Chapter 5 – Enter the Brit
1198 Words
The ballroom shimmered with old money and curated grace.
Sofia Reyes stood at the edge of it all, flute of champagne in hand, trying not to fidget with the gold-threaded slit of her dress. The gala was for one of the largest children’s charities in the Philippines, hosted annually at the Manila Grand Imperial Hotel. High society buzzed around her—senators, CEOs, socialites, and too many men who looked at her like she was on the silent auction table.
She wasn’t here to network. She was here because the Reyes family was a sponsor, and her mother insisted she "show face" in a gown that cost more than her first car.
So here she was—drinking champagne she didn’t like, smiling at people she didn’t trust, and pretending she wasn’t looking for him.
Dominic hadn’t shown up.
She told herself it was a relief.
Then the room shifted.
The kind of shift you feel before you even know why.
A ripple of whispers spread through the crowd—half in Tagalog, half in English—about a late arrival. Sofia turned, not because she was curious, but because she felt it. That gravitational pull again.
And then she saw him.
Tall. Lean. Effortlessly elegant in a deep navy tuxedo and crisp white shirt, the top buttons undone just enough to toe the line between scandal and style. His sandy hair fell perfectly tousled over his forehead, and when he smiled at the woman introducing him to the governor’s wife, it was a smile that melted the air.
Callum Hartley.
She recognized the name before the face. British tech tycoon. Former Forbes "Billionaire to Watch." Developer of that AI-powered renewable grid platform making headlines. She’d seen him in articles, business magazines, and once on a panel about clean energy.
But nothing had prepared her for seeing him in person.
He looked up as if pulled by instinct—and locked eyes with her.
Sofia’s breath caught.
It wasn’t a lingering look. It was a lightning strike.
Callum excused himself from his conversation without breaking eye contact. Walked toward her. Straight through the crowd like it wasn’t even there. Like the room had narrowed and she was the only thing in it.
He stopped just close enough to make her heart skip.
“You’re going to ruin champagne for me,” he said, voice dipped in velvet British cadence.
Sofia blinked. “Excuse me?”
“Because now every flute I raise will be chasing the first one I saw you holding.”
She arched a brow. “That’s either the worst line I’ve ever heard—or the most confidently delivered.”
He grinned. “Both. But effective, I hope.”
She couldn’t help the curve of her lips. “Maybe.”
“I’m Callum,” he offered, holding out a hand.
“Sofia.”
He took her hand—not shook it, took it—and brushed a feather-light kiss against her knuckles. His touch was warm. Intentional. She felt it in her chest.
“I had a speech prepared, but that went out the window the second I saw you,” he said.
“You give speeches at galas often?”
“Only when I’m not stunned speechless.”
She tilted her head, amused. “Is that another line?”
“It’s not a good one, if that’s what you’re asking.” His smile softened, the charm dialed down just enough to feel sincere. “But I meant it.”
God help her, she believed him.
***
They ended up by the bar, not because they were avoiding the crowd, but because they’d stopped seeing it.
Callum had that rare gift of making everything feel private. Even in a room of two hundred.
He asked about her work, her passions, the reason she hated galas (she told him), and the city she most wanted to get lost in (Lisbon, oddly enough).
She asked about his company, his travels, and his recent donation to a green tech scholarship fund.
“What made you come tonight?” she finally asked.
He took a sip of his bourbon. “To be honest? I wasn’t planning to.”
“But?”
“My head of PR insisted. Said it would look good.”
“And do you always do what you’re told?”
He leaned in just a little. “Not usually. But… tonight, I’m glad I listened.”
Sofia looked at him. Really looked at him.
Callum Hartley was dangerous in a different way than Dominic. Where Dominic’s presence felt like a storm waiting to break, Callum felt like warm wind—seductive, smooth, and capable of carrying her off before she realized she’d left the ground.
She knew better than to get pulled into a man like this.
But God, she liked the sound of his voice.
The smell of his cologne.
The way he looked at her—not like she was a trophy, but like she was a story he wanted to read slowly.
***
“Would you dance with me?” he asked.
Sofia hesitated for the briefest moment.
Then nodded.
He took her hand like it was a delicate promise and led her to the dance floor. A live quartet played something soft, rich, and romantic. Callum placed his hand at the small of her back and drew her in close.
Her breath caught as their bodies touched.
“You move like you’ve done this before,” she said.
He smirked. “Ballroom dancing is a surprisingly useful boardroom skill.”
“You dance in boardrooms?”
“Only when I want to win.”
She laughed. “Do you always?”
“Not always,” he said, gaze intense now. “But tonight feels like a winning night.”
His hand tightened ever so slightly at her waist.
And she knew—if she let him—he could kiss her right here and the room would vanish.
But something made her step back. Gently. Just enough.
Callum noticed. Didn’t push.
“You’re taken,” he said softly, more observation than accusation.
Sofia hesitated. “Not exactly.”
His brow lifted. “Not exactly?”
“It’s complicated.”
Callum nodded, thoughtful. Then said, “I like complicated.”
***
They said goodnight under the glowing awning of the hotel entrance. A sleek black car waited at the curb. Callum opened the door but didn’t step in.
Instead, he looked at her one more time.
“I’d like to see you again, Sofia Reyes.”
She smiled, and for once, she didn’t try to hide the heat in it.
“I’d like that too.”
He paused, watching her. “Just say the word. I’ll be where you are.”
Then he got in.
And disappeared into the night.
***
Across the city, in a dim office high above Makati, Dominic Blackwell stood by his window, jaw clenched, phone in hand. A tab open. A photo on screen.
Sofia Reyes. In a gold dress.
Dancing.
With Callum Hartley.
Dominic stared at it.
And something sharp twisted in his chest.
He didn’t know what it was.
But he didn’t like it.
- Writer
