Chapter 5

Winston's POV

I've closed billion-dollar deals with less difficulty than dealing with one woman. Honestly, looking at her, she reminded me of a tiger that had just escaped from its cage. I'd rather deal with endless meetings and impossible deadlines than live under the same roof as that woman. I stared at the closed bedroom door across the hallway before rubbing the bridge of my nose.

"This is going to be a very long week."

"No," Attorney Castillo corrected calmly.

"A month."

I slowly turned toward him. I hadn't even noticed that he had followed me upstairs. And I definitely didn't like what I had just heard.

"What?"

"The arrangement is for one month."

I blinked. Once.

No. Absolutely not.

"Absolutely not."

"It's Don Alejandro's instruction."

"I don't care if it's my grandfather's instruction."

My voice remained calm, but I could already feel my patience wearing dangerously thin.

"One week was already unreasonable. A month is ridiculous."

Attorney Castillo calmly adjusted his glasses. "Then consider it a test."

"A test?" I quickly shook my head.

Since when did I ever say I liked tests?

The only thing I liked was making money.

"I don't take tests, Attorney. So please stop this nonsense."

"No."

A faint smile crossed his face.

"You usually give them."

I looked away. I hated it whenever he made sense.

"I have work," I said. "Board meetings. Investor presentations. International conferences. I don't have time to babysit some provincial girl."

Seriously… Out of all the women my grandfather could have chosen… Why did it have to be someone from the province? There were countless beautiful, sophisticated women in Manila. If he wasn't sure about my type, he could have simply asked. I would've gladly given him a list.

But a country girl? No freaking way.

"You don't have to."

"Good."

"You only have to live in the same house."

That wasn't any better. Actually… Maybe I should just buy her a condominium.

That would solve everything. She could stay there instead of living in my mansion. Problem solved. Attorney Castillo reached into his briefcase and handed me another envelope.

"These are your grandfather's house rules."

I frowned. "My grandfather left house rules?"

Apparently, ruining my peace of mind wasn't enough. Even after his death, he was still finding ways to stress me out.

"He anticipated your personality."

Of course he did. I sighed before opening the envelope. There were only three short sentences.

Treat her with respect. Do not intentionally make her feel unwelcome. If she leaves because of your behavior, you fail.

I stared at the paper for several long seconds. He really knew exactly how to trap me.

"So if she decides to leave..." Attorney Castillo nodded. "You lose your inheritance."

Unbelievable. My grandfather hadn't left me a company. He had left me in a hostage situation.

~

About an hour later, I finally found myself inside my office. Peace and silence. Exactly the way I liked it. I opened my laptop and continued reviewing tomorrow's acquisition proposal.

Five minutes passed, then ten. Everything remained perfectly quiet. Maybe, she had finally decided to stay inside her room.

Good.

I had barely finished signing another document when someone knocked on my office door. I ignored it. A second knock followed.

"Sir?"

I finally looked up. One of the housemaids stood awkwardly outside my office.

"What is it?"

She looked unusually nervous. "Miss Guanzon is asking..."

I waited.

"...where the rice cooker is."

I frowned. "What?"

"The rice cooker, Sir."

I stared at her. "Why would she need a rice cooker?"

The maid smiled awkwardly. "She said she's hungry."

I checked my watch. Three-thirty in the afternoon.

"Lunch ended two hours ago."

"She said she wasn't hungry earlier."

I closed my eyes for a brief second. "Tell Chef Roberto to prepare something."

"We did, Sir."

"And?"

"She doesn't want the truffle risotto."

My frown deepened. "What does she want?"

The maid hesitated. "Fried dried fish."

What the hell?

"Excuse me?"

"With tomatoes..." She swallowed nervously. "...and shrimp paste."

I slowly leaned back in my chair. This had to be a joke.

"We don't have dried fish in this house."

"I already told her that, Sir."

"And?"

"She asked where the nearest market is."

I pinched the bridge of my nose. Of course she did.

~

Windy's POV

Being rich was surprisingly exhausting. I'd been walking around this kitchen for what felt like forever. It was ridiculously huge. Honestly, I thought it was even bigger than our entire house back in Batangas. Everything sparkled.

Literally. Every appliance looked so expensive that I was afraid to touch anything.

There was an oven. A microwave. An air fryer. A coffee machine. And several other machines that I didn't even know the names of. But somehow, I couldn't find a single rice cooker.

"Oh no..." I scratched my head. "How do rich people even cook rice?"

A soft cough suddenly came from behind me. I quickly turned around. A chef wearing a spotless white uniform was standing there, looking at me politely.

"Ma'am..."

I smiled. "Hello."

"Are you looking for something?"

"Yes."

"What do you need?"

"A rice cooker."

He blinked. "We have one."

"Huh?"

"We use an automatic rice system."

I stared at him. "An automatic... what?"

He smiled before pointing toward a large stainless steel machine in the corner.

"Oh..." I scratched my head again. "I thought that was a refrigerator."

The chef let out a quiet laugh. I ended up laughing too. It wasn't my fault. We didn't have things like that back in the province. But we were doing just fine without them.

"Oh my goodness..."

"That's embarrassing."

A few minutes later… The chef carefully placed an elegant-looking dish in front of me.

It looked delicious. Really delicious. But it wasn't what I wanted.

"Chef..."

"Yes, Ma'am?"

"Can we just fry some dried fish instead?"

He blinked again. "Dried fish?"

"Yes."

"And some tomatoes. Oh, and shrimp paste too."

He looked even more surprised. I smiled sheepishly.

"If there's no dried fish..." I sighed dramatically. "...then even a fried egg is fine."

The chef quietly nodded. "I'll ask Mr. Domingo."

My eyes widened. "Oh no! Please don't!"

But it was too late. He had already hurried out of the kitchen. I covered my forehead with my hand.

"Oh, come on! Do they really need to ask that grumpy man just to fry dried fish?" I let out a long sigh. "Great job, Windy. It's only your first day and you're already causing trouble."

What I didn't know… Was that a man had been standing quietly in the hallway the entire time. Listening and for the first time that day, the corner of Winston's lips lifted ever so slightly.

Not because he found her charming. But because, in all his years of living in that mansion… He had never met a woman whose very first request was fried dried fish.