CHAPTER 1
1500 Words
AMIRAH stared intently at the photo her older sister had sent through Messenger.
The man looked strangely familiar. She was certain she had seen him somewhere before—but where? She rested her chin on her hand, absentmindedly tapping her cheek with one finger in thought.
“I’ve been calling your name for five minutes, beshy! But no, you’re too busy drooling over that handsome man’s picture!”
Amirah almost jumped when Alota, her friend, suddenly appeared behind her and snatched the phone from her hands. The sudden movement made Amirah lose her balance, her forehead landing lightly on the desk.
“Hmmm, if I were you, I’d fall in love too. This man’s too hot to ignore,” Alota teased, puckering her lips exaggeratedly before throwing her a mischievous glance.
Amirah sighed deeply and reached for the folder her friend had placed on her desk. She hadn’t even noticed Alota come in. As she reviewed the figures on the page, she looked up again at her friend.
Alota had been with her since high school, and now worked for their family as an accountant.
“My sister sent it,” Amirah said, referring to her older sister, who was now living in Batangas after marrying a local businessman. “There’s a family dinner tonight… with that man’s family.” She looked up from her papers. “Do you know him?”
“My gosh, Amirah! Who doesn’t?” Alota’s eyes widened as she pointed at the phone screen. “That’s Rustam Montelibano, heir to the Montelibano Empire! Every girl—and even half the gay population—dreams of him!”
“And how come you know him and I don’t?” Amirah muttered, putting down the phone and signing a document.
“How would you know him when your whole world revolves around your Chinese-looking boyfriend?” Alota rolled her eyes and sat down in the visitor’s chair, folding her arms.
“Come on, bes. Give yourself a chance to meet someone new! I’m not saying break up with him, but he’s literally your first and only boyfriend. Don’t tell me you honestly believe you’ll end up together forever?” Her friend pouted. “You’re still so young. And how sure are you that Cliff isn’t two-timing you?”
Amirah ignored the jab and continued working. After earning her degree in Tourism at La Salle, she had given up her dream of becoming a flight attendant to help run her family’s businesses. They weren’t obscenely rich, but in their small town, they lived more than comfortably. Her mother had inherited a modest estate from her ancestors, then married a Chinese businessman from Hong Kong who chose to settle down locally.
“Anyway,” Alota went on, “what’s this dinner really for?”
“It’s complicated,” Amirah replied, reaching for her compact powder from her bag. “Some old arrangement between our parents, I think. Though honestly, it’s pointless now. Grandpa’s gone, and whatever promise they made should’ve died with him. They’re probably just discussing business. That’s all.”
“Don’t tell me your family still believes in fixed marriages,” Alota laughed, staring at the ceiling. “In this day and age?”
Amirah laughed too, packing up her things. “I told you, it’s not like that.” She stood and glanced at the clock. “Almost five. Aren’t you heading home yet? Overtime’s unpaid, you know,” she teased.
They both left the office together, and Amirah offered her friend a ride home.
THAT night, sitting at the dinner table, Amirah could hardly keep calm. Her heart pounded wildly each time her gaze fell on the man across from her—Rustam.
He looked like a Greek god—so effortlessly handsome that she almost wanted to paint him.
“Calm down, self,” she whispered, discreetly fanning her neckline for air. Alota had been right—this man was the definition of dangerously attractive. Only a robot could stay unaffected under that kind of gaze.
When her parents introduced them earlier, Rustam’s presence had already stolen her attention. She could tell, even beneath his semi-suit and gray shirt, that he was lean and built. His white sneakers and casual jeans gave him a youthful, Korean-inspired charm that made her secretly giggle. Unfortunately, the man caught her doing so—and the amusement in his eyes told her he noticed.
Flustered, she quickly looked away.
Then, in the middle of dinner, her father’s voice cut through the chatter:
“So, Señor Agusto, why don’t we schedule the engagement at the end of this month?”
“Dad!” she hissed, eyes widening. “That wasn’t part of the deal. You can’t be serious! How can I marry someone I barely know? And what about Cliff? How do I even explain this to him?”
Rustam’s jaw tightened slightly at the mention of another man.
“Isn’t this dinner precisely for that reason—to let you two get to know each other?” her father teased.
“What more do you need, hija?” her mother chimed in. “You can’t possibly complain about your future husband—he’s perfect!” She smiled warmly at Rustam, who returned her smile with quiet confidence.
“Ma, please! You’re not seriously talking about marriage, are you? That’s ridiculous!”
The eldest Montelibano chuckled, raising his glass. “No need to rush. Let’s give the young ones time to know each other.”
Rustam stayed quiet, chewing calmly, expression unreadable. The lack of reaction made Amirah even more uneasy.
When she excused herself to the veranda, she let the cool night air ease her frustration. The laughter of the elders drifted faintly from inside. She leaned against a post, staring into the darkness.
Then a low voice, husky and near her ear, broke the silence.
“What is it that makes me so unfit to be your husband?”
She froze. His breath brushed against her neck, sending a wave of heat down her spine. She turned, finding him far too close.
“Do we need to kiss first before you can decide?” he murmured, amusement lacing his tone.
Shocked, she pushed him away. “You’re crazy!” she spat, though her trembling knees betrayed her.
Before she could escape, he caught her again—his arms circling her waist, pulling her flush against him. She collided with his chest, hard and warm. His scent clouded her senses.
Then his hand cupped her cheek—and suddenly, his lips were on hers.
Her eyes flew wide. She tried to speak, but his tongue slipped through the parting of her lips, exploring, claiming.
The world spun. Her body melted, her thoughts scattered. It was an unfamiliar fire coursing through her veins—terrifying and intoxicating all at once.
When he finally pulled away, she stood frozen, breathless.
He smirked. “You can’t deny you’re attracted to me. Break up with your boyfriend—and let’s get married.”
And just like that, he left her standing there, utterly stunned.
“Who the hell are you to order me to break up with him and marry you, jerk?!” she shouted after him, furious.
That night, as she lay in bed, the memory of that kiss burned in her mind.
“Jerk,” she muttered again.
MEANWHILE,, Rustam stared down at the marble floor of his room, the glass of whiskey glinting in his hand.
“So… her name is Amirah,” he said under his breath, exhaling slowly.
In his thirty-two years of life, he had never experienced such a vivid déjà vu. Something about her unsettled him—her eyes, her presence.
He poured another drink, the image of her face replaying in his mind.
He never intended to marry anyone—not through an arrangement, and certainly not now. He barely knew the Atienzas, except that his grandfather had once been close friends with Amirah’s late grandfather.
He had met countless women before—beautiful, intelligent, ambitious—but Amirah was different. She stirred something inconveniently real.
Earlier that night, when she mentioned her boyfriend, he’d felt an inexplicable irritation—a quiet rebellion he couldn’t explain.
The dinner had been meant for business, not for marriage talk. Even her parents didn’t seem serious about it. But seeing her flustered reaction when marriage was brought up—it amused him.
She was refreshing in her pink blouse and white shorts, her legs catching his eye as she descended the stairs. She wasn’t tall, but every inch of her body seemed perfectly proportioned. A mix of Chinese grace and Filipino warmth.
He smiled faintly at the thought. He had followed her to the veranda out of pure curiosity, but that single impulsive moment—her defiance, her lips—had left him completely off balance.
“Damn it,” he muttered, finishing his drink. “What the hell are you doing to me, Amirah Atienza?”
- Writer
