinilit kong ilayo ang sarili ko kahit habol ang hininga. “This—this can’t happen.”

He was still too close, forehead resting against mine. “Why not?”

“Dahil hindi na ako ang babaeng minsan mo nang nakuha.”

“Then show me who you are now.”

“Damian—”

Before I could finish, his hand cupped the side of my neck, thumb brushing my jawline. The touch was gentle this time, reverent almost, like he was tracing something fragile.

“You built walls,” he whispered. “But I still see you behind them.”

I wanted to shove him away, to remind him that I had moved on. But the truth was, I hadn’t. Not completely. Pagkatapos ng nangyari, hindi na dapat ako nagpapadala sa bawat haplos at halik niya. Maling mali.

And that realization burned more than his touch.

I turned my face away. “This doesn’t mean anything. I’m just doing my job.”

He smiled faintly. “You said that last time too.”

My pulse jumped again, and I hated that he noticed.

“Go get some rest,” I muttered, stepping back. “You’ve got a long day tomorrow. Magbabantay ako.”

But instead of listening, he caught my wrist again—gentler now, almost like a question.

“Do you ever think about it?” he asked softly.

“What?”

“Us. What we were.”

I met his eyes, and for a split second, I saw the same boy from years ago—the one who kissed me like I was oxygen. The one who left without goodbye.

I forced a small laugh. “No. I don’t.”

“Liar.”

The word lingered between us, heavy with everything unsaid.

I tore my hand away and turned toward the window, pretending to check the blinds again just to hide the way my face burned. Outside, the city lights shimmered like distant fireflies.

Behind me, I heard him move—slow footsteps, the soft rustle of fabric.

When I glanced back, he was leaning against the wall, watching me with that same unreadable expression. The air thickened again, heavy with silence and memories neither of us dared to name.

“Go to sleep, Damian,” I said quietly.

“I won’t,” he replied. “Not while you’re here.”

I sighed, exasperated. “Hindi ka parin nagbabago.”

“And you,” he said, voice low, “still pretend you don’t want to.”

That was the last straw. I turned to him, angry—at him, at myself, at everything. “You don’t get to talk about what I want.”

“Then tell me.”

“I want peace!” My voice cracked. “And you—you’re chaos.”

He smiled, slow and dark. “You used to like chaos.”

“I outgrew it.”

“Did you?”

The way he said it made my heart skip again. Damn him.

I turned away before I could answer. For a long moment, neither of us spoke. Only the hum of the city below filled the silence.

Finally, I said, “Lights off. I’ll take the couch.”

Hindi na siya muling nagsalita. Just watched me as I crossed the room, every step feeling heavier than the last. When I sat down, I could still feel his gaze on me, sharp and lingering.

“Goodnight, Mr. Cross,” I muttered.

He didn’t respond right away. Then, just as I started to close my eyes, his voice came—low, dangerous, too close.

“Then why,” he murmured, his tone a dark whisper in the dim light,

“do you still taste like mine?”