First Temptation: The Billionaire's Game

CHAPTER 8

TRUTH OR DARE – CASSANDRA POV

It started out innocent.

Isang late afternoon sa courtyard garden ng Madrigal estate. Sobrang init sa loob ng studio, at delay na naman ang power sa sewing room. Walang signal. Walang wi-fi. Walang kahit anong distraction.

So we did what any group of bored creatives would do when stranded without tech and surrounded by too many emotions—

We played a dangerous game.

“Truth or Dare!” sigaw ni Monique, sabay hila sa akin paupo sa picnic mat na sinet-up ni Yaya Tess.

Hindi siya basta-bastang assistant. She was Monique f*cking Madrigal—Xan’s sister, a fashion empire heiress in her own right, and the sharpest tongue in the building aside from her brother. Pero sa kabila ng fierce aura at designer heels, she had this way of making people feel… seen. Even me.

We were joined by Bea, the quirky kitchen assistant; Ronan, the surprisingly sarcastic family driver; and of course, Yaya Tess, na sumama lang para “magbantay,” pero kitang-kita mong siya rin ang pinakamasigasig tumawa.

“Baka may makarinig,” bulong ko habang sinisipsip ang iced tea na gawa ni Bea. “This feels illegal.”

“Don’t be such a politician’s daughter,” irap ni Monique, adjusting her oversized shades. “Relax, Cassie. No one here cares about your press value.”

“Fine,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Truth.”

“Boooring,” sabi niya, eyes sparkling. “Okay. Truth: Have you ever had a real orgasm?”

Muntik ko nang masamid ang iced tea ko.

“Monique!” I choked out.

“Answer the question, madam!” tawanan sila, habang ako’y halos lumubog sa hiya.

“Pass!” I laughed, palusot. “Next question, please!”

“Oh my god, that’s a no,” she said, dramatic gasp. “You poor thing.”

“Next!”

Umiikot ang laro. Tawa dito, asar doon. Si Ronan napaamin na minsan siyang kinilig sa guard sa kabilang bahay. Si Bea daw ay minsan na ring nagkulangot sa loob ng freezer. Si Yaya Tess? Umamin na first love niya raw si action star noong 80s.

Pero habang tumatagal ang laro…

May nag-iiba.

Yung energy.

Like something sharp was humming underneath all the jokes.

Then—

“Mukhang masaya rito.”

That voice.

That f*cking voice.

Lahat kami napatigil.

And when we turned—

There he was.

Xan.

Standing by the edge of the garden like he owned the f*cking sunlight. Crisp black shirt. Rolled sleeves. Hands in his pockets. Expression unreadable—but focused. Always focused.

“Sir Xan!” sigaw ni Bea, para siyang na-possess ng fangirl.

“Gusto n’yo sumali, sir?” tanong ni Ronan, half-joking, half-seryoso.

I straightened my spine. “He’s not going to play.”

“I might,” sagot ni Xan, cool as ever.

I raised an eyebrow. “You? Play a game that doesn’t involve contracts or power plays?”

“Depends on the dares,” he said, walking toward us.

My pulse jumped. No. Nope. Absolutely not.

He sat at the far end of the mat, right across from me. Legs crossed. Eyes locked.

And just like that—

The garden wasn’t ours anymore.

It was his.

“Your turn, Cassie,” sabi ni Monique, devilish smirk in place.

Napatingin ako sa kanya. “Monique—don’t.”

“Truth or dare?”

I glanced at Xan.

His face? Blank.

But something in his eyes… sparked.

“Dare,” I said before I could stop myself.

Monique didn’t even blink.

“I dare you… to dare him to kiss you.”

Ang tindi ng collective reaction.

Ronan choked on his juice.

Bea gasped.

Yaya Tess dropped her buko pandan.

“Monique?!” I shrieked.

“She dared you,” Monique shrugged, completely unbothered. “Game is game.”

And Xan?

Still. Watching.

“You heard the rules,” he said, calm, challenging. “Go on.”

My heart was slamming against my ribs. I should’ve said no. Should’ve backed out. Should’ve saved my pride.

But I didn’t.

I looked him straight in the eye.

“I dare you,” I said slowly, “to kiss me.”

The silence that followed?

Violent.

The kind of silence na parang may paparating na bagyo pero walang gustong umalis.

I thought he’d smirk. Maybe lean in. Maybe laugh.

But instead…

He stood up.

Walked around the mat.

Stopped right behind me.

My breath caught.

He leaned down, just enough for his lips to brush the shell of my ear.

His voice?

Velvet. Blistering. Soft like sin.

“You’re not ready.”

I froze.

Then he walked away.

No grand exit.

Just… retreat.

As if nothing happened.

As if he didn’t just strip my entire ego bare in front of the people I’d grown to laugh with.

I stood.

“Game’s over,” I muttered, walking fast toward the house. Leaving everything behind.

The laughter.

The iced tea.

The heat.

The dare.

The humiliation.

Naglalakad ako sa hallway ng mansion na parang may apoy sa talampakan ko.

But behind the sharp clack of my heels…

I was breaking.

Because he didn’t humiliate me.

He didn’t embarrass me.

He saw me.

He read me.

And he was right.

I wasn’t ready.

Not for him.

Not for that kind of fire.

Not for the version of myself na lumalabas lang kapag nandoon siya.

At mas lalong hindi pa ako handa sa mundong ginagalawan niya.

Pero f*ck—

Bakit siya kailangan maging ganon?

Bakit niya kailangang maging lalaki na kaya akong basahin sa isang tingin?

Pagpasok ko sa kwarto, binagsak ko ang sarili sa kama.

Tahimik.

Pero ang utak ko?

Sigawan.

"You’re not ready."

Tears rolled down my cheeks.

Not because I was heartbroken.

But because…

Deep down?

I didn’t want to be right.

And starting tonight?

I’d prove him wrong. Even if it meant burning myself to do it.

May kumatok sa pinto ko.

Once.

Then twice.

“Cassie,” boses ni Monique, muffled but calm.

“Go away,” sagot ko, nakayakap pa rin sa unan na amoy conditioner at disappointment.

“Open the damn door or I swear I’m picking the lock with a fork.”

“Try me.”

“Girl, you’re literally crying into a pillow you didn’t pay for.”

Napairap ako kahit alam kong hindi niya ‘ko kita. Classic Monique. Heartless-sounding but lowkey caring. Kung ibang tao ‘yon, baka sinampal ko na. Pero siya?

Siya lang ‘yung taong kahit nakakainis, gusto mong kausap kapag feeling mo wala nang matitira sa’yo.

Dahan-dahan akong bumangon, tinapik ang luha sa mata ko gamit ang tissue na wala nang nagagawa, then huminga nang malalim.

Pagbukas ko ng pinto—

Ayan siya.

Nakapambahay. Ponytail. No makeup. Bitbit ang Chippy, yakult, at isang maliit na hot compress na hugis unicorn.

“Peace offering,” sabi niya, sabay abot ng junk food. “And this lil’ unicorn para sa trust issues mo.”

Tiningnan ko lang siya.

“You think yakult and mythical heat therapy can fix humiliation?”

“Nope,” sagot niya, pasok agad sa loob like she owned the damn room. “But crying with flavor is better than crying without it.”

In fairness.

Napaupo siya sa gilid ng kama ko habang ako naman, bumalik sa unan, this time siniksik sa pagitan ng mga hita ko na parang barricade against feelings.

“Wanna talk about it?” tanong niya softly.

“Not really.”

“Sucks,” sabi niya, habang binubuksan ang chichirya. “Kasi I’m still gonna make you.”

Tahimik. Sobrang tahimik.

I hated how soft her voice turned. Parang biglang hindi na si Monique ‘yung kaharap ko kundi… isang taong alam talaga kung anong pakiramdam na mapahiya in front of the person you’re trying so hard not to need.

Finally, I said, “He made me feel like a stupid little girl.”

Monique crunched on a chip, then swallowed before answering.

“He didn’t make you feel that way. You felt that way. Kasi you still care what he thinks.”

“I don’t,” sagot ko, too fast, too loud, too obviously lying.

She gave me a look na parang sinasabi: b***h, I know better.

“Please,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Your poker face sucks.”

“Fine,” I muttered. “Maybe I do. But I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t want someone who keeps trying to psychoanalyze me like I’m his next thesis project.”

“Well, in fairness…” she shrugged, “you are kind of a high-maintenance hurricane.”

Despite myself, napatawa ako. Napangiti siya. A small win for her sarcasm and my pride.

“Pero hindi ka fragile,” dagdag niya, mas seryoso na. “And he knows that.”

Napalingon ako sa kanya. “So bakit niya ako iniwan doon? Bakit hindi na lang niya tinuloy?”

“Because kung ginawa niya ‘yon—kung hinalikan ka niya in front of everyone—it would’ve been about him. About proving a point. About winning.”

I blinked. That’s not what I expected to hear.

“But it wasn’t.”

“Exactly,” sabi niya. “He didn’t kiss you not because he didn’t want to…”

She paused.

“…but because maybe—for the first time—he wasn’t thinking about himself. He was thinking about you.”

Something cracked in me.

I wish she hadn’t said that.

Kasi mas madaling galit lang ang maramdaman ko. Mas madali kung villain lang siya. Pero ganitong klaseng vulnerability? ‘Yung feeling na maybe he actually respects me?

Mas mahirap ‘yon. Kasi hindi ko na alam kung sinasaktan ba ako o pinoprotektahan.

At mas lalo ko nang hindi alam kung ano ang dapat kong gawin.

Monique leaned back, legs crossed like she was giving her final TED Talk.

“You want him to want you?” she said.

I looked at her.

“Fine,” she continued. “Then be the girl who doesn’t need him to.”

Tumingin lang ako sa kanya. Tahimik.

“Did you just quote Tumblr circa 2012?” I asked, trying not to sniffle.

She smirked. “Gumagana pa rin. Evergreen wisdom.”

I burst out laughing, finally. As in real, messy, post-breakdown kind of tawa.

And she laughed with me.

For the first time since that garden disaster, I didn’t feel like a failure in designer heels.

Hindi ako okay.

But I wasn’t alone.

At least, hindi habang may Monique sa tabi ko.

Hinihingal na bumangon si Cassandra sa gitna ng gabi dahil napapanaginipan na naman nya si Alexander Madrigal.

For the third damn time this week.

At laging pareho ang kwento.

Laging siya.

Laging kami.

Laging… halikan.

In my dream, I’m standing at the edge of a balcony. Same one sa mansion. Maingay ang hangin, malamig ang gabi, pero ‘yung pakiramdam ko? Mainit. Mabigat.

May footsteps sa likod ko.

Hindi ko na kailangang lumingon. I knew.

Xan.

And when I turned, ayan na siya—nakatayo, all in black, shirt half-unbuttoned, eyes burning like they held every version of me I’ve been trying to hide.

He didn’t say anything.

He didn’t have to.

Lumapit siya. One step. Then another. Hanggang sa halos magdikit na ang katawan namin.

Nasa panaginip lang ako pero ‘yung heartbeat ko parang totoo.

Parang lalabas na sa dibdib ko.

I lifted my chin, tried to hold his stare. Pero ang hirap. Kasi ‘yung titig niya? Hindi lang bastang titig. Para siyang bumabasa ng kaluluwa—at walang parte sa’kin ang ligtas.

He reached out.

Dahan-dahan.

Hinaplos ang pisngi ko.

Mainit ang kamay niya. Rough pero maingat. Parang gusto niyang saktan lahat ng sumakit sa’kin—pero hindi ako isama.

Then—

He kissed me.

And oh God… that kiss.

Hindi siya gentle.

Hindi rin bastang wild.

It was deep. Consuming. Gut-wrenching. ‘Yung tipong halik na pinipigilan ka huminga pero ayaw mong tumigil. ‘Yung halik na parang kasalanan pero wala kang balak magsisi.

Napakapit ako sa leeg niya. Napaungol siya sa bibig ko. Gumanti ng halik na parang gusto niyang ipaalala kung sino siya at kung anong ginagawa niya sa katawan ko kahit sa panaginip lang.

His hands gripped my waist, pulled me closer.

I felt his breath, his weight, the press of his body—lahat.

Lahat ng pinipigilan naming dalawa habang gising kami…

Dito, sa panaginip kong ‘to…

Wala nang kontrol.

“You always run,” bulong niya, lips brushing my jaw.

“And you always follow,” sagot ko, hinahabol ang hininga.

“Because you never really want to get away,” he whispered, hand sliding up my spine.

And he kissed me again.

Harder.

Deeper.

Until all I could do was moan into his mouth, feel the world collapse around us, and hold on to the one man I swore I’d never need.

Then—

“Cassie...”

Bulong niya.

“Cassie... wake up.”

My eyes flew open.

Gasping.

Sheets tangled around my legs, katawan kong pawis na pawis kahit malamig ang aircon. Tumagilid ako sa kama, nagtaklob ng kumot, at sinubukang huminga nang normal.

It was a dream.

Panaginip lang.

Pero ang tanong?

Bakit ang totoo ng pakiramdam?

Bakit lasa ko pa ang halik niya sa labi ko?

Bakit hindi mawala sa balat ko ang init ng kamay niya?

Bakit sa panaginip ko lang siya hinahayaang hawakan ako ng buo?

At ang pinakamasakit?

Bakit ‘yung panaginip ang pinaka-honest na version namin…

…samantalang sa totoong buhay, puro pader at pride ang namamagitan?

Hindi ko alam kung kailan siya titigil sa panaginip ko.

Pero kung ganito parati?

Mas gusto ko na yatang hindi na magising.

ALEXANDER POV

The numbers made sense.

The strategy was sound.

The board was aligned.

And yet—

I couldn’t focus for sh*t.

Nasa Madrigal Innovations HQ ako sa BGC. Corner office. Floor-to-ceiling glass windows. Dual screens flashing updates from our Tokyo and Berlin operations. May dalawang scheduled video calls pa ako today, plus a classified pitch deck na dapat nire-review ko pa lang.

Pero wala.

Wala talaga.

Kasi kahit ilang graph pa ang tingnan ko, kahit ilang salita pa sa executive report ang basahin ko…

Ang laman pa rin ng utak ko?

Cassandra Villareal.

I’ve handled billion-dollar negotiations. I’ve dismantled companies in less than a week. I’ve made grown men cry sa boardroom just by saying “interesting” in a certain tone.

Pero bakit ‘yung babae na ‘yon—na mas stubborn pa sa AI glitch—ang hindi ko ma-predict?

I leaned back sa leather chair ko, loosened my tie, stared at the blinking cursor on the report in front of me.

She haunted me.

The way she rolled her eyes.

The way she challenged every word I said.

The way she looked that night—barefoot on the balcony, silk robe half open, moonlight kissing her skin like it had permission.

F*ck.

I stood up, walked toward the glass wall. City skyline, glowing. But nothing about it calmed me.

I hated this feeling.

This lack of control.

I’m not used to desire that lingers. Lust, yes. Attraction, sure. Pero ‘yung ganito? Na kahit wala siya sa room, parang naririnig ko pa rin ‘yung tawa niya? Parang naaamoy ko pa rin ‘yung coconut scent ng buhok niya?

Unacceptable.

My assistant knocked. “Sir, the Zurich call is ready.”

“I’m leaving,” sagot ko, picking up my coat.

She blinked. “Sir?”

“Reschedule the call. Move the audit. Freeze anything non-essential for 48 hours. I’ll take a chopper from the private pad.”

“Where to, sir?”

“Batangas.”

Hindi niya na kinailangan magtanong kung bakit.

BATANGAS

Pagkababa ko ng Chopper, hindi ako dumaan sa main entrance.

Ayoko ng anunsyo.

Ayoko ng tanong.

Ang gusto ko lang—makita siya.

Tahimik ang buong estate. Late afternoon. Banayad ang hangin, may kasamang amoy ng tela, plantsa, at kape—karaniwang hinalo sa creative chaos ng design room.

Diretso ako sa likod, sa side hallway na may shortcut papuntang studio. Alam kong ginagamit nina Monique ‘yon kapag ayaw nilang maistorbo habang nagtatrabaho.

Wala akong konkretong plano. Ni hindi ko alam kung bakit ako andito. Pero isang linggo na akong hindi mapakali. And the only thing that made sense?

Cassandra.

Pagdating ko sa glass door ng studio, hindi ko agad binuksan. Instead, I stood there quietly—watching from behind the thin curtain.

And then I saw her.

Si Cassie.

Nakadapa sa long table, concentrated habang may hawak na chalk at sinusukat ang laylayan ng isang silk slip dress. Nakalugay ang buhok niya, messy bun na halos sumuko na sa gravity, may tinta pa sa pisngi. Si Monique naman, nasa kabilang side, nagtatahi gamit ang portable machine.

Pareho silang nakatuon sa ginagawa nila. Tumatawa, nag-aargue tungkol sa tela, then babalik ulit sa trabaho.

Walang arte.

Walang ka-drama-drama.

Just… her. In her element.

And God—she looked like peace.

Biglang gumaang ang dibdib ko.

Yung stress mula sa buong linggo ng back-to-back meetings, media cover-ups, at investor headaches? Parang unti-unting nalusaw sa simpleng sulyap lang sa babaeng ‘yon—na ni hindi aware na andito ako.

Hindi ko siya kailangan kausapin.

Hindi ko kailangan magpakita.

Just seeing her, alive and driven and exactly as she is—was enough.

Parang isang bagay na nawawala sa loob ko, biglang bumalik sa lugar.

Tumayo lang ako ro’n, nanahimik.

At sa unang pagkakataon sa matagal na panahon…

Tumigil ang gulo sa isip ko.

If anyone asked why I really came back from Manila that fast?

I wouldn’t have the courage to tell the truth.

Na hindi negosyo ang habol ko.

Na hindi reports or strategy or real estate ang rason.

It was her.

Always her.