The Problem with Enzo

Chapter 3: The Price of Presence

Hers...

Manila – Veloura Royale Hotel, Later That Afternoon

Dr. Ashley’s suite smelled faintly of citrus and eucalyptus—clean, soothing, and unmistakably expensive. Sunlight spilled through floor-to-ceiling windows, washing over a marble floor so polished it mirrored the sky. Plush armchairs in soft cream framed a glass coffee table topped with crystal tumblers, a silver fruit bowl, and a neat stack of monogrammed folders. A wall-to-wall bookshelf held a curated mix of medical journals and glossy travel books, while a gold-handled espresso machine gleamed beside a minibar stocked with bottled spring water and imported chocolates.

The city buzzed far below, but in here it felt like another world. Ana stepped inside, her tote bag heavier than usual—not with work, but with the weight of meeting her longtime client in person.

Ashley rose from the sofa with a quick, warm smile. “There you are. Come, sit.”

They settled on the plush sofa near the window, where sunlight softened through sheer curtains, casting a warm glow over the space. The table between them was a curated blend of luxury and work—monogrammed folders stacked beside freshly printed contracts, a crystal pen holder catching the light, and Ana’s neatly labeled notes arranged with quiet precision.

They dove into business without hesitation, the tabletop slowly becoming a map of upcoming campaigns and carefully plotted timelines. Ashley skimmed through each document with practiced ease, her smile widening as she flipped the last page.

“These are perfect, Ana. You’re saving my life with this project.”

“I’m just doing my job,” Ana replied, offering a modest shrug.

“No,” Ashley said, looking up from the papers, “you’re doing more than that.”

When the last contract was signed and the iPad put away, Ana reached into her tote and brought out a small brown box, cradling it in both hands like it was something delicate. “I brought you something,” she said, her smile shy but proud. “Kapeng Barako. From my hometown. Strong and a little stubborn—like you.”

Ashley laughed, pressing a hand to her chest. “That’s the best coffee intro I’ve ever heard.” She opened the box and inhaled deeply. “Oh, wow. This smells… real. Earthy. It’s been years since I’ve had coffee that didn’t come from some overpriced machine. This—this takes me back.”

She carried it to the minibar, setting it beside the espresso machine like it had earned a permanent place.

Ashley said, “Oh—by the way, if I don’t introduce them later, I’m here with some of my cousins. You’ll probably hear a few names thrown around—Enzo, Mica, Chris, Clarisse. Matt and Brent too—they’re not blood, but they’ve been family friends since we were kids.”

Ana nodded, trying to keep the names straight. She only really knew Ashley —the woman behind the voice who had been her client for more than 3 years now. Everyone else was a blur of surnames and quick glimpses in photos. Still, it was oddly comforting, this casual peek into Ashley ’s world. A reminder that even polished professionals had tangled family trees.

Their conversation wandered—Ashley sharing funny stories about her patients, then laughing softly as she described her daughter Kaeli’s dramatic tantrum over mismatched socks.

“I told her socks don’t need to match,” Ashley sighed. “She told me I don’t understand fashion.”

Ana snorted. “She’s got a point.”

Ana mentioned her friends Pao and Kaeli—emphatically not a couple—were watching Lia today. “They’re the best titos ever. They spoil her rotten.” She added that her mom still ran a sari-sari store back home, the same one she'd grown up behind, and the noise of Manila traffic still found its way into her dreams.

They laughed about the universal frustration of finding a taho vendor with the perfect arnibal-to-soybean ratio.

“You’d think someone would start a taho rating app,” Ashley said. “TahoMap or something.”

“I’d be the first to download,” Ana grinned.

Ashley reached for her water and leaned back with a soft sigh. “I can’t believe I’m thirty-nine and still single.”

Ana tilted her head. “You don’t see it.”

Ashley smirked, “Flattery noted. And I’m seeing someone… kind of. Long story.”

Ana didn’t pry. She just smiled, understanding all too well the weight behind words like a kind of long story.

Then came the name. Out of no where, i guess, Ashley mentioned his name.

“You haven’t met my cousin yet, have you?” Ashley asked, stretching her arms behind her head. “Enzo.”

Ana tilted her head. “The one who was late earlier? The guy in the gray polo shirt?”

Ashley grinned. “Yes, that’s him. The tall, sexy and handsome cousin of mine, sitting next to Mica. He’s my favorite. Big-hearted pain in the ass, but I love him. He’s been helping with the family businesses—hotels, investments, the whole empire. Doesn’t like the spotlight, though. He’s kind of a ghost in the public eye.”

Ana raised an eyebrow. “Sounds intimidating.”

Ashley smirked. “He can be. Not in a rude way—he’s actually super-friendly and approachable. Very respectful. But he has this... aura. Like he walks in a room and people instinctively sit straighter. Clean-cut, wholesome. Kind. But you just know he gets things done.”

Ana chuckled. “Then I’ll guard my coffee carefully.”

Eventually, Ana closed her laptop, stacked the signed pages together, and slid them neatly into her folder. The golden afternoon light had deepened to a warmer hue, stretching shadows across the marble floor. Somewhere beyond the suite’s double doors, muffled voices and the faint clink of cutlery hinted at life gathering elsewhere.

“Alright, everything you need is here,” she said, rising to her feet. “I should get going. You probably have a full evening ahead, and I don’t want to intrude.”

Ashley glanced at the clock—5:30 p.m.—then back at Ana with mock offense. “Oh, come on. It’s practically dinner,” she said, waving a hand. “You’ve been working all afternoon—just stay for a couple more hours. Eat with us. It’s casual, promise.”

Ana hesitated. “I don’t want to overstep…”

“Nonsense. You’ve earned a meal and then some. Plus, my cousins would love to meet the woman who has her life together better than I do.” Ashley winked.

Ana laughed quietly but stood another moment, weighing it. Her stomach was definitely voting yes.

“Okay. Just for dinner,” she said finally, setting her bag back down.

“Good. I’ll make sure you try the lechon belly. And the cheesecake—oh my God, the cheesecake.”

______๑♡⁠๑______Later that Evening – Veloura Royale Rooftop______๑♡⁠๑______

▶︎•၊၊||၊|။||||။၊|။• Come Away With Me – Norah Jones

▶︎•၊၊||၊|။||||။၊|။• The Nearness of You - Ella Fitzgerald & Louis Armstrong

Hers...

The sky above Manila was just beginning to blush with twilight, painting the horizon in shades of gold, lavender, and a shy pink. From the rooftop of the Veloura Royale, everything shimmered—string lights strung between steel beams swayed lazily in the warm breeze.

The buffet stretched like a promise under glowing lamps, silver-chafing dishes releasing fragrant curls of steam—lechon belly, garlic rice, roast beef, trays of fresh seafood. Somewhere in the background, a mellow jazz instrumental floated from hidden speakers, lending the rooftop a laid-back elegance that didn’t try too hard.

Ana stepped out and paused, her breath catching the view. Below her, the city glimmered—alive yet distant—a far cry from the noisy, exhaust-choked streets she knew too well. This quiet beauty felt rare, almost borrowed.

If Lia were here…

Her daughter would have gasped at the twinkling lights, pointed at the painted sky, laughed at the idea of “eating with the stars so close.” Ana’s chest tightened. Lia wasn’t here. Another small ache she folded away like she always did.

I want to go home now, she whispered inwardly.

She tightened her grip on her clutch and moved toward the buffet—until a voice came from just beside her. Smooth. Low. Calm. Foreign.

“You should try the roast beef,” he said. "...And the scalloped potatoes. Comfort food never betrays you.”

She turned.

Enzo.

Up close, he was worse for her nerves—tall enough to eclipse the skyline, easily six-foot-three, while she barely skimmed five-foot-four in her modest heels. His gray polo fit like it had been made for him; his sleeves rolled just enough to reveal strong, sun-warmed forearms. Broad chest. Balanced shoulders. A build that spoke more of discipline than vanity.

Then there were his eyes—gray with a hint of steel, steady under assertive brows. His face was all clean lines: a precise nose, a jaw carved in quiet authority, and a mouth… infuriatingly well-shaped.

Tantalizing. That was the word.

Still, she kept her face unreadable—practice made perfect.

“I was going to start with vegetables,” Ana said, her chin tilting just slightly.

Enzo’s mouth curved. “Start with something that hugs you from the inside. Roast beef doesn’t judge. Broccoli does.”

Ana blinked. Did he just… give food philosophy?

He wasn’t pushy, but he was there—fully present, watching her like she was a puzzle he intended to solve.

She reached for the serving spoon, only to feel his gaze again—not heavy, not possessive, just… searching.

Then, as casually as someone offered an extra bread roll, he said, “Come with us. We’re flying to Cebu and Siargao next week. Just for fun. You’d be perfect to join the trip.”

Ana’s hand stilled mid-air. “Sorry?”

“I’ll pay you ten times what Ashley pays you for a week,” Enzo added, tone light but eyes serious. “You won’t even have to plan anything. Just come.”

She stared at him, her expression calm but her mind sharpening.

Add something to the trip?

What did that mean? Did he think she was the “easygoing” type? Or worse—easy? Did he expect her to be some kind of… decorative company?

A quiet line drew itself in her mind.

“Sir, I’m not an expert on tourist itineraries,” she said evenly. "...And I’m sure many tour guides—very experienced and probably thrilled—would be happy to assist your group. Whether they’re men… or women.”

The emphasis was deliberate. Not cruel. Just clear.

She was not for sale. Not even for ten times the price.

Enzo chuckled—not offended, if anything more intrigued—while Ana excused herself toward the drinks table, her movements calm and measured.

His...

He watched her go, her grace deliberate, her composure intact. Untouchable.

What the hell was that?

He leaned back against the railing, one hand cradling his glass, the other still half-curled from the absurd offer he’d just made. Ten times Ashley’s rate? For what?

For Ana to spend a week with them island-hopping? He wasn’t drunk. He wasn’t careless. And yet the words had slipped out like they’d been waiting for an opening.

It didn’t make sense.

He had met hundreds of women—elegant, model-thin, brilliant, magnetic. He’d danced with heiresses in Monaco, traded banter with diplomats’ daughters in Washington, once had dinner in Stockholm with a film star who spoke in poetry and tasted like strawberries.

But Ana was… different. Quiet in a way that drew you closer. Unaffected by the weight of his presence. Simple—though not plain—in a way that was maddeningly rare. She didn’t try to charm. She didn’t angle for attention. She was uninterested in being wanted.

And yet—he wanted.

Badly.

He exhaled, gaze sweeping over the rooftop. Lights above swayed in the breeze, their glow soft against the indigo sky. Below, Manila stretched in mismatched layers—old rooftops and steel towers, rust and glass, noise and nostalgia.

Was this what people meant by love at first sight?

He didn’t know. Maybe. But he believed in love—had seen it up close. His grandparents are holding hands after seven decades. His parents dancing barefoot in the kitchen after long trips apart. His aunt and uncle, building and rebuilding, never letting go.

The memory of Cecilia rose unbidden—Cecilia with her warm laugh and cold goodbyes. Enzo loved her ambition, not her silence. Admired the woman on paper, not the girl who curled in when life turned raw. He had pictured forever; she had planned a season.

It had left a crack in him.

So why Ana? Why now?

They’d shared only a few glances, a scattering of words—and yet he was already watching her with the uneasy conviction that she might be the one person he couldn’t let pass him by.

The city below buzzed on, unaware. But Enzo… Enzo knew. He had just met a woman who could silence a room by simply breathing—

And he wasn’t sure he’d ever want to walk away from that sound.