My Lover Is A Boss

Chapter 3

The door clicked shut, immediately cutting off the thunderous roar of the downpour outside, reducing it to a heavy, rhythmic thrumming against the single jalousie window. Riva let out a long, ragged breath, her shoulders sagging as she dropped her plastic expandable folder onto the small wooden dining table. The bright, clinical white glare of the fluorescent lamp illuminated just how miserable they both looked. Water dripped steadily from the hem of her blouse, forming a miniature puddle around her unglued flats.

“Wait, I’ll just go get some towel,” she murmured, shivering violently as she kicked off her ruined shoes.

She hurried to the built-in closet near her small mattress, pulling out two of her thickest, oldest towels. When she turned back around, Valen was still standing strictly on the faded welcome mat by the entrance. He hadn't stepped an inch forward onto the clean linoleum floor, completely conscious of the trail of water he was leaving behind. He stood there, arms slightly away from his sides, looking absurdly large and structural in her cramped, twelve-square-meter studio.

“Here,” Riva said, stepping closer and handing him the larger towel. “Dry your hair first. You might catch a fever.”

“Thank you,” Valen said, his low baritone sounding oddly intimate in the quiet space. He took the towel, immediately dropping his head into it and rubbing at his dark, soaked hair.

Riva wrapped the smaller towel around her own shoulders, wrapping herself tight as she walked over to her tiny kitchenette. She took his dead premium phone from where he had placed it near his keys, finding her universal charger and plugging it into the wall socket. A tiny, red battery icon flickered onto his screen, signaling life.

“There you go. It's charging now. Let's just wait for it to turn on,” she announced, turning back to face him.

Valen pulled the towel away from his face, his dark hair now messy and wildly tousled, hanging loosely over his forehead. The rugged, disorganized look somehow made him look even more devastatingly handsome than he had under the neon streetlights. He looked around the room, his eyes taking in the neatly made single bed, the small rack of textbooks, the single-burner electric stove, and the lack of any second chair.

“Riva,” Valen began, his tone shifting into something quieter, more deliberate. He leaned his hip against the edge of the doorframe, crossing his arms. “Can I ask you something?”

“What is it? Are you hungry? I have instant noodles here if you want. Well, that’s all I have for now,” she offered, already reaching for a pack of chicken ramen.

“No, it’s not that,” he chuckled softly, though the smile didn't quite reach his eyes this time. He looked directly at her, his deep-set eyes filled with a sudden, serious curiosity. “Are you always this trusting? I mean... it’s past midnight. You just brought a completely random guy, a stranger you met on a dark street, directly into your apartment. For all you know, I could be dangerous. Aren't you afraid of getting... hurt? Or r***d?”

Riva froze, her hand hovering over the plastic wrapper of the noodles. The bluntness of the question hung heavily in the air between them. She turned around slowly, leaning her back against the tiled kitchen counter, looking at him thoroughly.

“Are you serious?” she asked, her voice steady but quiet.

“Dead serious,” Valen replied, his expression completely earnest. “You’re a young woman living alone in the city. Traditional, conservative Filipino upbringing usually dictates that you shouldn't even let a man cross your threshold without a chaperone, let alone stay overnight. But here I am. Why aren't you afraid of me?”

Riva let out a soft sigh, tightening the towel around her shivering frame. “For one thing, I saw you under the light, you looked decent enough. Secondly, if you had any bad intentions, you would have acted on them back when we were walking through those dark alleys. You’re bigger than me, Valen. If you wanted to hurt me, you wouldn’t have needed to get yourself invited inside of my room.”

She walked a step closer, pointing a finger at him with a faux-stern expression. “And third... I have a reserve of courage. Learning to read people is my graduation gift to myself. I saw your eyes earlier when your car broke down. You didn't look like a criminal. You looked like a lost, wet puppy. A rich, wet puppy—but a puppy nonetheless.”

Valen blinked, entirely caught off guard by the description, before a rich, genuine laugh burst from his chest. The sound was warm, echoing beautifully against the concrete walls of the studio. “A lost puppy? Wow. I’ve been called a lot of things in my life, I think... but a lost puppy is definitely a first.”

“Well, it’s true!” Riva defended, her lips twitching into a smile as she walked past him to grab a plastic stool from the corner. “Have a seat there for a moment. You’re so tall—my neck hurts looking up at your face.”

Valen took the small plastic stool, looking hilariously oversized as he sat down, his long legs bent acutely. He watched as Riva pulled her brother’s old, faded gray oversized hoodie and a pair of worn-out sweatpants from her closet.

“Try to wear this,” she said, tossing the bundle into his lap. “That’s an outfit my older brother wore back in college. He’s a big guy, so it might fit you. The sleeves and pant legs might be a bit short, though. Go ahead and use the bathroom over there to change. While you do that, I’ll make you a coffee.”

Valen looked down at the faded fleece in his hands, a soft, amused expression crossing his face. “Gray really isn't my color, Ms. Santos, but under the circumstances, I won't complain about the fashion choices of your marketing agency.”

“Well, aren't you being picky? Go on, get inside or you might freeze out there,” she shooed him away with a wave of her hand.

While Valen was in the cramped bathroom, Riva focused on the comforting, mundane task of boiling water. The steady hiss of the electric stove gave her a sense of grounding. She couldn't deny that her heart was beating slightly faster than normal. She had never had a man in her room before, let alone someone who looked like he belonged on the cover of a luxury business magazine. There was a magnetic, effortless charm to him that made the small room feel incredibly small, almost breathless.

When the bathroom door finally clicked open, Riva turned around and had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing out loud.

The hoodie, which used to look massive on her older brother, was stretched tight across Valen’s broad shoulders, the sleeves ending a good two inches above his wrists. The sweatpants were noticeably high-water, riding up his calves and exposing his bare, well-shaped ankles. Despite the absolute ridiculousness of the outfit, he somehow still managed to look incredibly attractive, carrying the worn-out clothes with a casual dignity that defied the cheap fabric.

“Stop laughing,” Valen warned immediately, though a broad grin was plastered across his face. He extended his arms, showing off the short sleeves. “I feel like a teenager who outgrew his entire wardrobe over a single summer break.”

“I’m not even laughing,” Riva lied, her eyes crinkling as she set two steaming mugs of instant coffee onto the wooden table. “It really suits you. You look... softer. You don't look like an grumpy guy from Makati anymore.”

“I am not grumpy,” he countered smoothly, walking over and carefully sitting back down on the small plastic stool. He wrapped his long, elegant fingers around the warm porcelain of the mug, inhaling the rich aroma. “And for the record, I’m incredibly grateful. This is the best thing that’s happened to me all day.”

Riva sat on the edge of her single mattress, which was positioned just across the tiny table, cradling her own mug. “My space is really small. Please bear with me. Usually, I’m the only one here, reading or waiting for a work call.”

“It’s perfect, Riva,” Valen said softly. His gaze dropped to the liquid in his cup, his expression turning pensive as he watched the steam rise and dissipate into the air. “It’s clean, it’s quiet, and it feels... safe. You have no idea how much I appreciate this.”

Riva observed him closely over the rim of her mug. The casual, confident exterior was there, but every now and then, a shadow would cross his features—a fleeting look of profound, heavy exhaustion that didn't quite match a simple case of a blown-out tire. “Valen,” she spoke up, her voice dropping its playful edge. “Are you sure you're really okay? Earlier, when I was asking you about your trip, it seemed like... it seemed like you were deep in thought.”

Valen looked up, his dark eyes locking onto hers. For a moment, the silence between them stretched, thick and heavy with unspoken things. He opened his mouth to speak, but before a word could form, his smartphone on the counter suddenly emitted a loud, cheerful chime, indicating that the battery had reached enough percentage to fully boot up.

The sound broke the spell. Valen blinked, the intense look vanishing as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by his usual calm composure. “Ah, looks like technology is finally cooperating.”

He stood up, his tall frame instantly dominating the room again, and walked over to retrieve the device. Riva watched him as he tapped the screen, expecting him to immediately call a family member, a friend, or someone who was undoubtedly searching for him in the middle of this massive storm.

Valen stared at the glowing screen for a long moment, scrolling through the interface. He didn't look panicked; he just looked thoroughly detached, his fingers moving with absolute precision as he checked the network signal, which was currently showing zero bars due to the heavy storm blocking the area’s cellular towers.

“No signal,” he announced, turning back to her with a calm, reassuring smile. He placed the phone back down on the counter. “Looks like I’m officially stranded here until tomorrow morning, Ms. Santos.”

“I told you so. A typhoon in Manila even swallows up the signal,” Riva said, taking a final sip of her coffee. She stood up to take his empty mug, her fingers brushing against his briefly, sending that same strange, electric jolt straight up her arm.

Valen didn't pull away immediately. He stood close, looking down at her with a gentle, serious expression that made her chest tighten in a completely new way.

“Riva,” he said, his voice dropping to a low, protective register. “Seriously, though. Don't do this again.”

Riva paused, looking up at him. “Which one?”

“This,” he said, gesturing between them. “Bringing a stranger into your home. I know you think you have great instincts, and I appreciate that you saw a 'lost puppy' in me. But the world out there isn't safe, especially for someone as kind as you. Not every guy who gets stranded in the rain has good intentions. Some people will take advantage of that kindness and ruin it.”

He reached out, his thumb gently brushing against the fleece sleeve of her oversized hoodie, a gesture that was incredibly tender yet respectful. “So, promise me. The next time a handsome stranger asks you for help in the middle of the night... you keep the door locked and call the authorities instead. Let me be the only exception.”

“Wow, you’re good at praising yoursef.”

Valen chuckled. “Oh.”

Riva stared at him, her heart doing a slow, heavy roll inside her chest. The sincerity in his eyes was absolute, entirely devoid of malice, yet carrying a weight that felt incredibly profound. She swallowed hard, nodding slowly.

“I promise,” she whispered. “You’re the only exception.”

Valen smiled, the tension leaving his shoulders as he stepped back toward the small sofa near the window. “Good. Now, where do I sleep, boss? I promise to stay strictly on my side of the room.”