EIGHT
1461 Words
“Are you sure he lives here?”
My brows arched as I looked outside the car. My eyebrows lifted even higher the moment I saw Dwayne’s house.
“Yes, Mamang Ichi. That’s where Nellie’s future husband lives. I literally saw him enter that house last night when I dropped her off,” Isaac replied.
“So the young man is really wealthy,” Mamang Ichi commented, still staring at Dwayne’s house in awe.
He’s really… rich. No wonder he dresses and moves like someone who has money.
I just shrugged before opening the car door.
“Where are you going?” Mamang Ichi asked.
I rolled my eyes unconsciously. “To his house, Mamang Ichi,” I answered plainly.
I didn’t wait for her reply and stepped out, carrying the brown envelope. My lips twisted when I saw that the gate was locked.
I pressed the doorbell repeatedly with growing irritation. Why is this man taking so long?! It’s already six! Is he seriously not awake yet?
After several rings, the front door finally swung open. My brows immediately rose when Dwayne appeared—disheveled hair, pajamas, a loose tank top, rubbing his eye like he had just woken up.
He looks… hot.
I glanced at the car and caught Isaac and Mamang Ichi fangirling like teenagers. Disgusting. I shot them a death glare but Isaac only winked. Yuck.
“Don’t get down! I’ll get him myself,” I snapped, giving them another glare before turning back to Dwayne.
“Hey! Open this!” I barked.
He scrambled toward the gate, fumbling to unlock it. I rolled my eyes and stepped inside.
“You’re really early,” he commented.
I scoffed. “It’s already six in the morning, Dwayne. That’s late.”
“Huh? It’s still early…” I heard him mumble behind me, but I ignored him and walked inside his house.
I glanced back... he looked like a lost kid trailing after me. I raised a brow. This guy is strange. He looks like a bad boy but acts so… innocent.
The second I entered, my brows shot up again.
“Are you sure you live alone? You’re not bringing girls here, right?”
“I’m always alone. I don’t bring girls home,” he groaned.
I nodded. “Me too.”
“You don’t bring girls home?” he asked, confused.
I glared at him. “I meant I don’t bring boys home.”
I looked around. His house was huge—too huge for one guy.
“What’s that?” he suddenly asked, nodding toward the envelope.
“Ah. Our marriage contract,” I said casually.
“What?!”
I stepped back when he practically yelled.
“I said, our marriage contract,” I repeated, annoyed.
“You got one made already?” he asked like he couldn’t believe it.
I sighed loudly and handed him the envelope. “Here. Check it. I haven’t looked at it yet.”
He opened it and took out the document, reading it carefully. His brows furrowed.
“Is there a problem? Did they misspell anything? I paid twenty thousand for tha—”
“Nellie Ongpauco Fontanilla.”
My brows straightened in confusion. “What’s wrong with my name?”
He flashed a playful smile—one that made my brows pull tighter. “You didn’t notice?”
“Notice what?”
“My surname fits your name very well.”
My lips parted. Oh, that.
“Nellie Fontanilla, huh? Not bad. We sound like siblings,” I said casually with a yawn.
He groaned. “You’re really weird.”
“Excuse me? You’re weirder than me.”
“No. You’re weird. Who says we sound like siblings? As far as I know, we’re married now.”
I paused at that. I crossed my arms and smirked. “So you’re agreeing now?”
He sighed. “How am I supposed to disagree when you already made the contract?”
I shrugged. “Exactly. I made it so you’d have no choice.”
He shook his head at me and went back to reading.
“So you’re my husband now?” I asked.
He looked up. “Why?”
I smiled sweetly. “Prepare yourself because we’re going to Batangas to meet my beloved grandfather.”
His jaw dropped. “N-Now?”
I nodded. “Yes, now. Hurry—we’re leaving in twenty minutes.”
“Why so soon?”
“Because I said so,” I answered, rolling my eyes.
“But—”
“No buts. Move. Nineteen minutes left.”
He groaned and ran up the stairs. I sat on the sofa and checked my watch, yawning. Too slow.
“Hey! Should I bring clothes?” he yelled from upstairs.
“No need! We’re coming back to Manila tomorrow!” I shouted back.
“Should I dress formally?”
I sighed for the millionth time. “Wear whatever you want!”
Five minutes passed. I got impatient and went upstairs. His house was enormous.
I walked down the hallway and spotted one door that wasn’t beige like the rest but dark wood. That must be his room.
I smirked and turned the knob—it wasn’t locked. Figures.
“Hey!” he yelled as I barged in. He spun around, pulling up his jeans.
“Drama king,” I muttered loud enough for him to hear.
I explored his room. Very masculine, monochrome, spacious. Simple but expensive-looking.
I sat on his bed and watched him button up his shirt. I bit my lip.
No wonder women at the bar stared at him.
“Why are you staring at me like that?”
“You look hot,” I said bluntly.
He chuckled. “Are you not shy, or are you just naturally straightforward?”
I shrugged. “Why would I be shy? Are you shy around me?”
“Damn,” he muttered, speeding up his buttons.
I stood and walked toward him. He froze.
“What… are you doing?”
Instead of answering, I pulled him close and fixed his shirt.
“It’s too early for naughty things, little woman,” he teased.
I laughed. “You’re hilarious. You just buttoned this wrong.”
He blinked. I shook my head and continued.
“I guess you really are shy and anxious around me. Am I intimidating?”
“You’re just… really straightforward and… liberated,” he admitted carefully.
“True. But I change when I’m in the province,” I said.
“What do you mean?”
“You’ll see.”
I kept fixing his shirt.
“Why do you have so many rooms if you live alone?” I asked.
“They’re for my future family. But for now, my brothers use them whenever they stay over.”
“Only your brothers?”
“Sometimes Layla or Ivy.”
My brows drew together. “Which one is your girlfriend?”
He looked horrified. “Layla is my brother’s girlfriend and Ivy is like my little sister. She’s in college—way younger than my youngest brother.”
I raised a brow. “How would I know?”
“And I told you I don’t have a girlfriend. Do you think I’d agree to this arrangement if I had one? I don’t cheat, Nellie.”
I just shrugged. Why is he so pressed about cheating? Did his ex cheat on him?
When I finished buttoning him up, he turned around and fixed his hair—classic push-up hairstyle.
“Is your grandfather okay with piercings?” he asked.
“He won’t mind. Keep it.”
He put on his earring, and I let him be. One fake thing in my life is enough.
He went to his drawer for perfume and sprayed it on himself.
“Can you put some on me? I forgot mine in the province,” I asked.
He turned and sprayed me too. Even his perfume smelled expensive.
“Done?”
I nodded.
“Let’s go,” I said impatiently.
He checked himself in the mirror, then followed me. On the way down, he kept switching off lights. Every. Single. One.
We finally reached the living room. I grabbed the envelope.
“Lock your doors,” I reminded him before heading out.
He followed, locked everything, and we got in the car.
“Took you long enough,” Isaac complained.
“Whatever.”
“You two shared perfume?” Mamang Ichi teased.
“I forgot mine,” I said and leaned back.
“Ready to go?” Isaac asked.
I nodded.
I nudged Dwayne. He looked at me.
“Ready?” I mouthed.
He nodded.
I exhaled deeply.
Mrs. Fontanilla, huh?
I smirked.
Let’s see how good my acting skills really are.
- Writer
