Chapter 4

Jarima felt her entire soul leave her body.

Nakatitig siya sa VIP pass na may nakatatak na kulay gintong selyo ng Malacañang, then at Federico’s message on her phone screen: See you in 2 minutes!

"Jusko po," bulong ni Jarima, her voice cracking in pure, unadulterated panic. "Jusko talaga, Lord, wala po akong ginagawang masama. Bakit niyo po ako ipapakulong sa Palasyo?"

Her hands were shaking so violently that she almost dropped the black envelope into the grass. The blacked-out SUV waiting at the corner flashed its headlights twice—a silent, undeniable signal na hindi iyon nagbibiro.

If she stayed, Federico would reach the bench in less than two minutes. He would see the official pass, the black envelope, and he would definitely ask questions.

“Don't tell him I called you.”

Rafa’s low, commanding voice echoed in her head.

"Nababaliw na silang dalawa," Jarima muttered, rapidly shoving the VIP pass and the note into the deepest compartment of her tote bag. Mabilis siyang tumayo mula sa bench, her knees feeling like absolute jelly.

She couldn't let Federico catch her here with a Presidential escort vehicle waiting for her. But she also couldn't just ignore a direct order from the actual President of the Philippines.

Panicking, she typed a lightning-fast reply to Federico while practically sprinting toward the side street where the SUV was parked.

Jarima: Federico! Emergency! Tumawag 'yung landlord ko, kailangan ko raw pirmahan 'yung bagong lease contract asap! Nakaalis na ako! Salamat ulit sa kape! Bukas na lang!

She hit send, not even waiting for a reply as she ducked behind the tinted windows of the waiting SUV.

The PSG driver opened the rear door for her with crisp, military precision. "Good afternoon, Miss Carvajal. Please take a seat."

"Kuya... maawa ka sa 'kin," bulong ni Jarima, clutching her bag against her chest as she slid onto the plush leather interior. "Papatayin niyo po ba ako? Ipakukulong niyo po ba ako dahil sa 'President President' na 'yun? Hindi na po mauulit, promise."

The driver’s lips twitched slightly, but he kept his professional composure as he closed the door. "The President is expecting you, ma'am."

The vehicle smoothly pulled away from the curb, merging into the traffic before making a sharp turn directly into the private, highly restricted West Wing gate of Malacañang Palace.

Meanwhile, at the park bench, Federico arrived holding two small bottles of water.

He stopped, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. The bench was empty. His phone buzzed in his hand with Jarima’s frantic text message about her landlord.

Federico read the message, letting out a soft, amused sigh. "Lease contract agad? Sunod-sunod talaga ang malas ng babaeng 'to ngayong araw."

He chuckled, slipping his phone into his pocket. He didn't suspect a thing. He simply assumed she was rushing off to handle her chaotic civilian life.

Little did Federico know, the woman was currently passing through three layers of Presidential Security detail just a few hundred meters away.

Inside the Palace, Jarima was guided through a series of quiet, grand hallways with high ceilings, polished hardwood floors, and priceless historical paintings hanging on the walls.

The air was cool, smelling faintly of old wood, expensive polish, and crisp air conditioning. Every single guard they passed stood at rigid attention, making Jarima feel like an absolute criminal being marched to execution.

"Here we are, ma'am," the escort officer said, stopping in front of a pair of heavy double doors deep within the private executive residence.

He knocked twice, opened the door, and gestured for her to enter. "Please go ahead."

Jarima swallowed the massive lump in her throat, stepped over the threshold, and heard the heavy doors click shut firmly behind her.

The room was vast, bathed in warm afternoon sunlight filtering through massive arched windows. It was a private study—bookshelves lining the walls, a massive dark desk in the center, and a relaxed lounge area with leather couches.

Standing near a small coffee bar at the side of the room was a man.

He had removed his formal suit jacket and silk tie. The top three buttons of his crisp white dress shirt were unbuttoned, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing strong forearms and a silver watch. He was casually pouring hot water into a porcelain drip coffee filter.

He turned around slowly at the sound of her footsteps.

Jarima’s heart slammed against her ribs so hard it felt painful.

Up close, without the distortion of television cameras or news broadcasts, President Rafael Villareal was ridiculously, unfairly handsome. He had sharp, perfectly defined facial features, thick dark hair slightly styled in casual waves, and eyes that held a sharp, terrifyingly intelligent depth.

Rafa looked at her, his lips curving into that exact same arrogant, teasing smirk she had felt over the phone.

"You're five minutes late, Miss Carvajal," Rafa said, his voice the exact same baritone that had sent shivers down her spine earlier.

Jarima stood frozen in the middle of the room. Her mind went completely blank. All her feisty, sarcastic retorts vanished into thin air.

"President..." she choked out, her voice barely a squeak. "President Villareal."

Parang sa tv lang niya nakikita ang binata, sa mga balita. Pero hindi niya akalaing makikita niya ito sa personal over her bank call mistake!

Rafa set the coffee pot down, resting his hands lightly on his hips as he studied her. He took in her wide, panicked eyes, her tight grip on her tote bag, and the sheer terror radiating from her posture.

"You called me 'Sir Rafa' on the phone," he reminded her smoothly, stepping out from behind the counter and walking slowly toward her. Every step he took felt like a predator cornering its prey—effortless, confident, completely in control. "Where did all that spirit go, Jarima?"

Jarima instinctively took a small step backward. "Sir... Mr. President po... Nakikiusap po ako, joke lang po talaga 'yung kanina! Hindi ko po alam na kayo 'yung kausap ko sa telepono! Akala ko po... akala ko po tsismosong empleyado lang kayo ni Federico!"

Rafa stopped just two feet away from her. He was tall, easily over six feet, forcing Jarima to tilt her head up to look at him.

Hearing her call him a "tsismosong empleyado" right to his face caused an authentic, bright laugh to erupt from his chest.

"Tsismosong empleyado?" Rafa repeated, his eyes crinkling with genuine amusement. "That's a new one. My press secretary usually calls me 'unpredictable'."

Jarima covered her face with both hands, letting out a muffled, dying groan. "Jusko. Ipakulong niyo na lang po ako. Please. Mas madali po 'yun kaysa sa kahiyaan na 'to."

Rafa reached out. Very gently, his fingers brushed against her wrists, carefully pulling her hands down away from her face.

His touch was warm, sending a sudden, electric shock straight down Jarima’s spine. She gasped, her eyes snapping open to meet his.

Rafa didn't pull his hand away immediately. He held her wrists lightly, his gaze locked onto hers with an intensity that made her breath catch completely in her throat.

"I'm not going to put you in jail, Jarima," Rafa murmured softly, his voice dropping into a low, intimate register. "I brought you here because I wanted to see the woman who had the nerve to ask if I was the 'President President'."

Jarima swallowed hard, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs. Up close, the sheer presence of the country's most powerful man was suffocating, magnetic, and completely overwhelming.

"Bakit po?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "Marami po kayong kailangang gawin para sa bansa... Bakit po ako?"

Rafa smiled. It was a soft, genuine smile that lacked all the usual political performance he gave to the public.

"Because everyone in this building looks at me and sees the President," Rafa said quietly, his eyes searching her face with absolute sincerity. "You're the only person who talked to me like I was just a man."

Before Jarima could even digest the weight of his words, Rafa stepped back, gesturing toward the leather couch. "Now, sit down. You offered to buy me thank-you coffee, but since I brought you here, I made it myself."

Coffee with the president? Just wow.