Pieces Of You

Chapter 11

Patricia

The moment the words left his mouth, my heart literally skipped a beat. The entire boardroom fell into a dead silence, and I could feel every single eye in the room turning toward me and Jez.

I swallowed hard, my fingers tightening under the table. The nerve of this guy. He was completely using his position to corner me, acting like a strict, untouchable CEO when just three nights ago, he was a total-ugh nevermind!

"We were actually discussing the zoning for the waterfront promenade, Mr. De Guzman," I replied, forcing my voice to sound as cold and professional as his. I sat up straight, locking eyes with him across the table. "Mr. Ocampo and I believe that adjusting the commercial layout will maximize the foot traffic for your luxury hotel. We just wanted to make sure everything is optimized before the official signing."

A subtle murmur of approval went through our board members. I internally smirked. Take that.

Ralf didn't blink. He just stared at me, his dark eyes tracking the movement of my lips before his gaze flicked over to Jez. "Mr. Ocampo," Ralf repeated the name, his voice dropping into a dangerously low register. "I didn't realize Sagun Prime Holdings allowed junior executives to make spontaneous adjustments during a final briefing."

Jez slightly frowned, finally sensing the sharp hostility directed at him. He shifted in his seat, his usual playful demeanor completely gone. "With all due respect, Mr. De Guzman, I'm the head of project development for this township. And as Patricia's..." He paused for a split second, flashing a quick look at me before looking back at Ralf. "...partner, it's my job to ensure every detail is perfect."

Jez meant business partner, but the way he said it-paired with how close he was sitting next to me-made it sound completely ambiguous.

I saw the muscle in Ralf's jaw twitch. His eyes turned incredibly dark, almost predatory. The air in the room became so heavy you could literally cut it with a knife. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table, his eyes drilling holes into Jez.

"Partner," Ralf echoed, the word sounding like an insult on his tongue. He let out a short, humorless breath. "Let's hope your development skills are as sharp as your titles, Mr. Ocampo. Because De Guzman's does not tolerate mistakes. Especially when it comes to things that belong to us."

Oh my god. My face instantly burned up. I knew exactly what he meant by "things that belong to us," but thankfully, the rest of the board just thought he was talking about the project shares.

"Alright, since everything has been cleared up," my Papa's secretary quickly intervened, sweating under the intense pressure. "Let us proceed to the official signing of the Memorandum of Agreement."

Two assistants immediately brought out the massive leather-bound folders and placed them in front of Ralf and me. My hands were slightly shaking as I picked up the heavy fountain pen. I signed my name on the dotted line, and across the table, Ralf did the same without taking his eyes off me for even a second.

"The MOA is officially signed! Congratulations to both companies!" the board members started clapping, and the company photographers immediately stepped forward. "Sir, Ma'am, please stand up together for the official press photo."

I reluctantly stood up, smoothing down my skirt. Ralf walked around the long table, his tall, commanding figure easily dominating the space. When he stood right beside me, his scent-that familiar, expensive mix of sandalwood and masculine cologne-instantly wrapped around my senses. It made my knees feel weak.

"Please shake hands and look at the camera," the photographer instructed.

I raised my right hand, and Ralf smoothly took it. But instead of a standard corporate handshake, his large, warm palm completely engulfed mine. His grip was firm.

As the camera flashes started blinding us, Ralf subtly stepped a fraction of an inch closer, his shoulder brushing against mine. He leaned down slightly, his lips brushing past the shell of my bare ear.

"You look beautiful today, Patricia," he murmured, his deep voice a barely audible vibration that shot straight down my spine. "But you're missing something."

Before I could even gasp, I felt his thumb lightly graze the side of my wrist, right where his grip tightened.

"Don't worry," he whispered, his tone dripping with a dangerous, possessive confidence. "I'm keeping it safe for you".

The second the photographer shouted "Cut!", I practically ripped my hand away from Ralf's grip. My heart was pounding so hard against my ribs I was genuinely afraid someone else could hear it.

"Excuse me," I mumbled blindly to anyone listening. I didn't even wait for a response. I turned on my heel and rushed straight out of the conference room, needing to find a place where I could actually breathe.

The heavy glass doors swung shut behind me. The corporate hallway was completely empty, bathed in the quiet hum of the air conditioning. I leaned my back against the cold wall, closing my eyes as I pressed a hand against my chest.

Oh my god. This couldn't be happening. Of all the billionaires in the country, why did the guy from the hotel have to be Ralf De Guzman? And why did he have to look so incredibly attractive in a three-piece suit while casually threatening my sanity?

"Running away again, Patricia?"

My eyes snapped open.

Ralf was standing just a few feet away, the door to the boardroom quietly clicking shut behind him. He didn't rush. He just walked toward me with his hands casually slipped into his trouser pockets, his eyes completely locked onto mine like a predator cornering its prey.

"I am not running away, Mr. De Guzman," I stammered, trying to straighten my posture and channel every bit of corporate confidence I had left. "I just needed some air."

He stopped right in front of me, completely eclipsing the light. He was so close I could smell the faint trace of his sandalwood cologne again. He slowly leaned one hand against the wall right beside my head, effectively trapping me between his chest and the concrete.

"Mr. De Guzman," he echoed, a dangerous, low chuckle escaping his lips. "We were much more intimate three nights ago, sweetheart. You didn't call me that when you were begging me to-"

"Shut up!" I hissed, my face burning bright red as I quickly covered his mouth with my hand. I glanced frantically down the empty hallway, terrified that a janitor or a board member might walk out.

"Are you insane?! This is a workplace! Someone might hear you!"

Ralf didn't pull away. Instead, I felt the ghost of a smirk press against my palm. His dark eyes melted into something incredibly intense, staring down at me with possessive heat. Slowly, he reached up and gently wrapped his large fingers around my wrist, pulling my hand away from his mouth-but he didn't drop it. He held it right against his chest, right over the steady, heavy thumping of his heart.

"Then don't run away from me," he whispered, his voice dropping into a rough, commanding velvet. "You left the hotel before I even woke up. You didn't leave a note. You didn't even leave a name. Do you have any idea how furious I was?"

"It was just one night. No strings attached. You shouldn't even care!"

"Well, I do," he countered instantly, his grip tightening just a fraction around my wrist. His gaze flicked down to my bare neck, then back to my eyes. "You're mine. The moment you stepped into that room, you became mine."

"I am not a piece of property, Ralf!" I snapped, using his first name without realizing it.

The corner of his lips twitched upward at the sound of his name. "Good. Keep calling me that."

Before I could even process a comeback, the sound of loud chatter and laughing echoed from the other side of the hallway.

The boardroom doors were opening. The meeting was officially over, and everyone was heading out for the celebratory lunch.

I panicked, instantly ripping my hand out of his grip and stepping a few inches away just as my Papa and the other executives turned the corner.

"Ah, Ralf! Patricia! There you are," Papa smiled warmly, gesturing toward the executive elevators. "We've set up a private dining room at the grand restaurant downstairs. Let's go celebrate this multi-billion peso milestone, shall we?"

Ralf's expression transformed instantly. In less than a second, the dangerous, possessive predator vanished, replaced entirely by the flawless, charming, and cold billionaire CEO.

"Of course, Mr. Sagun," Ralf replied smoothly, giving my Papa a polite nod. "Lead the way."

The private dining room at the restaurant was stunning, featuring a long mahogany table filled with premium catering. But the seating arrangement was an absolute disaster for my mental health.

Papa sat at the head of the table. Ralf smoothly took the seat directly to Papa's right-which put him directly across from me. And to make matters worse, Jez naturally slid into the seat right next to me, casually pouring a glass of water for me first before fixing his own.

"Here, Pat. Drink up, you look a bit flushed," Jez whispered softly, placing the glass in front of me.

"Thanks, Jez," I murmured, desperately avoiding Ralf's gaze. But even without looking, I could literally feel the cold temperature radiating from across the table.

As the food was served, the older board members started loosening up, sipping their wine and laughing. Two senior executives from our Company were sitting near the end of the table, talking loudly enough for the top half of the room to hear.

"This Cebu waterfront project is really a massive win for both families," one of the older board members remarked, chuckling as he looked toward me and Jez. "But you know what's an even bigger win? The upcoming union of Sagun and Ocampo."

I frozen mid-chew. My fork nearly slipped from my fingers.

"Oh, absolutely!" the other board member chimed in, completely oblivious to the sudden tension. "The arranged marriage between Patricia and Jezreil is the talk of the industry. "

Jez just chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Tito, please, we're in a business lunch," he joked lightly, trying to brush it off since we both talk about it with our families.

Papa glance at me and Jezreil he just smiled but he didn't correct the old man.

But I couldn't laugh. I slowly raised my eyes to look across the table.

Ralf was holding a crystal wine glass halfway to his lips. He had stopped completely. His entire body was rigid, and the polite, corporate mask he wore earlier completely shattered. His eyes were dead, pitch-black, and fixed entirely on Jez, before slowly drifting over to me.

The muscle in his jaw was working so hard I thought it might actually snap. The sheer, unadulterated jealousy and fury rolling off him was so suffocating that the air in the private room instantly turned ice-cold. He set his wine glass down on the table with a sharp, echoing clink that made a few people stop talking.

He stared directly into my soul, his eyes screaming a single, terrifying promise: You belong to me, and I will destroy anyone who tries to take you.