The Problem with Enzo

Chapter 13: Just Business

Hers...

“Ana, can I ask a favor?”

I glanced at the time on the corner of my screen—it was almost midnight here, early morning in California. Dr. Ashley was on Zoom, hair neatly tied, a mug of coffee in her hand. Even through the pixels, she looked both tired and sharp, the kind of woman who never lost her poise.

“Of course, Doc,” I said, straightening in my chair. “What’s up?”

“I need you to clear Thursday and Friday this week,” she said. “Not exactly leave, more like… take a break from your usual VA tasks. Think of it as a change of pace. You’ve been working nonstop since Cebu—you deserve to breathe a little.”

My brows furrowed. “So… a break, but with an errand?”

She smiled faintly. “Something like that.”

I tilted my head. “What kind of errand?”

“Just a minor handover,” Ashley said casually, scrolling on her screen like it was nothing. “There are some franchise-related documents that need to be signed. You’ll meet someone, hand over the folder, and make sure they sign. Simple.”

I jotted it down out of habit. “Alright. Who am I meeting?”

Her eyes flicked up to the camera, amused. “You don’t need the name. Just show your ID and say the reservation is under my name.

I paused, pen hovering over my notebook. “No names? No other details?” I asked carefully, because I’d been with her long enough to know when she was purposely keeping things vague.

Ashley’s lips curved. “You know me too well, Ana.”

I raised a brow, trying to sound casual. “It’s not illegal, right? I’m not about to become a courier for contraband?”

Ashley actually laughed, the sound warm through the speakers. “No, Ana. Nothing shady. Just boring paperwork. Promise.”

“Alright,” I said, still smiling. “Just making sure you’re not secretly running a cartel.”

“Not my style,” she teased back.

Family business. My stomach did a strange flip, and before I could stop myself, a thought slipped in. What if…?

What if this had something to do with him?

I hated myself for even thinking it. For weeks I’d trained my heart to stop waiting for a message that never came, to stop replaying that last night under the stars. And yet, here I was, gripping my pen a little too tightly, wondering if Ashley’s vague instructions were deliberate—if maybe, just maybe, she was sending me straight into Enzo’s orbit again.

The memory of his hand on my back, his voice low against my ear, came rushing in so vividly that I had to blink it away. Don’t be stupid, Ana. This was work. Just work.

And still… a small, traitorous spark lit up inside me, whispering the possibility I didn’t dare say out loud: What if fate isn’t done with us yet?

I cleared my throat. “So, um… I won’t happen to be meeting… Enzo, right?”

Ashley’s brows lifted, her grin slow and knowing. “Enzo? Why? Do you want him involved? Do you… miss him?”

Heat rushed to my cheeks. “What? No! I was just asking!” I waved my pen like it could erase the words hanging between us.

She chuckled softly, clearly enjoying my discomfort. “Relax, Ana. You’ll probably be meeting Nico.”

Just like that, the tiny flicker of hope I hadn’t even realized I was carrying snuffed itself out. I forced a smile. “Right. Nico. Got it.”

Ashley sipped her coffee, oblivious. “Consider this a mini-break, Ana. Do the handover, and the rest of the time is yours. You can treat it like a staycation.”

And that’s exactly what I did. After my call with Ashley, I opened our Bahite Gang group chat and started typing.

Ana: Guys, quick announcement. I might have to go to Manila this Thursday and Friday for work.

Pao: Omg work trip? Or secret date trip? Spill. 👀

Ana: WORK. 🙄 Promise. Just errands for Doc Ash.

Kaeli: …Which means? Reuniooooon! Jem and I are already here. Don’t waste the chance.

Jem: Megamall dinner. Non-negotiable.

Bhong: Agree. Karaoke after. Also non-negotiable.

Sharmaine: I’ll check with Rica. We can book a condo para sabay-sabay tayo.

Rica: ✅ Confirmed. I’m in.

Before I knew it, the thread exploded with logistics, teasing, and twenty memes about Pao’s “outfit options.”

We settled quickly: Lia and I would share one unit. Rica and Sharmaine took the one across. Naturally, Pao and Bhong demanded the unit right beside us—“para madaling maki-borrow ng snacks,” as Pao proudly declared. Kaeli and Jem volunteered to scout the best café nearby for coffee runs.

I leaned back from the screen, smiling at the flurry of messages. It already felt like a trip even before we booked anything.

Looking forward to was the noise of it all: Lia running ahead in the mall, Pao’s dramatic karaoke dares, Rica and Sharmaine laughing too loud at inside jokes, Kaeli bossing everyone around about dinner orders, and Bhong pretending to complain but still carrying everyone’s shopping bags.

That was the part that made my chest feel lighter.

Thursday wasn’t going to be about work. It was going to be about us — about finding those little pockets of joy, the kind only the Bahite Gang could give.

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His..

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Enzo’s heart pounded so hard it felt like it might choke him. Ana was coming. She was really coming.

He’d made sure of it himself — quietly asking Ashley to assign her the task. On paper, it was about business: the expansion of one of their family’s new franchise ventures in the Philippines. He’d volunteered to oversee it, insisted he’d handle logistics and operations.

But none of that mattered. None of it was why he was here.

The truth was simpler, far more dangerous. He just wanted to see her.

He tried to focus, sitting at the long table with Nico and the Filipino engineers, draft documents spread open before him. But the words blurred, unreadable. His fingers tapped restlessly against the polished wood, betraying his impatience. Nico noticed, but said nothing. He never needed to.

Every time the door opened, Enzo’s chest stuttered. His breath caught. His gaze whipped up like a fool waiting for something—someone. And then… there she was.

Ana.

The world shifted to make space for her the moment she stepped through the entrance.

Gone were the sunburnt tan lines, the salt, the beach sand. She was back in her city armor: a sleek black top tucked into blush high-waisted trousers, nude heels clicking softly with every step. Her hair framed her face in soft waves, her lips painted just enough to make his chest ache. Effortless. Stunning.

God, he missed her.

And then she looked up. Their eyes met. For the briefest second, he swore he saw something flicker in her gaze — surprise, maybe recognition. But just as quickly, it was gone.

She nodded. Polite. Distant. Like he was anyone. Like he was no one.

“Mister Lorentzo,” she said evenly, her voice smooth, controlled. “Hello everyone. Sorry to disturb your meal — I just need to drop off these documents.”

The words hit harder than they should have. Mister Lorentzo. Not Enzo. Not even a hint of warmth.

He forced a smile, stiff and hollow, as she approached. She handed him the folder — thick, important, utterly irrelevant to him. He didn’t even glance at its contents. All he could see was her.

But Ana gave him nothing. No falter in her voice, no hesitation in her steps. She was perfect. Professional. Cold as stone.

She turned slightly, scanning the table. “I was told to meet… Nico?” she asked. Her tone was polite, but he caught it—the searching, the way her gaze skimmed past him as though he were background noise.

Nico raised a hand, a calm smile tugging at his lips. “That would be me. But you can pass it to Enzo—my boss. He’ll be the one overseeing those docs, and I’ll just take care of… whatever he decides to dump on me.”

A couple of the engineers chuckled. Nico leaned back in his chair, deadpan. “Basically, I’m his glorified human sticky note.”

Ana’s brows lifted a fraction, surprise flickering before she let out the faintest laugh. Just a soft breath, but Enzo caught it. His chest tightened at the sound—because she hadn’t smiled at him, not once, but Nico got that.

“Understood,” she said, her composure quickly smoothing back into place.

One of the engineers leaned toward her, grinning like a fool. “Miss Ana, would you like to join us? We’ve got extra plates.”

Enzo’s jaw tightened. He hated the way the man looked at her — too familiar, too eager. Didn’t he see the way she kept her posture? The polite barrier she held between herself and the world? She wasn’t someone you cornered with idle small talk. She was someone you admired from a respectful distance.

“I appreciate it,” Ana replied softly, still perfectly poised, “but I’ll just wait at another table until the documents are signed.”

Business only. That was her shield. Always was.

But the i***t kept pressing. Gerald — the loud one, with neatly gelled hair and a polo shirt a size too tight for his gym-built arms — leaned forward, grinning like he was at some speed-dating event instead of a business lunch.

“C’mon, Miss Ana, join us for a while. What’s one extra plate, di ba? How long have you been working for Doc Ashley?”

Ana’s smile was polite, the kind she used when she didn’t want to be rude but was already regretting the conversation. “A while now.”

“A while?” Gerald chuckled. “Years? Months?”

Beside him, Mark — quieter, bespectacled, the kind who probably double-checked blueprints three times before bed — pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. His tone was more curious than flirty. “Do you work for the clinic only, Miss Ana? Or do you handle their other ventures too?”

Enzo’s jaw tightened. His pen tapped against the table, each click louder in his head. They were looking at her like she was on display, like she was just another pretty face with a neat résumé.

She wasn’t.

She was the woman who haunted his nights, the one who slipped through his fingers in Cebu and left him craving her like oxygen.

But here she was, answering their questions with that same careful, professional smile — while Enzo sat frozen, wanting to throw Gerald out the nearest window and tell Mark to stop cataloguing her like she was a damn business profile.

He snapped the folder shut, sharper than necessary. “Ana,” he said, his voice tighter than he meant, “I’ll handle everything from here. I’ll personally send it back to the US.”

Her gaze flicked to him, cool and composed. “Understood. Thank you, Mister Lorentzo.”

Mister. Again.

She offered the table a polite smile, excused herself, and walked away. No smile for him. No hesitation. No sign that he’d ever left a mark. She didn’t even look back.

The sound of her heels faded, each step like a nail in his chest.

Enzo sat frozen, staring down at the documents as if they were blank. Nico slid a pen across the table, his expression unreadable. Enzo’s hand trembled as he signed.

She had been right there. So close he could have reached out.

And yet somehow, he had never felt further from her.

Not just heartbroken. Invisible.