Chapter 4
1703 Words
Stine stormed out of the dining hall, her heels hitting the marble like gunshots.
Her chest was heaving.
Marriage? Seriously?
She pushed the glass doors open and stepped into the garden, gulping down the night air.
She wasn’t sure if she wanted to cry, scream, or punch something.
Maybe all three.
She didn’t notice Alaric was following until she heard the door click behind her.
“Stine.”
“Don’t,” she snapped without turning around.
“I didn’t know,” he said quietly. “About the engagement.”
She turned to him, eyes blazing.
“You think that makes it better?”
He stuffed his hands into his pockets, frustrated.
“Look, I’m just as shocked as you are.”
Stine crossed her arms, jaw clenched.
“Well, tell your perfect real estate family to back off. I’m not some asset they can merge with yours.”
Alaric stepped closer, tension rising in his voice.
“You think I’m thrilled about this? I choked on my wine, remember?”
She gave him a withering glare.
“You choke when you lie too, baka reflex na.”
Alaric scowled.
“Jesus, you’re impossible.”
“I’d rather be impossible than married to you.”
He stared at her. For a second, no one said a word.
Then he muttered, “Good. Because I’m not agreeing to this either.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
They stood in silence. Breathing hard. Eyes locked. Emotions everywhere.
And yet...
That damn night in New York still haunted them both.
Neither wanted this marriage.
But both still remembered what it felt like to want each other.
To need.
To lose control.
Stine looked away first.
“I’m leaving.”
“You always run,” he said quietly.
She paused but didn’t look back.
Then walked off into the darkness — heart pounding, throat tight.
And Alaric let her go.
For now.
The day after the bombshell dinner, Stine locked herself in her room and ignored every call from her mom.
Her phone lit up nonstop.
Theo.
Jace.
Ram.
Even Doña Clarisse.
She wanted none of it.
But reality had other plans.
That afternoon, a black car from the Navarro company arrived outside her condo.
And by evening, she found herself in a private lounge at a luxury hotel—seated across from him again.
Alaric Ybañez.
Same cold eyes. Same smug face.
God, she hated how good he looked in a suit.
She shifted in her seat and scowled at her parents.
“I thought you said no pressure.”
Don Ramon smiled. “There’s no pressure, anak. Just attend a few business meetings together. Work closely. Get to know each other again.”
Doña Vivian added, “You two are future leaders of our brands. Might as well start acting like partners.”
Stine crossed her legs. “Business partners, not life partners.”
“Just give it a try,” Doña Clarisse said gently. “No one’s rushing you. Just... date. See if something’s there.”
Alaric snorted. “We’ve known each other since we were kids. We already know there’s nothing there.”
He looked at Stine.
She glared back.
“That’s mutual.”
Their parents ignored the sarcasm.
“Perfect,” Don Emilio said. “First joint meeting’s tomorrow at 10. Ybañez Towers. Don’t be late.”
The next day
Stine stepped into the boardroom with a tight black dress, red lipstick, and a whole lot of attitude.
Alaric was already inside, sleeves rolled up, talking to two executives.
The moment he saw her, he fell silent.
His eyes trailed from her lips to her legs—and he looked away fast.
Stine smirked.
“Staring’s rude,” she whispered as she walked past him.
“You’re overdressed,” he muttered back.
“For once, I’m not wearing pajamas to a meeting. You’re welcome.”
They sat side by side as the pitch began.
At first, they barely looked at each other.
But their synergy was undeniable.
They fired off sharp questions.
They closed loopholes in proposals.
They even—shockingly—agreed on one marketing concept.
The older execs looked impressed.
By the end of the meeting, Alaric stood and buttoned his blazer.
“That wasn’t so bad,” he muttered.
“Don’t get used to it,” Stine replied.
But as they left the room together—shoulders brushing, breaths held—they both knew something was shifting.
Slowly.
Dangerously.
For the next few weeks, it felt like the universe — or their parents — were playing the longest prank ever.
Stine and Alaric couldn’t escape each other.
Everywhere she turned, nandun siya.
Office meetings.
Lunch appointments.
Charity events for their brands.
Every schedule was magkasama.
“Coincidence, my ass,” Stine muttered one morning as she adjusted her heels in the elevator at Ybañez Towers.
She stepped out... and of course, Alaric was already waiting by the conference room, sipping his black coffee like a smug prince.
“Wow,” she said flatly. “Don’t you ever oversleep?”
Alaric gave her a lazy glance. “Some of us were raised with discipline.”
“Some of us weren’t raised to be arrogant, but here we are.”
He smirked.
“Nice dress.”
She blinked. “What?”
“I said—” he leaned in slightly “—nice dress. You finally look like you belong in a boardroom.”
She rolled her eyes but felt the heat creeping to her cheeks.
Lunch meetings were even worse.
Their parents insisted they do weekly luncheons with business partners—together.
Which meant sitting beside Alaric while pretending not to feel his knee bumping hers under the table.
Or watching him charm older investors while she forced a polite smile.
One afternoon, while exiting a restaurant, he casually placed a hand on the small of her back as cameras clicked.
“Get your hand off me,” she hissed, smiling for the press.
“Relax,” he murmured. “PR, remember?”
He didn’t move it.
And she didn’t push it away.
Then came the charity event.
A gala for their families’ joint foundations.
Red carpet.
Press.
Flashbulbs.
Alaric looked deadly in a black suit. Stine in a deep emerald gown that hugged every curve.
“Smile,” he said through his teeth as they posed for a photo.
She forced one. “Keep your distance.”
“Why? You don’t want people thinking we’re in love?”
“They might mistake you for a decent man.”
He chuckled under his breath.
Later that night, while seated at their assigned table, Stine spotted Theo, Jace, and Ram entering the venue.
Finally—comfort zone.
Her whole face lit up.
She stood to greet them with tight hugs and excited chatter.
But Alaric… noticed.
His jaw ticked. Hands clenched. And when he saw how close Theo stood beside her, whispering something that made her laugh?
Something inside him snapped.
Zion, who was seated nearby, leaned toward him with a grin.
“Dude. Jealous much?”
Alaric scowled. “Shut up.”
Eli snorted. “You’re glaring like a boyfriend. Chill.”
“I’m not jealous,” Alaric muttered. “They’re just... too handsy.”
“Sure,” Zion teased. “Next ka na, Ybañez. Schedule your claim.”
Alaric drained his drink.
Because deep down, he didn’t know if he wanted to claim her...
…or if she’d already claimed a piece of him.
“Stop chewing so loud.”
Stine didn’t even look up from her salad.
Alaric, seated across the lunch table in the Ybañez Tower executive lounge, raised a brow.
“Are you seriously policing the way I chew now?”
“You’re loud. Crunchy pa yung lettuce ko, pero ikaw ang mas naririnig ko.”
Alaric leaned forward, lips twitching.
“Kung ayaw mo marinig, lumayo ka.”
She stabbed a cherry tomato. “Believe me, I wish I could.”
Since their forced team-up began, they’d been paired for everything — and the results were... explosive.
They never saw eye to eye.
Marketing ideas? Opposite.
Charity directions? Opposite.
Even the playlist sa office elevator? Opposite.
And every time they were alone — kahit five minutes lang — it was World War III with designer outfits.
That afternoon, they had to prep a joint speech for an upcoming product launch.
“Keep it short,” Stine said while typing.
“Don’t make it boring,” Alaric countered, reading over her shoulder.
“Not everyone wants to hear your voice for ten minutes, Alaric.”
“But they’ll want to see me,” he said with a wink.
She scoffed.
“Wow. Your ego has its own gravitational pull.”
“And yet, you orbit me all the time.”
She turned to glare at him. “Excuse me?!”
Alaric smirked.
“Sabi mo nga, you wish you could get away. Pero hindi mo magawa.”
For a moment, neither spoke.
Their eyes locked.
Something unspoken passed between them — heat, maybe.
Frustration.
Attraction?
No. Stine looked away first, heart hammering.
“I’m taking a break,” she muttered, grabbing her phone.
Alaric leaned back in his chair.
“Try not to miss me.”
She shot him the finger over her shoulder.
He chuckled.
Later that day, at the press briefing rehearsal...
“Can you walk any slower?” Stine said as they entered the hall.
“I’m walking at a normal pace,” Alaric replied coolly.
“You walk like you own the building.”
“I do,” he said.
“Of course you do.”
They practiced reading the speech together. Or at least they tried.
Every line was an argument.
“You’re not delivering it with sincerity.”
“Well maybe it’s because I didn’t write these cheesy lines.”
“That part was mine!”
“No wonder it sounds like a K-drama script.”
“You love K-dramas.”
“Only the hot female leads.”
Stine threw a pen at him.
“Childish,” she muttered.
He caught it mid-air.
“Witch.”
But then she laughed.
And he smiled too, but quickly masked it with a smirk.
- Writer
