Chapter 6: Terms of Peace
1591 Words
Morning arrived at the Monteverde estate wrapped in golden sunlight and birdsong.
The ancestral house stirred early.
Servants moved through hallways carrying fresh flowers while gardeners prepared the grounds for Don Alejandro’s birthday celebration. The scent of brewed coffee and damp earth drifted through open windows.
Lola had been awake since dawn.
She preferred mornings before the house became crowded with voices and obligations.
The estate’s eastern office overlooked the fields, and she sat there now reviewing shipment reports from Pampanga.
Numbers steadied her.
They obeyed logic.
People rarely did.
A soft knock interrupted her concentration.
“Come in.”
Bella entered carrying coffee and mischief.
“You work too much.”
“You complain too much.”
Bella handed her a cup.
“I saw your imported problem.”
Lola looked up.
“Gabriel is not imported.”
“He lived abroad. That counts.”
Lola returned to her documents.
“He’s your problem, not mine.”
Bella sat across from her.
“Interesting.”
“What is?”
“You’ve mentioned his name three times since yesterday.”
“That is statistical exaggeration.”
Bella smirked.
“You notice him.”
“I notice weather too.”
“That man is not weather.”
Lola sipped her coffee.
Perhaps not.
And yet something about Gabriel unsettled the careful stillness she had cultivated over the years.
Not emotionally.
Certainly not romantically.
But his presence carried energy she preferred avoiding.
Too observant.
Too confident.
Men like him often assumed the world eventually rearranged itself to accommodate them.
“You know,” Bella said casually, “he asked Alejandro about the farm operations this morning.”
“That sounds responsible.”
“He asked specifically about your projects.”
Lola paused.
Then resumed reading.
“I’m flattered.”
“You’re curious.”
“No.”
Bella narrowed her eyes.
“You’re lying.”
“I am busy.”
Before Bella could argue further, footsteps sounded outside.
Then—
a knock.
Bella grinned wickedly.
“Ah.”
Lola looked toward the door.
Gabriel stood there.
Fresh from horseback riding by the looks of him, sleeves rolled and sunlight caught in dark hair.
He looked inconveniently handsome.
His gaze moved between them.
“Am I interrupting?”
Bella stood immediately.
“Terribly,” she said cheerfully.
Lola remained seated.
“What do you need, Mr. Monteverde?”
Again.
That formality.
He disliked it instantly.
“My father sent me.”
“Condolences.”
Bella coughed to hide laughter.
Gabriel crossed his arms.
“He wants a review of the warehouse reports.”
“They’re on his desk.”
“He prefers explanation.”
Of course he did.
Alejandro enjoyed assigning people to each other.
Lola closed the folder.
“I’ll meet him downstairs.”
Gabriel remained where he was.
“He asked me to join.”
How unfortunate.
Bella rose with suspicious enthusiasm.
“Well,” she said, collecting her coffee, “I suddenly remembered errands.”
Coward.
Lola gave her a look.
Bella smiled innocently and escaped.
Silence settled.
Gabriel studied the office.
Neat.
Organized.
Shelves filled with business journals and agricultural reports.
No excessive decoration.
Unexpected.
“I imagined something different.”
Lola stood.
“From me or the office?”
“Both.”
“And what exactly did you imagine?”
He considered.
“A room with less paperwork.”
“That sounds disappointing.”
“You disappoint easily?”
“No,” she said calmly. “Only selectively.”
His mouth twitched.
There it was again.
Their conversations always felt oddly competitive.
As if neither wanted to concede conversational territory.
“You work a lot,” he said.
“So do you.”
“Touché.”
She gathered documents.
“Shall we?”
He stepped aside.
Ladies first.
The old-fashioned gesture surprised her.
Not many men practiced courtesy without performance.
Interesting.
Then she dismissed the thought.
Interesting was dangerous.
They walked downstairs together.
The hallway remained quiet except for distant household activity.
Gabriel glanced at her.
“You really aren’t disappointed.”
She looked at him.
“About?”
“The marriage arrangement.”
Ah.
That.
“No.”
“You sound relieved.”
“I am.”
He nodded slowly.
“So we agree.”
“We do.”
And yet—
for reasons he disliked examining—
the agreement no longer felt entirely satisfying.
They reached Alejandro’s office.
The older man looked suspiciously pleased to see them together.
“How efficient,” he said.
Lola nearly sighed.
Efficient manipulation.
Alejandro spread documents across his desk.
“The Pampanga warehouse.”
For the next hour, conversation shifted entirely toward business.
And unexpectedly—
Gabriel found himself impressed.
Lola discussed logistics with calm authority.
No arrogance.
No need to dominate.
Just precision.
She explained inventory inconsistencies, supplier negotiations, and transport risks with remarkable clarity.
Alejandro eventually leaned back.
“You see?” he told his son. “She saves me millions.”
Gabriel looked at Lola.
“You built this system?”
She nodded.
“With help.”
“It reduced operational losses by twelve percent,” Alejandro said proudly.
Gabriel studied her.
“You designed it yourself?”
“Yes.”
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Because competence attracted him more than beauty ever had.
And Lola possessed both.
Dangerous combination.
Alejandro excused himself moments later after receiving a phone call.
Leaving them alone.
How convenient.
Lola gathered the folders.
“You look surprised again.”
“I underestimated you.”
“That sounds almost insulting.”
“It wasn’t intended that way.”
She regarded him.
“What exactly did you expect?”
He hesitated.
Honesty seemed safest.
“I don’t know.”
“A decorative dependent?”
His silence answered enough.
Amusement flickered across her face.
“You should meet fewer socialites.”
The remark earned a laugh.
“I know many competent women.”
“And yet you looked surprised.”
Point.
He leaned against the desk.
“You dislike assumptions.”
“I dislike lazy thinking.”
Fair.
Outside, workers prepared tents across the lawn.
Music drifted faintly from somewhere downstairs.
Gabriel watched her organize papers.
“You’re close to my parents.”
The question carried more meaning than the words suggested.
“Yes.”
“You call them Ma’am and Sir.”
“I also call priests Father.”
He smiled.
“That wasn’t an accusation.”
She looked at him carefully.
“I know.”
The truth was more complicated.
The Monteverdes had saved her.
Raised her.
Educated her.
Loved her.
But love and belonging were different things.
Lola had learned that distinction young.
“Your mother worries,” Gabriel said.
“She’s a mother.”
“She wants certainty.”
“And you don’t.”
His gaze settled on her.
“No.”
Something softened briefly in her expression.
“Then perhaps we understand each other.”
The statement should have ended things.
Instead—
Gabriel asked,
“Why don’t you want marriage?”
The room quieted.
A dangerous question.
Lola lowered her eyes to the folders.
How could she explain?
That she remembered lifetimes of devotion and grief?
That she no longer chased completion through another person?
That peace felt holier than romance?
She chose honesty.
“I like my life.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It is.”
“You don’t believe people can share peace?”
She smiled faintly.
“Can they?”
The question lingered.
Because suddenly—
unexpectedly—
Gabriel had no immediate answer.
His relationships had been practical.
Brief.
Undemanding.
He valued independence too much.
Perhaps that was why he understood her more than he expected.
Before conversation could deepen further—
Bianca entered.
And instantly, the atmosphere changed.
“There you are,” she said, smiling toward Gabriel.
“I was beginning to suspect agricultural kidnapping.”
Lola stepped back politely.
Saved by timing.
Bianca slipped beside Gabriel with practiced ease.
“We’re heading into town later, remember?”
He nodded.
Right.
Their arrangement.
His fake relationship.
And strangely—
he became aware of Lola watching the interaction.
Not emotionally.
Merely observing.
Which somehow felt worse.
Bianca glanced between them.
“Am I interrupting?”
“No,” Lola answered smoothly.
“We finished.”
Finished.
The word landed oddly.
She gathered the documents.
“If you’ll excuse me.”
And just like that—
she left.
Gabriel watched her walk toward the doorway.
No dramatic exit.
No lingering glance.
Simply departure.
Bianca folded her arms.
“You enjoy talking to her.”
He looked away.
“We discussed business.”
“You looked interested.”
“She’s intelligent.”
Bianca smiled knowingly.
“And beautiful.”
“That too.”
There.
The admission surprised even him.
Bianca studied his expression.
Dangerous territory.
Very dangerous.
Meanwhile, Lola crossed the garden toward the eastern fields.
The wind carried warmth through the sugarcane.
She walked without hurry, hoping distance might quiet the strange tension she refused to acknowledge.
Yet his question lingered.
Can people share peace?
She remembered another life.
A cottage near the sea.
A husband who laughed easily.
For a while—
they had shared peace.
Until illness came.
Until goodbye.
Lola closed her eyes briefly.
No.
This life would be different.
And still—
despite herself—
she found her thoughts returning to a man standing inside the ancestral house with restless eyes and inconvenient curiosity.
A man she had no intention of knowing better.
Unfortunately—
Gabriel Monteverde, watching her disappear across the fields—
was beginning to consider the exact opposite.
- Writer
