"What are you doing here?!" I spoke softly but with emphasis. Lennox had the nerve to visit me at my business building.
"Why are you backing out from the wedding? Isn't it exciting to see if Wayne still has feelings for you or not?" he asked, as if it were a normal thing to say, his tone casual and teasing.
"What?! Are you even sane? Whether he has feelings or not, what's it to you? And why are you making things difficult? What's your deal?" I shot back, frustration bubbling inside me.
"I already told you," he replied, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "It's fun."
"If you want to play with people's lives, don't drag me into it. Find someone else to play with, someone on your level." I was about to walk away when he grabbed my arm, his grip firm and insistent.
"Oh fuck, you're just making me want you," he said, his voice low and intense, like a mad dog.
"Then fuck you," I told him, yanking my arm away harshly. I really didn't like him. Even if he were the only man in the world, I wouldn't even take a look at him.
"It will only make things difficult for your Aunt, Amarra. You're not going to like it," were the words I heard from him, but I didn't bother looking back. Anger and frustration swirled inside me, pushing me to escape the conversation.
I returned to my office to get back to work when Hazel transferred a call to me from home. I promptly answered.
"Yes?" I asked, lacking any enthusiasm.
"Amarra? Don't you feel ashamed of yourself? Your aunt sent you to school, and this is how you repay her? By giving up her business? How could you?" My dad's voice boomed through the phone, forcing me to pull it away from my ear.
"What is wrong this time?" I replied, barely able to mask my boredom.
"Your aunt's business is now in the possession of Dela Cruz. If you agreed to get married, they would return it to us, but since you refuse, they're taking it from us. Do you understand what you've done?" My dad's voice was filled with frustration and urgency, each word weighing heavily on me.
Tension coiled in my stomach as I processed his words. The gravity of the situation began to sink in, and I felt a mix of anger and helplessness wash over me.
Why does it have to be me all the time? Why do I always have to sacrifice for everyone else's happiness? When will I be happy without thinking about others? How long do I have to endure this? Damn!
"I'll try to solve this, calm down," I replied before ending the call.
As I sat in the heavy silence, I massaged my temples, feeling a headache creeping in. The weight of my dad's words lingered in my mind, making it hard to focus.
"Miss Amarra, you have an urgent meeting with Mr. Buenaventura," Hazel suddenly interrupted, her tone brisk and professional.
"Urgent meeting? I thought we will have a meeting on Thursday?" I asked, glancing at my schedule for the week, confusion etched on my face. After all, Thursday is still a few days away.
"Yes, you will also meet him then, but this meeting is urgent, Miss Amarra." Her eyes were serious, conveying the importance of the situation.
I took a deep breath, trying to steady my racing thoughts. The day was already spiraling out of control, and the last thing I needed was more pressure.
"Okay, then let's proceed to the location," I said as I got up, feeling a mix of determination and anxiety. We walked out together, the sound of our footsteps echoing in the hallway.
....
"Mr. Buenaventura, what's with this urgent meeting?" I asked as I sat down in front of his chair, just a few feet away from him.
"I'm sorry I had to call you on such short notice. It's about my investment in your father's company," he replied, his expression serious.
I leaned forward, curiosity piqued. "What about the investment? Is there a problem?"
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I need to discuss some discrepancies in the financial reports. If we don't address them soon, it could jeopardize the entire project."
My heart raced. "What do you mean by discrepancies? Is there something we should be worried about?"
He met my gaze, his eyes steady. "I need your help to clarify a few things. It's critical we get this sorted out before it escalates."
We talked about work, staying focused on the task at hand. I admired his professionalism when it came to business; he had an uncanny ability to cut through distractions and get straight to the point. His attention to detail was impressive, and I found myself taking notes furiously, eager to keep up with his insights.
As we delved deeper into the issues, I noticed the passion in his voice. "We need to ensure everything aligns with the projections," he said, his brow furrowing slightly. "If we don't address these concerns now, it could lead to bigger problems down the line."
I nodded, feeling a sense of urgency. "I completely agree. Let's outline a plan to tackle this immediately."
When we finally finished the meeting, I stood up and stretched a little.
"How about we have dinner?" Wayne offered as he packed up his things, his tone casual yet inviting.
"No need, Mr. Buenaventura. I'll eat at home," I replied politely, trying to keep my tone light and professional.
"But, Amarra, I'm offering dinner. Besides, you look tired already. It's best to rest once you get home," he insisted, his voice carrying a genuine concern that made it harder to refuse.
I hesitated, considering his offer. "I appreciate it, but I really have things to take care of at home," I said, trying to find a polite way out.
"Come on," he urged, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "It'll be a chance to unwind. Just one meal. We can discuss the project more informally."
I sighed, feeling the weight of the day pressing down on me. The thought of going home to more work was exhausting. "Alright, just this once. But only if we keep it quick," I finally agreed, still wary but too tired to argue.
"Deal!" he said, his eyes lighting up with satisfaction. "I know a great place nearby."
"Okay," I replied, grabbing my bag from the seat beside me. We left the coffee shop where we had met for our urgent meeting, and he guided me to his car, his gentlemanly gesture catching me slightly off guard as he opened the door for me. I slid into the passenger seat, and he got in, driving us to the nearest restaurant.
When we arrived, I glanced around and noticed the sign. "A resto-bar?" I asked, curious and a bit surprised.
Wayne stepped out and opened the door for me once again. As I got out, I took in the view of the place—modern, sleek, with a warm, inviting atmosphere. "This is my brother's business, Raze," he explained, nodding towards the sign that read 'Raze B.' I nodded in acknowledgment, impressed by the upscale vibe of the place as we walked inside.
The resto-bar was expansive, with a public space on the ground floor that had tables for two and larger groups. The ambiance was lively yet refined, the lighting dim enough to be cozy but bright enough to see the stylish decor. "It's a nice place," I remarked as we continued walking.
Wayne led me through the building, and as we moved up to the second floor, I noticed it was more of a communal dining area with people enjoying their meals and drinks. The atmosphere was buzzing with conversation, yet there was an air of privacy to each table. The third to fifth floors, however, were different—these levels were dedicated to private rooms for those seeking a more intimate dining experience.
When we finally arrived at the private room Wayne had booked, I couldn't help but be impressed. The room was tastefully decorated, with soft lighting and plush seating that invited relaxation. A waiter was already there, ready to accommodate us, taking our orders with a professionalism that added to the upscale feel of the place.
"This really is a nice place," I said, genuinely impressed, as the waiter discreetly left us to make our selections.
Wayne smiled, clearly pleased with my reaction. "I thought you'd like it. It's the perfect spot to unwind after a long day."
"It is indeed," I agreed, nodding slightly as I took in the ambiance of the room. The soft lighting and comfortable setting made it easy to relax, and I felt a small sense of relief wash over me. As we waited for our order, Wayne broke the silence, trying to ease into a casual conversation.
"How's your day today?" he asked, his tone light but genuinely curious.
"It's... been a little tiring," I replied, reaching for the glass of water the waiter had placed in front of me. I took a sip, letting the cool liquid soothe my dry throat.
"Work?" he inquired, mirroring my action as he took a sip from his own glass.
I sighed, the weight of the day's events pressing down on me. "Not just work," I admitted, lowering my gaze to the table, where I began absentmindedly playing with my nails. After a moment, I added, "Dela Cruz bought my mamang's business. He gave me an ultimatum: if I don't agree to marry him, he's going to sell it. But if I do, he'll give it back."
Wayne's expression shifted to one of concern, his eyes narrowing slightly as he processed what I had just said. "That sounds tough. But Dela Cruz has always been that kind of person. He doesn't let anything stand in his way," he said, his voice steady but laced with a hint of disdain. "Actually, he wasn't just a senior high classmate of mine—he was also my rival in academics. Although, to be honest, that rivalry was mostly in his head. He wanted to be top of the class, but I was always there, just a step ahead of him."
I listened, intrigued by this new piece of information. But there was something else I needed to know, something that had been bothering me. "By the way, why did you buy my father's business when it was already sinking?" I asked, finally voicing the question that had been lingering in my mind.
Wayne paused, taking another sip of water before responding. "Well, I knew you were going to save it," he said, his tone serious. "No one else in your family is as business-minded as you."
I frowned, puzzled by his answer. "What?" I asked, a small smirk tugging at my lips as I remembered a different explanation he had given me before. "But last time you told me you bought it because Isabella asked you to."
Wayne leaned back slightly, his expression thoughtful. "That's true too," he admitted, intertwining his fingers as he looked directly into my eyes, his gaze intense and unwavering. "But let's be honest," he continued, his voice low and earnest. "No one would want to buy a sinking business unless they saw something worth saving."
His words hung in the air between us, heavy with meaning. There was an undeniable truth in what he said, and it struck a chord deep within me. I looked at him, trying to understand the complexity of his motivations, but all I could see was sincerity in his eyes.
"Okay, okay. Whatever," I replied with a lighthearted tone, not wanting to disrupt the casual and friendly mood we had settled into. I flashed a small smile, trying to keep the conversation from getting too heavy.
As our food arrived, we began eating, the tension from earlier easing into a more comfortable rhythm. We continued chatting, our conversation flowing naturally from today's events to work-related topics. Wayne brought up the investment in my father's business, and we discussed it in more detail, our dialogue a mix of professional insight and personal reflections.
The food was delicious, and the atmosphere in the private room was intimate and relaxed. The soft music playing in the background blended perfectly with the low hum of conversation from the floors below. Wayne's company was surprisingly easy to enjoy, and I found myself laughing more than I had expected.
After we finished our meal, Wayne suggested we have a few drinks. I hesitated for a moment, but then decided to go along with it—after all, it was nice to unwind a bit after such a long day. The waiter brought us a selection of drinks, and soon enough, we were sipping on cocktails, the alcohol adding a pleasant warmth to the evening.
As we drank, our conversation grew even more relaxed. We shared stories, some about work, some about life in general. The alcohol loosened our tongues, and we began to delve into more personal topics, reminiscing about old memories and catching up on the years we had missed in each other's lives. There was a sense of nostalgia in the air, mixed with the buzz from the drinks and the comfortable setting.
Wayne's laughter was infectious, and I found myself genuinely enjoying the moment, the worries and stresses of the day slowly melting away. The evening had taken on a different tone—one of camaraderie, tinged with the faintest hint of something deeper, something unresolved between us.