First Temptation: The Billionaire's Game

CHAPTER 9

ALEXANDER POV

Security monitor.

Dilim sa hallway. Tahimik ang buong estate.

But then—movement.

I narrowed my eyes as a figure appeared onscreen. Barefoot. Nakasuot lang ng robe. Hair loose. Hips swaying in that careless, sleepy kind of way.

Cassandra.

Sa CCTV monitor ng control room sa private wing, malinaw kong nakita ang paglalakad niya—mabagal, may pag-aalinlangan. Pero determinado. Nakita ko siyang huminto sa tapat ng pintuan ng opisina ko.

My office.

The one place I swore she’d never walk into.

I leaned forward. The drawer.

I forgot to lock the f*cking drawer.

“Cassie…” I muttered under my breath, bolting up from the chair.

But it was too late.

Click.

She was already inside.

CASSANDRA POV

It started with a locked door.

Laging nakasara. Laging off-limits.

Xan’s office.

And like anything na pinagbabawal… mas lalong nakaka-curious. Nakakasilip sa gilid ng pagnanasa at panganib—isang kombinasyong nakakabaliw kapag hindi mo na alam kung alin sa dalawa ang mas gusto mong danasin.

That night, I couldn’t sleep.

Masyadong tahimik ang mansion. Masyadong malakas ang pag-iwas naming dalawa sa isa’t isa.

And Monique? Knocked out sa kabilang kwarto, may yakap pang plushie at bukas ang t****k habang tulog.

So I walked barefoot down the dim hallway. Robe lang ang suot, tahimik ang bawat hakbang. Cold marble tiles beneath my feet. Parang may hinahatak sa akin—hindi curiosity, kundi… him.

Pagdating ko sa pinto ng opisina niya, huminto ako.

Pamilyar na kaba. Yung klase ng kabang hindi mo matukoy kung takot o tukso.

Nagdalawang-isip pa ‘ko, pero...

Click.

Unlocked?

I frowned. Either may nakalimot magsara, or fate was messing with me on purpose.

I turned the knob slowly and stepped in.

Madilim ang loob. Malamig. Amoy leather, kahoy, whiskey, at lalaking punung-puno ng sikreto.

The first thing I saw?

Books. Files. A decanter of scotch half-empty. Organized chaos—lahat halatang gamit pero hindi kalat. Controlled madness.

Pero ‘yung humila sa atensyon ko?

The mahogany desk near the far end.

May drawer na bahagyang bukas.

Dahan-dahan akong lumapit, heartbeat ticking louder with every step.

I pulled it open.

And inside…

A gun.

Silver. Sleek. Heavy-looking. Real.

Tumigil ang mundo ko saglit.

“Sh*t,” I whispered, taking a shaky step back. Para akong nanlamig mula ulo hanggang talampakan.

Then I saw the envelope beneath it. Thick. Worn out sa mga gilid.

I hesitated… pero curiosity won.

I opened it.

Photos.

Dozens of them.

Some of him.

Some of me.

Candids. Me at the campaign party. Me sa garden habang kausap si Yaya Tess. Me entering the mansion. Me laughing.

Private moments. Stolen moments.

Every angle. Every shadow. Sinundan ako ng mga matang hindi ko alam na nandoon.

And then—

A face.

Familiar.

Powerful.

Senator Raul Yulo.

Naka-suit siya, naka-smirk, parang kinunan sa isang exclusive event. May label sa likod ng photo, handwritten:

"YULO – confirmed. Project: Hades/Phase II."

I flipped to the next photo.

Marco.

Mas bata siya rito, pero walang duda. Siya ‘yon. My ex. The boy who gave me my first kiss.

He looked too serious for his age. May hawak siyang envelope. May kasama siyang dalawang matandang lalaki sa background—hindi ko kilala.

But the shocker?

May pula na X sa upper right corner ng picture niya.

My throat went dry.

One more photo.

Another man I didn’t recognize—this time may red mark sa buong mukha. And written under it:

“Deceased – March 8.”

My knees almost buckled.

What is this?

What the actual fck is this?!*

Then I heard it.

Click.

The sound of the door.

Mabilis akong lumingon—

Xan.

Standing at the doorway. His eyes on the drawer. Then the gun. Then me.

And in that split second, I knew—

I crossed a line I can’t uncross.

“Cassie,” he said slowly, voice low but sharp, like steel laced in velvet.

“Put the envelope down.”



Napako ang kamay ko sa ibabaw ng mesa, naninigas. Parang biglang naging bakal ang daliri ko. The air inside the office turned electric—thick, suffocating. Even the soft hum of the AC sounded deafening.

Hindi ko siya matingnan. Hindi ko kayang ilipat ang mata ko mula sa envelope, sa mga larawang hindi ko pa buo ang naiintindihan. Mga mukhang pamilyar, delikado, personal.

Hindi ko alam kung mas nanginginig ako dahil sa baril—o dahil sa boses niya. Parehong malamig. Parehong mapanganib.

Pero nang tumingin ako sa kanya—sa wakas—doon ko nakita.

Iba na ‘to.

Wala ‘yung maskara niya. Wala ‘yung “CEO calm.” Wala ‘yung usual charm na parang palaging alam niya ang susunod mong galaw bago mo pa maisip.

Ang mga mata niya ngayon?

Malalim. Matalim. Mabigat.

At para akong nilulunod.

For the first time since I met him...

Natakot ako.

“I just… the drawer was open,” I lied, weakly, voice barely more than a breath. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t lie to me.”

Mas mababa. Mas malamig. At mas totoo.

Naglakad siya papasok, and with a heavy click, he shut the door behind him.

Now it was just me, him… and all the things I wasn’t supposed to see.

My fingers slowly let go of the envelope. Para akong nawalan ng lakas. The silence between us stretched, thick like fog, yet crackling with something raw.

“I saw pictures,” bulong ko. “Of me. Of people I don’t know. What is this?”

He didn’t answer. Not with words.

Instead—nilapitan niya ako.

One slow, deliberate step at a time.

Parang predator. Walang ingay. Walang emosyon. Only intent.

Hanggang sa nasa harapan ko na siya. Towering. Intimidating. And unreadable.

"Who are you, really?" tanong ko, barely a whisper. "Because you sure as hell aren’t just a design mentor.”

His jaw flexed. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I figured.”

Nagkatinginan kami. Walang kumukurap.

“You carry a gun. You have photos of men with red X’s on their faces. And me—why are there pictures of me, Xan?”

He stared for a beat too long.

Then finally, he said it—his voice rough, final, deadly.

“Because you’re involved in things you don’t understand.”

My breath caught. My spine straightened. Parang binuhusan ako ng yelo.

“You’re dangerous.”

“And you’re playing with fire,” he added, voice low, almost… reverent.

My back hit the edge of the desk. He didn’t touch me, but his presence was already everywhere—his energy, his heat, his command.

One hand landed beside my waist—flat against the wood.

Trapping me. Cornering me.

But never quite touching. Not yet.

“You don’t know what kind of man you’re playing with, Cassie.”

His voice shook. Hindi sa takot, kundi sa pagpipigil. Like every muscle in his body was coiled—restraining himself from something he knew he couldn’t undo.

And in that moment…

I didn’t know if I wanted to run.

Or let him ruin me.

His body was so close I could feel it in the air—each rise and fall of his breath, every inch of tension in him bleeding into me.

Mainit ang hininga niya, kahit malamig ang silid. His hand, still pressed beside me, clenched into a fist—knuckles whitening.

And his eyes—those haunted, hungry eyes—never left mine.

“I told you,” he murmured, voice rough and sharp, “you don’t get to come in here.”

“You left the door open,” I whispered back, stupidly.

His laugh came out dark and hollow, a sound that crawled under my skin.

“You think that’s an excuse?”

Then—

Boom.

His other hand slammed the drawer shut.

I flinched.

But I didn’t move away.

I couldn't.

“Cassie,” he growled—voice thick with something primal—“do you even know what you’re touching?”

“I saw my pictures—”

“That’s not the question.”

“Then what is, Xan?” I whispered, voice trembling but firm. “What exactly am I stepping into? What exactly are you hiding?”

Silence.

Then—

His hand shot out.

He grabbed my wrist—not painfully, but with purpose. Then, in one swift, fluid motion, he turned me.

And I was bent over the desk.

His body pressed behind mine.

His hand on my lower back.

His breath scorching my neck.

"You think this is a game?” he hissed, voice venomous with frustration and fire.

I froze.

Heart hammering so hard, I thought he could hear it.

“No,” I breathed.

But my body—traitorous and trembling—was saying something else.

He leaned closer, lips barely brushing the shell of my ear.

“You’re too curious for your own good.”

“Then stop me,” I whispered.

He stilled. As if my words hit something dangerous inside him.

His hand slid up my spine—slowly, torturously slow—stopping at my shoulder, gripping it like he needed something to anchor himself.

“You don’t understand what I’m holding back.”

“Then don’t.”

Two words.

And they shattered whatever was left of his restraint.

He spun me back around.

Our bodies collided.

His arms slammed down on either side of me, caging me between him and the desk.

Breath to breath. Nose to nose. Pulse to pulse.

Still… he didn’t kiss me.

Because this wasn’t seduction.

This was war.

“You make me want to do things I swore I’d never do again,” he whispered.

And it wasn’t anger in his voice anymore.

It was anguish.

Desire.

Guilt.

And fear.

I stared into his eyes, expecting arrogance. Expecting rage.

But what I saw…

Was wreckage.

A man coming apart in front of me. Not because he didn’t want me—but because he did. Too much.

“You don’t know what kind of man you’re playing with.”

And the way he said it?

Low. Broken. Deadly.

Parang confession na hindi niya kayang i-take back.

“You think this is some twisted fairytale?” he rasped. “You sneak into places you don’t belong. You touch things you shouldn’t. You dare me like I won’t break you.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” I whispered.

He laughed softly—painfully. Almost bitter.

“I wish you were.”

And then…

He slammed his fist on the desk—right beside my hip.

The wood cracked.

I flinched.

But I still didn’t step away.

“I’ve broken people before, Cassie,” he said, voice like stone. “Not hearts. Not feelings. Lives. Careers. Families.”

His voice dropped even lower. Almost a whisper.

“I’ve buried secrets deeper than you’ve ever lived.”

He paused.

Then stared at me like I was something sacred and cursed at the same time.

“And you… you keep playing like you’re ready for me.”

I stared back, breathless. Overwhelmed. Obsessed.

But unyielding.

“I’m still not afraid.”

His mask cracked.

And for a moment… I saw the truth.

That he wanted me.

That he hated himself for it.

That he might destroy us both if he ever gave in.

And still… I didn’t move.

I wanted the danger.

I wanted the fire.

And maybe, deep down…

I wanted to burn with him.

XANDER’S POV

Tangina.

“Cassie,”

Every part of me screamed to kiss her. Right then. Right there.

Hell, devour her.

But I didn’t.

Because I knew myself.

If I started... I wouldn’t stop.

And she deserved better than being the girl I ruined just because I couldn’t control myself.

So I made a choice.

I tore myself away from her body.

Grabbed her wrist. Gently—but firm.

“Let’s go,” I muttered, my voice low, strained.

She blinked, confused. “Xan—”

But I didn’t let her speak.

I pulled her out of my office, out into the cold hallway. Her robe fluttered as she stumbled behind me.

And before she could say another word—

Click.

I locked the office door.

Not to protect the secrets inside.

But to protect her from what I would’ve done if I stayed one more second.

My hand gripped the doorknob hard, like it was the only thing anchoring me.

She stood beside me, breathing hard, waiting.

But I didn’t even look at her.

Because if I did—

If I caught even one more second of that face, those eyes, those parted lips...

I was going to kiss her.

And not the kind of kiss you take back.

The kind that changes everything.

The kind that starts a war neither of us is ready for.

So instead—

I turned my back.

Walked away.

Each step heavy. Every muscle screaming.

But I didn’t stop.

Because if I stayed?

I wouldn’t survive her.

And worse…

Neither would she.

CASSANDRA POV

Hinila niya ako palabas ng opisina.

Walang salita. Walang paliwanag.

Gumuhit sa balat ko ang init ng palad niya habang hawak niya ang pulso ko. Parang sinusunog ako ng katahimikan.

At bago pa man ako makapagsalita—

Click.

Nilock niya ang pinto sa likod namin. Buo. Matatag. Walang pag-aalinlangan.

Hindi ako agad gumalaw.

Hindi ko rin siya tiningnan. Ayokong makita kung gaano siya ka composed habang ako?

Wasak.

Hindi pa ako humihinga nang maayos.

Puso ko? Tumitibok pa rin ng parang may deadline.

Tumingin ako sa gilid niya. Akala ko may sasabihin siya. Na may babalikan siyang excuse. Joke. Kahit “Goodnight, Cassie.”

Pero wala.

Ang ginawa lang niya?

Tumalikod.

Lumakad palayo. Tulad ng lagi niyang ginagawa.

At ako?

Naiwan sa hallway. Nakayapak. Nakaroob. Nanginginig sa di ko maipaliwanag na halo ng hiya, init, at—mas nakakainis—pangungulila.

Parang akong sinampal.

Pero mas malala.

Kasi walang sumampal.

Walang humalik. Walang nangyari.

Pero bakit ang sakit?

Bakit parang mas masakit ‘yung halos—‘yung malapit na—kaysa sa wala?

Kaysa sa simpleng hindi mo alam kung ano’ng pakiramdam?

Alam ko na ngayon eh.

Alam ko na ang pakiramdam ng hininga niya sa balat ko.

Ng katawan niyang halos dumikit sa akin.

Ng boses niyang mababa, magaspang, at puno ng… something.

Desire? Galit? Takot?

Hindi ko alam.

Pero naramdaman ko.

At iyon ang problema.

Because now I’m stuck in this loop.

Stuck sa moment na hindi naman nangyari—pero hindi ko rin makalimutan.

Bakit ganito?

Bakit mas masakit yung hindi niya ako hinalikan kaysa kung ginawa niya?

Maybe because at least kung hinalikan niya ako, I’d know.

I'd know if it was real. If it was lust. If it was a mistake.

But this?

This silence? This almost?

It’s the kind that keeps you up at night wondering if you're the only one who felt it.

O kung imagination mo lang lahat.

Huminga ako nang malalim.

Kinagat ang loob ng pisngi.

Hindi ako iiyak.

Hindi na.

Dahil kahit hindi niya sinabi, kahit hindi niya ipinakita, I knew what he wanted.

He wanted to kiss me.

He wanted me.

But he chose not to.

And that choice?

Yun ang masakit.

Kasi hindi ako ang pinili niyang sundan. Hindi ako ang pinili niyang yakapin. Hindi ako ang pinili niyang halikan—kahit nandun na kami.

Kahit pwede na.

So maybe it’s time I stop waiting for the almosts.

Maybe it's time I start choosing myself over the silence he keeps leaving me in.

Pero kahit pa anong tapang ang ipilit ko sa dibdib ko...

I know one thing for sure.

Kung babalik siya…

...I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to walk away.

Hindi ako makatulog.

Pabalik-balik lang ako sa kama. Ilang beses ko nang ni-rearrange ang mga unan, binuksan ang bintana, sinarado ulit, binasa ang lips ko ng lip balm, pero wala.

Walang tulog na dumadapo sa mga mata kong ilang oras nang dilat.

Napapikit ako sandali, pero imbes na antok ang sumagi sa isip ko… siya.

Alexander.

G*damn it.

Bakit ganon?

Bakit kahit anong iwas, kahit gaano ko gustong isipin na delikado siya, na mali siya—mas lalo lang siyang sumisingit sa mga gabi ko?

Sa utak ko?

Sa balat ko?

Parang ang lakas ng memorya ng katawan ko. Kahit wala siya dito, ramdam ko pa rin ‘yung mainit niyang hininga sa batok ko kanina. ‘Yung boses niyang parang baritone na nakaka-shatter ng logic.

“You don’t understand what I’m holding back.”

Diyos ko.

Hindi ko alam kung matatakot ako o... maiinitan.

Humugot ako ng hangin at tinakpan ang mukha ng unan.

Pero kahit sa dilim ng kwarto, sa gitna ng katahimikan, naririnig ko ang sarili kong hininga na parang sumasabay sa kabog ng puso ko.

‘Di ako ganito dati.

‘Di ako ganito ka-sensitive.

‘Di ako ganito ka… weak pagdating sa lalaki.

Pero bakit siya?

Bakit si Xan?

Hindi kami bagay. Hindi kami dapat.

Pero every time magkalapit kami, parang may humihila sa’kin palapit. Parang hindi na ako makapigil.

Parang kahit buong utak ko nagsasabing “Stop.”

Yung katawan ko? Sigaw ng sigaw ng “More.”

I flipped over and stared at the ceiling.

Napapikit ako, pilit tinatanggal sa isip ang imahe ng mukha niya.

Pero bigla kong naalala ‘yung mga mata niya—madilim, intense. ‘Yung paraan ng pagtitig niya sa’kin kanina, parang kinakaladkad ako papasok sa mundo niyang hindi ko alam kung ikakasira ko o ikaka-buo ko.

And worse?

Gusto ko.

Gusto ko ‘yung panganib. Gusto ko ‘yung kaba.

Gusto ko siya—kahit pa alam kong sa bawat tingin niya, may tinatago.

At sa bawat iwas niya, mas lalo akong nahuhulog.

Bumangon ako, naglakad papunta sa bintana. Binuksan ko ng bahagya at sumandal sa malamig na frame.

Night breeze. Quiet shadows. And still… sa likod ng lahat ng ito, isang pangalan lang ang malinaw sa isip ko.

Xander.

And maybe...

Maybe hindi na lang siya nasa isip ko.

Maybe... he’s already inside my skin.

Kahit hindi niya ako hinalikan.

Kahit iniwan niya akong nakatayo doon.

Mas lalong nagmarka.

Kasi minsan, ‘di kailangan ng halik para masira ang isang gabi.

Minsan, isang almost lang… sapat na para hindi ka makatulog nang ilang araw.

At ngayong gabi?

Isa lang ang alam ko.

I’m screwed.

Because if this goes on...

Masisira ako sa lalaking hindi ko kayang pigilan.