Chapter 2

I said yes the next day.

I wish I could say I fought harder.

I wish I could say I found another way.

I didn’t.

By ten in the morning, tumawag na ang lawyer namin to confirm na “willing to suspend formal escalation” ang Del Fierro Holdings as long as pumayag ako sa terms. Pagsapit ng tanghali, dalawang beses nang umiyak si Mama, tuluyan nang nanahimik si Papa. At ako, I had signed a contract with trembling fingers.

One year.

Private maid.

Personal attendant.

The language of the contract was clean. Professional. Almost elegant, even.

Pero simple lang ang mensahe.

I was no longer mine.

“Anak…”

I looked up from the copy of the contract in my lap.

Nakatayo si Mama sa may front door, twisting her hands together. Sa likod niya, sobrang normal pa rin tingnan ang buong bahay namin in the most painful way. The cream walls. The framed family photos. Iyong lamp sa sulok na kailanman ayaw palitan ni Papa kahit ang pangit na nito since 2014.

Everything looked exactly the same. Which was funny, because nothing felt the same anymore.

“I can still talk to him,” Mama said softly. “Maybe… maybe there’s another arrangement.”

I almost smiled.

Almost.

“No, Ma,” I said. “There isn’t.”

Nakatayo si Papa sa may bintana, nakatanaw sa labas na parang biglang nandoon sa kalsada ang lahat ng sagot na hindi niya masabi nang diretsahan. Hindi niya ako halos matingnan sa mata simula kahapon. Maybe because he was ashamed. Maybe because he blamed himself.

“I won’t be gone forever,” I said, forcing lightness into my voice even though it sounded fake even to me. “It’s just one year.”

Walang ibang nagsalita.

Because we all knew “just one year” could ruin a person in more ways than one.

Bumusina nang isang beses ang itim na sasakyan sa labas.

My stomach dropped.

Of course he sent a car.

Of course he didn’t come himself.

Why would he?

Men like Vladimir Von Del Fierro didn’t pick people up. They summoned them.

Tumayo ako bago ko pa mapigilan ang sarili ko.

Agad lumapit si Mama at hinila ako sa isang mahigpit na yakap, so tight it almost cracked whatever control I had left. “Call me when you can.”

“I will.”

“You don’t have to be brave all the time.”

I let out a breath that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. “I literally do.”

That made her cry again.

Great.

Hinalikan ko si Mama sa pisngi, pinisil ang braso ni Papa nang hindi pa rin siya tuluyang lumilingon sa akin, at hinila ko ang maleta ko palabas ng bahay bago pa ako tuluyang manghina at maiyak.

The chauffeur opened the backseat for me without a word.

I got in.

The ride felt too quiet.

Too smooth.

Too expensive.

Buong biyahe akong nakatitig sa tinted window, pilit na iniiwasang isipin ang kontratang nakatiklop sa loob ng bag ko na parang death sentence.

We drove farther away from the city center than I expected. Lagpas sa mga steel and glass buildings. Lagpas sa mga tahimik na subdivision. Lagpas sa mga gate na sapat ang taas para malaman mong mayaman at makapangyarihan ang mga nakatira

And then we arrived.

No.

Arrived wasn’t the word.

We were admitted.

Dahan-dahang bumukas ang mga gate ng Del Fierro estate.

The place was insane. Malaki na ang bahay namin pero mas malaki pa ang kanya. 

Paikot ang driveway sa gitna ng landscaped gardens na sobrang perpekto, parang hindi totoo. Ang mansion mismo ang nasa sentro ng lahat, all dark glass, stone, and impossible size.

It looked expensive.

Cold.

Untouchable.

Basically exactly like him.

The car stopped.

For one second, I just sat there.

Then the driver opened my door.

“Ms. Monteverde.”

Right.

Me.

The girl who was now apparently being delivered to a billionaire prison with a good view.

Pagkababa ko, inayos ko ang gusot sa harap ng blouse ko at pinilit kong mag poker face.

The giant doors opened before I could reach them.

Isang babaeng naka-fitted na charcoal dress ang sumalubong sa akin, with the kind of expression na magalang pero hindi exactly welcoming. Mukha siyang nasa mga fifty na, perfectly put together.

“Ms. Monteverde,” she said. “Welcome to the Del Fierro estate. I’m Mrs. Alvarez, the house manager.”

“Hi,” I said, adjusting my bag strap on my shoulder. 

Mabilis na sinuyod ng tingin niya ang mukha ko.

Then, to my surprise, the tiniest hint of amusement touched her mouth.

“Follow me.”

I did.

Mas ridiculous pa ang loob ng mansion kaysa sa labas nito. Marble floors. High ceilings. Art na siguradong mas mahal pa sa kotse ko. Everything was immaculate. Too immaculate. 

The kind of house where every sound echoed.

The kind of house that made you feel watched even when you were alone.

May ilang staff na napatingin sa akin habang dumaraan kami. Yung iba curious. Yung iba mahirap basahin. May isa na halatang naaawa, somehow gusto ko na lang lamunin ako ng lupa right there and then.

This was not my home.

I was not a guest.

And everybody here knew it.

“Your room is on the second floor,” Mrs. Alvarez said as we climbed the staircase. “The staff wing is separate, but Mr. Del Fierro has requested you stay nearer to his side of the house.”

I nearly missed a step.

“I’m sorry, what?”

She kept walking. “You are assigned solely to him. It is more convenient.”

Convenient.

Of course.

Everything about this arrangement sounded worse the more people said it out loud.

Binuksan niya ang pinto sa dulo ng mahabang hallway, then stepped aside.

The room was beautiful.

Malaking kama. Floor-to-ceiling windows. Neutral tones. Isang private bathroom na mas malaki pa sa childhood bedroom ko. May fresh flowers sa desk. Soft lighting. Iyong tipong kwarto na kahit sino would kill to stay in, kung dumating lang sana ito under literally any other circumstance.

“This will be your room,” Mrs. Alvarez said. “Dinner is at eight. Mr. Del Fierro will see you before then.”

I turned to her. “Will see me?”

“Yes.”

“Like an appointment?”

“Yes.”

“Wow. Very normal.”

Umalis siya matapos magbilin ng ilan pang instructions, at sa wakas, naiwan din akong mag-isa.

Ibinagsak ko ang bag ko sa upuan at umupo sa gilid ng kama, nakatitig lang sa kawalan.

My room.

In his mansion.

Near his side of the house.

I wanted to scream.

Or cry.

Or maybe both.

Instead, I stood and went to the mirror.

Still me.

Same face.

Same hair.

Same mouth that got me into trouble yesterday.

Same girl.

But there was already something different in my eyes.

Less certainty.

More sharpness.

Parang nagsimula nang mag-adjust ang katawan ko sa katotohanang kakailanganin ko ng pangil para maka-survive.

May kumatok sa pinto  at exactly seven-thirty.

Not eight.

I opened the door to find a younger staff member holding a garment bag.

“Mrs. Alvarez asked me to bring this, ma’am.”

Ma’am.

I almost laughed.

“Thanks.”

Iniabot niya iyon sa akin at umalis agad. I barely had time to say anything else.

I unzipped the bag and froze.

Inside was a dress.

Black.

Silk.

Sobrang lambot ng tela na dumudulas sa mga daliri ko na parang tubig.

Definitely not maid material.

What the hell.

There was a note pinned to it.

Wear this.

No signature.

As if it needed one.

Mga sampung segundo akong nakatitig sa damit.

Then I laughed under my breath.

Of course he would do this.

Of course, the same man who blackmailed me into living under his roof would also think na may karapatan siyang pakialaman kahit ang isusuot ko.

I should have refused.

I know I should have.

But some stupid, reckless part of me suddenly wanted to know what game he thought he was playing.

Kaya thirty minutes later, nakatayo ako sa harap ng salamin, inaayos ang manipis na strap ng black silk dress na fit na fit sa akin.

It wasn’t vulgar.

No, it was worse.

Elegant. Sleek. Sakto lang ang baba ng neckline to show a bit of my cleavage. Dumudulas ang tela sa katawan ko na parang ginawa talaga iyong damit para sa akin.

I looked expensive.

Like I belonged here.

Like I belonged to this place.

To him.

Nope.

Absolutely not.

Pinulot ko ang natitira kong composure, isinuot ko ulit iyon na parang armor, at lumabas ng kwarto.

Isang staff member ang naghatid sa akin sa private dining room sa first floor, pinakadulo ng hallway.

The doors were already open.

And there he was.

Nakatayo si Vladimir sa may bintana, one hand in his pocket, habang ang isa naman ay may hawak na baso ng kung anong amber-colored na inumin. White dress shirt. Dark trousers. Naka-roll up ang manggas just enough para kita ang mga bisig niya. Wala siyang suot na jacket this time.

Which, honestly, felt rude.

Dahil kung may isang lalaking sisira ng buhay ko, the least he could do was not look that good while doing it.

His gaze lifted the second I stepped inside.

And stayed there.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

From my face to the dress and back again.

Umakyat ang init sa leeg ko nang sobrang bilis, I almost turned around and walked out.

Instead, I shut the door behind me and said, “You sent me a dress.”

“I did.”

I folded my arms. “Why?”

Saglit na bumaba ang tingin niya sa kilos ko, bago muling tumigil sa mga mata ko. “Because I knew you’d look good in it.”

My stomach flipped.

“You say things like that to all your prisoners?”

One corner of his mouth tilted. “Only the difficult ones.”

Ilang hakbang pa ang ginawa ko paloob ng silid, refusing to let him see kung gaano ako ka-uncomfortable sa kanya. 

“Let me get this straight,” I said. “You force me to move into your mansion, make me stay in a room near yours, and now you’re dressing me too?”

His expression didn’t change. “You wore it.”

“That doesn’t mean I liked it.”

“No,” he said, eyes holding mine, “but you still wore it.”

Ugh.

There was something deeply offensive about how every conversation with him felt like a trap.

I stopped across from him, lifting my chin. Why was he so tall? Five-seven na ako pero mas matangkad pa rin siya sa ‘kin. A six-footer.

“So what is this? Some kind of test?” I asked.

He took one slow sip from his glass. “Dinner.”

“With just us?”

“Yes.”

“That’s not weird at all.”

His gaze moved over my face again. “You’re nervous.”

I let out a short laugh. “You wish.”

He set the glass down.

Then he walked toward me.

One step.

Two.

Three.

Too close.

Way too close.

Nauna pang mag-react ang katawan ko kaysa sa utak ko. Bumilis ang tibok ng pulso ko. Sumabit ang hininga ko. Every nerve suddenly too aware.

Huminto siya sa harap ko, close enough na parang uminit ang hangin sa pagitan namin. Close enough para maamoy ko ang mapang-akit niyang pabango.

I refused to step back.

Mostly because I was petty.

Also because I already knew he’d notice.

“You should be careful, Selene,” he said quietly.

My mouth went dry. “Of what?”

“Of looking at me like that.”

I blinked. “Like what?”

“Like you hate me,” he said, voice low and smooth, “when that’s clearly not the only thing you feel.”

The nerve.

The actual nerve.

My jaw tightened. “You’re unbelievably full of yourself.”

“Am I wrong?”

I stared at him.

He stared right back.

God.

This man was impossible.

Worse, he knew exactly what he was doing.

I should have said something smart. Something sharp. Something that would put distance back between us.

Instead, what came out was, “You don’t get to talk to me like that.”

His eyes dropped to my mouth again.

Brief.

Hot.

Infuriating.

“Then stop reacting,” he murmured.

Something in me snapped.

Not in fear.

In defiance.

Mas lalo akong lumapit hanggang halos wala nang matirang espasyo sa pagitan naming dalawa. I could almost feel his toned chest.

“Maybe stop saying things worth reacting to.”

For one second, neither of us moved.

The room felt too quiet.

Too still.

Parang may something warm sa hangin na naghihintay kung sino sa amin ang unang aatras palayo.

Then his hand lifted.

I was trying so hard to breathe naturally.

I thought he was gonna touch me nang umabot ang kamay niya lampas sa balikat ko at itinuck ang isang hibla ng buhok sa likod ng tenga ko.

Barely there. The lightest brush of his knuckles against my skin. Still enough to send heat all the way down my spine.

“Sit,” he said softly.

Lumunok ako nang malalim at bahagyang umatras before my body betrayed me further.

Fine.

If he wanted dinner, he was getting dinner.

But if he thought I was going to make this easy for him?

Absolutely not.

Umupo ako sa tapat niya at nag-angat ng tingin with my sweetest fake smile.

“Tell me, Vladimir,” I said. “Do all your arrangements start with blackmail and silk dresses, or am I just special?”

His gaze held mine over the candlelight.

At nang sumagot siya, his voice was calm enough to made me hold my breath.

“No,” he said. “You’re the only one I wanted close enough to punish.”