Torn Between Two Billionaires

The chandeliers were too bright. That was Sofia Reyes’ first thought as she stepped into La Jolie, one of Makati’s most exclusive French restaurants tucked inside a boutique hotel dripping in polished marble and understated wealth. Everything sparkled—wine glasses, cutlery, even the concierge's smile—as if the whole place was designed to intimidate. She tugged her silk dress lower over her thighs and gave her reflection in the hostess stand’s glass a quick glance. Her cheeks were flushed—not from nerves, of course, but from the Manila heat. At least, that’s what she told herself. She didn’t do blind dates. And she definitely didn’t do parent-arranged matchmaking dinners. Yet here she was, heels clicking across the polished floors, clutching a vintage clutch like it could shield her from bad decisions and worse men. “Reservation under Reyes,” she told the hostess. The woman gave her a polite nod and motioned to follow. “Your guest has already arrived, ma’am.” Her guest. Sofia sighed quietly. Her mother had been vague, saying only that the man came from “a good family” and “wasn’t a stranger to power.” That could mean anything in Manila’s elite circles. She braced herself for a balding politician’s nephew, or worse, a spoiled hotel heir who couldn’t string a full sentence without a drink in his hand. But when she rounded the corner and saw him—She stopped cold. Sitting in a corner booth like he owned the entire establishment, like he always owned every room, was Dominic Blackwell. The Dominic Blackwell. Six foot three, all lean muscle in a tailored charcoal suit, his face angled toward his phone as if the rest of the world didn’t exist. That chiseled jaw, sharp cheekbones, dark brown hair swept back just so—yes, that was him. And those piercing ice-blue eyes, the ones that made boardrooms go silent when he looked up—those belonged to the same man who used to sign Sofia’s ex-boyfriend’s paycheck. Her ex’s boss. The one who fired him. The man who had once glanced at Sofia at a Christmas party and made her knees wobble with a single, unreadable look. She should’ve turned and walked out. Instead, she cleared her throat. Dominic looked up—and for a split second, his cool façade cracked. His brow lifted, just slightly. Recognition flared in those eyes, quickly shuttered behind that practiced steel mask of his. “Sofia Reyes,” he said, standing. “I’ll be damned.” His voice was smoother than she remembered. Less polished, more intimate—like he wasn’t just greeting her, but tasting the syllables of her name. Sofia blinked. “You’re the blind date?” He gave a brief shrug, one hand adjusting the cuff of his jacket. “I didn’t want to be here either.” There it was. The arrogance. Sofia slid into the booth opposite him, her heart hammering in her chest, every part of her telling her to leave. And yet… curiosity. Curiosity was a dangerous thing. “You didn’t know who you were meeting?” she asked, eyeing him. “My sister set it up. Said the Reyes family was ‘traditional but sharp,’” he said. “She mentioned you were ‘elegant, driven, and not entirely insufferable.’ I figured that was high praise coming from her.” Sofia smirked despite herself. “And yet here you are, the great Dominic Blackwell, submitting himself to an arranged dinner like the rest of us mere mortals.” “I lost a bet,” he said dryly. Sofia laughed, the sound surprising even to her. She watched him closely. He was even more dangerous in person—sharper, smoother, and far more lethal than any photo or rumor could capture. “So, how do you want to do this?” she asked, glancing at the menu but not reading it. “We order food, make some fake polite conversation, pretend we’re not sizing each other up like a couple of competitors at an auction…” “Or,” Dominic interrupted, “we make a pact.” She raised an eyebrow. “We fake it,” he said. “Just for tonight. Say we hit it off. Make our families happy. Leave with our reputations intact.” Sofia leaned back in her seat, eyes narrowing. “Fake dating. That’s your big plan?” “Better than sitting through dessert with a stranger pretending to care about your hobbies.” He lifted a brow. “Unless you’re into that sort of thing.” She pursed her lips. “You always assume women want to fall at your feet?” He gave a half-smile, more wolfish than charming. “Only when they wear a dress like that.” Sofia’s cheeks flamed—not from embarrassment, but from the heat that pulsed between them. God, he was infuriating. And god, he was hot. She crossed her arms. “Fine. We fake it. Tonight only. No strings. No expectations.” Dominic extended his hand across the table, eyes never leaving hers. “Deal.” She hesitated for a beat, then placed her hand in his. His grip was warm. Firm. Possessive, almost. And in that moment, Sofia Reyes knew she was walking into something much more dangerous than a blind date. Because pretending with Dominic Blackwell? That was the kind of lie that could start a fire. #StaryWritingAcademyV