Hospitality Man Series I: His Babymaker Client (ENGLISH VERSION)

CHAPTER 13

Pervince’s POV

I ARRIVED at the Blue Generations Hotel and Restaurant at exactly 7:55 AM. Standing on the restaurant’s balcony, I kept my eyes peeled for Ms. Saphire. I refused to let her wait for me—it would be embarrassing to keep a famous model waiting.

Dressed in fitted slacks and a crisp white polo shirt with the first three buttons undone, I felt appropriately put together. My gold necklace—a gift from my grandfather—rested against my chest, while a matching bracelet adorned my wrist. I had styled my hair with Gatsby, giving it a sleek, wet look that made me appear as if I had just stepped out of the shower. I figured I had to make an effort—I was meeting a model, after all.

A small pang of worry crept into my thoughts. What if people recognized her? A crowd might swarm us, and I’d be caught in the chaos. I shook the thought away, hoping it wouldn’t come to that.

Three minutes later, she arrived in a sleek Ford, further emphasizing her wealth. A twinge of regret surfaced—if I hadn’t left home, I might have been the one picking her up in my own car. Then again, if I hadn’t run away, I wouldn’t have ended up as a stripper, and she wouldn’t have hired me in the first place. Life had its ironies.

“Hi,” she greeted me with a radiant smile.

She was dressed in a knee-length number, hugging her figure in all the right places. Her hair, which had been straight the night before, now cascaded in soft curls, adding to her allure. She paired her outfit with heels and carried a gold purse. A headpiece covered part of her hair, making her less recognizable—but only if you didn’t look closely enough.

“Hey,” I replied, flashing a grin of my own.

“Have you been waiting long?”

“Not really. I just got here,” I assured her.

“So, shall we head inside?” she asked.

I nodded and followed her in. We were escorted to the high-class section, which was perfectly fine with me. I didn’t mind covering the bill—not when I was dining with Ms. Saphire herself.

Just as we settled into our seats, a waiter approached us.

“Good morning, sir, ma’am. Before I take your orders, I’d like to inform you of our exclusive promo at BG Hotel and Restaurant. Since you’re our last customers for the morning, you’re eligible for a complimentary hotel stay. You can use it at any time today,” he said, handing me a coupon.

I blinked. We were the last customers? Apparently, all the rooms had been pre-booked last night, given the holiday season rush.

Saphire and I exchanged glances. I twirled the coupon between my fingers before smirking. “Well, this is unfortunate. Looks like we won’t be able to use this,” I mused.

She blushed but said nothing.

After placing our orders, she got straight to business. “I need to go over every detail of the contract with you.”

I leaned back, feigning contemplation. “Shouldn’t we discuss this in a more private setting? Someone might overhear us. You know how people are—I don’t want unnecessary attention on us, especially on you.”

She hesitated before nodding. “What about our meal?”

“We can ask the waiter to bring it up to our room,” I suggested.

She agreed, and a few minutes later, the waiter returned with our orders.

“Sir, ma’am, here are your meals,” he said as he placed the dishes on the table.

“We’d like to use the complimentary stay,” I told him. “Could you have our food delivered to our room instead?”

“Of course, sir.”

He led the way to the elevators, pushing the cart with our meals as we rode up to the fifteenth floor.

“To which room, sir?” he asked.

“The one at the corner,” I replied, noticing that Saphire left the decision up to me.

Once we reached the suite, the waiter swiped his access card, allowing us inside. He placed our orders in the room before exiting, leaving us alone.

The room was bright and spacious, with a cozy living area near the floor-to-ceiling windows and a neatly made king-sized bed at the far end.

“Do you want to eat first before we start?” I asked, watching as she removed her headpiece. With nothing hiding her now, her beauty was on full display, and it was breathtaking.

“No, I just ate before coming here. You go ahead if you’re hungry,” she replied, smiling.

“I’m good,” I said, settling onto the couch across from her. “Shall we begin?”

She nodded and pulled a folded document from her purse. “Alright, first clause. ‘The Partner agrees to abstain from engaging in any other s****l relations for the duration of this Contract. This is to ensure the health and well-being of both parties and to maintain clarity regarding conception.’”

I raised a brow. “So I’m not allowed to sleep with anyone else while bound by this agreement?”

“Correct. It’s to prevent the risk of contracting anything from other women you might… engage with,” she clarified.

I smirked. “What if I want to use protection?” I teased.

She gave me an amused look. “I’m afraid that’s not allowed either.”

I let out a dramatic sigh. “That’s a bit unfair.”

“You’ve already signed, so you have to comply,” she said playfully.

I leaned in slightly, my voice dropping to a husky whisper. “It’s not like I can just use you whenever I want.”

Her cheeks burned a deeper shade of red. “Shhh… I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” she muttered, looking away.

I chuckled, enjoying her reaction.

She cleared her throat before continuing. “Clause 1.2: ‘Prior to engaging in the agreed-upon act, the Partner shall undergo a comprehensive medical examination to confirm good health and the absence of any sexually transmitted infections or diseases.’”

I arched a brow. “Do I really need to do that?”

“Yes. I need assurance that you’re clean and healthy,” she stated firmly.

I shrugged. “I don’t think that’s necessary.”

“I just want to be sure,” she insisted.

A slow, mischievous grin spread across my lips. “You really want to be sure?”

“Yes.” Her answer was immediate.

Without breaking eye contact, I stood and reached for the button of my slacks.

Her eyes widened in alarm. “What are you doing?”

“I’ll show you, so you’ll believe I’m clean,” I said casually.

Her hands flew to her face as she turned away. “Please, no—don’t do that.”

I chuckled. She was genuinely flustered, but she wasn’t furious. Interesting.

“Tsk. You’ll have to see it eventually,” I murmured.

At that, she glanced back at me, her expression unreadable. Then, much to my amusement, she simply gave a small, knowing smile. “Go on, then.”

“1.3 The Partner agrees to refrain from smoking, alcohol consumption, and any form of substance abuse for the duration of the contract.,” she read aloud, her eyes lifting to meet mine. “This might be an issue.”

“And why is that?” I asked, feigning curiosity.

She seemed surprised by my question. “You don’t drink? Or smoke?”

“No,” I replied simply, leaning back. “I have no desire to die young.”

Her expression softened, seemingly convinced. She nodded and continued reading.

“1.4 The Partner must not have any personal or legal obligations (e.g., ongoing relationships, undisclosed dependents) that may interfere with the execution of this agreement.”

“That’s not an issue. I’m single,” I said confidently.

She raised a skeptical brow. “I don’t believe you.”

I chuckled. “Why not?”

“A man as handsome as you? I’d expect you to be juggling at least ten women at a time.”

I grinned at her words, taking them as the compliment they were. “Well, I suppose I’m an exception.”

“Impossible,” she murmured, unconvinced.

“Then by all means, continue believing that,” I teased, flashing another smile.

“1.5 The Partner warrants that they are free from any known sexually transmitted diseases before and during the contractual period.”

“I’ve never had any STDs,” I stated honestly.

She studied me for a moment before nodding. “Alright, I’ll take your word for it. Otherwise, I’m afraid of what you might do next to prove it.”

I laughed at her remark. She still hadn’t gotten over my earlier stunt.

“1.6 The Partner shall maintain proper personal hygiene for at least one week prior to the agreed-upon engagement date,” she continued, pausing before adding with a smirk, “I don’t think that’ll be an issue for you. You’re quite well-kept.”

I smiled in return.

“1.7 The Partner shall not interfere in the Client’s personal life, whether by inquiry, involvement, or any other means.”

“What does that mean, exactly?” I asked.

She tilted her head slightly. “It means you don’t ask about my personal life. You don’t meddle. Unless, of course, I decide to share something with you.”

Her words were firm, but her smile was gentle. That damn smile. Every time she looked at me like that, I felt a familiar heat coil in my gut.

“And what about your physical life?” I asked, my voice taking on a more teasing edge.

She blushed instantly. “I didn’t hear that,” she muttered, looking away.

I chuckled again. She was far too easy to rile up.

“s*x bet,” she continued, clearing her throat. “Both parties acknowledge that any physical interaction under this Contract must be fully consensual. If either party is unwilling at any given time, no physical engagement shall take place.”

“You mean if you’re not in the mood, then I can’t have you?”

“Yes,” she affirmed.

“But aren’t you ever...persuaded?” I teased, watching as her cheeks turned a deeper shade of pink.

“No,” she said stubbornly, her gaze fixed on the paper in front of her.

I leaned in, closing the distance between us. She instinctively tried to lean back, but she was already against the couch, leaving her trapped beneath my gaze. I could feel her warm breath ghosting over my lips, the scent of her intoxicating.

“Did you know that no one ever says no to me?” I murmured, letting my voice drop to a low, commanding timbre.

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. “T-That’s not true,” she whispered.

I leaned in even further, about to brush my lips against hers—

“Gkfjsjfkfjbk!”

She abruptly shoved the contract between us, using it as a makeshift barrier. I chuckled at her reaction, amused.

“Please, behave yourself,” she chided. “We still have more to discuss.”

“Fine,” I relented with a smirk, sitting back. “I’ll save the rest for later.”

She shifted in her seat, clearly flustered but trying to compose herself.

“Payment,” she continued. “The total compensation for the Partner shall be Seven Million Pesos (₱7,000,000.00), payable upon confirmation of pregnancy by a licensed obstetrician-gynecologist (OB-GYN). 20% of the total payment shall be allocated to the Partner’s designated manager or representative. If the Partner voluntarily withdraws from the agreement before conception occurs or before pregnancy is confirmed, no compensation shall be provided. If the Partner withdraws from the Contract before its completion, it will be considered an automatic termination, and no payment shall be rendered.”

I whistled. “That’s a lot of money.”

“It’s fair,” she replied.

“No, I mean, you’re paying me for my time and...well, for my sperm. That’s all you need from me, and seven million seems excessive.”

She lifted a brow. “You’ve already signed the contract. There’s no room for argument.”

I sighed, shaking my head. “Well, I don’t have a manager, so that twenty percent is meaningless.”

“Then you get to keep the entire sum,” she said with a small smile.

She went on to explain that the payment would only be released once her pregnancy was confirmed. That was fair enough.

“Termination,” she read aloud. “This Contract remains in effect until the successful confirmation of pregnancy or until terminated by either party under the provisions stated herein. The Client may terminate this Contract immediately should the Partner violate any of the agreed terms. If the Partner withdraws after the act has been completed but before pregnancy is confirmed, the payment remains forfeited.”

“So, in other words, I have to see this through to the end?” I asked.

She nodded.

“POST-CONTRACT AGREEMENT. Upon completion of this Contract, both parties agree that no further obligations or commitments exist beyond what is explicitly stated herein. This arrangement is strictly no-strings-attached, and neither party shall establish claims, emotional entanglements, or legal actions regarding the engagement. Both parties may choose to remain amicable post-contract but acknowledge that the engagement holds no personal or legal implications beyond its intended purpose.”

I raised a brow. “So, we can be friends?”

“Of course,” she said easily. “Why not?”

“And what if I want to be something more?” I pressed.

She visibly stiffened, her lips parting slightly. After a beat, she said, “Then you’ll have to risk that on your own.”

I smirked at her answer. Interesting.

“So, about the date,” she said, quickly changing the subject. She stood up and walked toward me, holding out a small planner. As she leaned forward to show me, her chest came dangerously close to my face. But, as if anticipating my gaze, she covered herself with her free hand, blocking my view.

The chosen date was a week away. I frowned slightly, feeling a twinge of disappointment.

But what was even more disappointing? The fact that she had the foresight to block my view.

Without warning, I grabbed her wrist and pulled her down to sit beside me. Her eyes widened in shock.

“W-What are you doing?” she stammered.

I smirked. “I told you earlier, didn’t I? That I’d continue what I started later.”

I caught both of her wrists, gently pinning them at shoulder level. Standing, I leaned down toward her, inching closer. Her lips parted slightly, and I could see the light sheen of sweat forming on her skin.

Half an inch. That was all that separated us.

And then—