"Good morning, L."
Rachelle's flirtatious greeting hit the office the moment she walked in. Ugh. She was here early, clearly ready to annoy everyone. She was Ms. Akeshia's sister, but somehow even more insufferable—and it was obvious she had a thing for Francis. I ignored her and walked over to him.
"Coffee, sir?" I asked, placing the cup in front of him after he looked up.
"I want some tea, please," Rachelle called from behind, already sinking into the sofa.
I exhaled deeply, preparing to leave and make her tea, when Francis stopped me.
"No, stay here," he said firmly.
"What now? I just need my morning tea," Rachelle complained.
"She's not your maid. She's my secretary," Francis snapped.
Rachelle smirked. "Excuse me? Don't you remember? When Uncle Jim came to the Philippines, we were already engaged. So, basically, what's yours is mine too."
I froze. Engaged? Why did my chest tighten? Focus, Gianna. It's none of your business.
"No. We're not. Stop dreaming," Francis cut in, pulling my attention back.
"All the board members agreed we two would marry. And besides, it's for the company—to expand overseas," Rachelle added with a grin, glancing at me.
I looked away, refusing to meet her smug eyes.
"Get out before I lose my temper, Rachelle," Francis said coldly.
"Whatever!" she said, storming past me and bumping into me as she left. Ugh. The nerve.
---
By noon, I needed a break. I decided to visit my cousin for a change of scenery and a breather from the office chaos.
"Did you hear the gossip?" she asked while adjusting her eyebrows in a small mirror.
"What gossip?" I asked.
"The wedding—Ms. Akeshia and her sister's—was supposed to be this month, but it's been moved to December."
"Wait… why?" I asked, adjusting my seat. "Did they break up?" I thought. That would be a shame. And… could this have something to do with Francis? I didn't like where my thoughts were going.
"Don't overthink. That's not what I meant," my cousin said, applying lipstick while looking at me. "So, apparently it's because of Mr. Jim. I overheard, but I forgot the details."
Jim? That name triggered a memory of Rachelle's earlier words. Who was this Mr. Jim, and why did his presence affect people close to Francis so much?
"Who exactly is Mr. Jim?" I asked, curiosity prickling at me.
"He's Sir Locan and Sir Asher's uncle. He's coming back to the Philippines at the end of this month—three weeks from now," she said, setting down her lipstick and mirror. "Doesn't it suit me, though?" she asked playfully, studying her face in the mirror.
She looked even more beautiful with just simple makeup. She was the one who usually did my makeup for important events. I barely knew anything about these beauty routines—I just needed lipstick, foundation, and a comb to look presentable.
"You know, Ms. Akeshia hardly comes here anymore. But someone's replaced her. You know that tall, beautiful woman who comes into Sir Locan's office all the time? So pretentious. She even kicked us out of the elevator this morning because she was 'uncomfortable' being inside with others. She could've had a private elevator or taken the stairs!" My cousin's voice dripped with irritation as she recounted the story.
"She's Ms. Akeshia's sister," I said simply.
"What? That pretentious woman? Her? Ms. Akeshia's sister? Is she adopted or something? No wonder they act so differently," my cousin replied sarcastically.
"I don't know. Ms. Akeshia says she's her sister," I shrugged.
"Seriously? That's… unbelievable. What's her name?" my cousin asked, pretending to write it down.
"Rachelle," I said. "And just let it be. If I can handle seeing her in the office all the time, you can too."
"True… but I feel like she has a thing for Sir Locan. It's like she was made to be… irresistible," she commented, sitting beside me.
I didn't respond. I already knew the truth—by the time Mr. Jim arrived, they would likely be engaged.
---
It was 5:12 PM, and I was still working overtime, trying to finish the mountain of paperwork that had just arrived. Mistakes were not an option. My finger, still sore from yesterday's minor injury, throbbed slightly every time I held a pen.
I was almost done when the door opened and Francis appeared, surprised to see me.
"It's late. Why are you still here?" he asked, walking over.
"Just a little longer, sir. I'm almost done," I replied, eyes glued to the papers.
"No. Finish it tomorrow," he said, reaching for the documents.
"No, I can finish this now. Just a little longer," I said, moving them out of his reach.
"Then let me help you," he suggested.
"What's the point of being my secretary if you're doing my work?" I asked.
He stared at me for a moment, then laughed, and I scowled. "What's so funny?"
"You're cute," he said softly. My cheeks burned, and I looked away.
"Just a little longer," I said, voice trembling slightly. Focus, Gianna!
Suddenly, he sat next to me, taking the pen from my hand. My phone rang—Rachelle's name flashing on the screen. I felt a surge of irritation and snatched the pen back.
"I've got this. Go home, sir," I said firmly.
He ignored the phone call, placing it back on the desk.
"Let me help you," he repeated. I almost rolled my eyes.
"I can manage. Almost done," I said.
"No. I insist, Gianna."
"Go home. Your soon-to-be fiancée is probably calling you," I blurted out without thinking. Even I was surprised by my words.
"Gianna… look, I didn't mean—"
"Why are you explaining yourself? Why should I care if you're engaged soon? Just leave me alone and let me finish this," I snapped.
He sighed audibly.
"What?" I asked, annoyed.
"Okay… I'm sorry," he said quietly.
"Sorry… for what?"
"I know you're jealous—"
I exhaled sharply. Me? Jealous? No way.
"Jealous? Me? Why would I be jealous?" I asked.
"Stop pretending, Gianna. I know you're jealous."
"Excuse me? Why would I be jealous?"
"I don't know… maybe because you like me."
I froze. My heart started racing, and I swallowed hard, avoiding his gaze.
"You're making that up," I muttered.
"Why won't you look at me? Look at me and tell me you don't like me," he said, voice low and teasing.
I couldn't speak. My chest tightened, breaths coming in short bursts. His eyes were so deep, so intense, I felt like I was being hypnotized.
Shit.
"Now tell me… you really don't like me, Gianna? Tell me," he whispered.
I opened my mouth to speak, but no sound came out.
"Not…," I started, but froze when he leaned closer. My body tensed, and my breathing hitched as our faces drew near.
Shit.
"I… like you," I admitted before I could stop myself.
He grinned. "Good girl," he whispered, closing the distance between our lips. I didn't resist. I didn't protest. I let him.
He held my face gently as our lips met again. My body froze at first, but slowly, the warmth of his touch spread through me. I wasn't resisting—though I should have—but every nerve in my body was alert, craving more.
His hand slid to my shoulder, fingers tracing along my collarbone, pulling me closer. I could feel his heart beating fast beneath his chest, matching the rapid thrum in my own chest. My lips parted slightly, and I let out a quiet sigh, instinctively biting my bottom lip to stifle it.
"Francis…" I whispered, my voice trembling.
"Shh," he murmured, his lips brushing mine again. "Quiet."
I felt his hand slip under my uniform top, hesitating just for a second before daringly exploring the curve of my back. My pulse raced, my breaths shallow and quick.
"F-Francis…" I tried again, my voice barely audible.
"Say my name, Gianna," he whispered seductively, his lips tracing down my neck, sending shivers across my skin.
I couldn't respond, couldn't form the words my mind screamed at me. His hands were skilled, deliberate, and I could feel the teasing pressure of his touch making it impossible to think straight.
"Now, tell me… you don't want me," he breathed against my ear.
"I… I…" My words failed me. My heart raced, my body betraying my resolve. He leaned in closer, lips brushing mine just enough to ignite a fire I didn't know I had.
"I like you," I admitted before I could stop myself. My words felt raw, uncontrollable, yet liberating.
"Good girl," he whispered, grinning as his lips pressed against mine more firmly. I didn't pull away. I couldn't. Something about him made me surrender completely.
He lifted me slightly, and I found myself sitting on the edge of the desk. My heart pounded, my breaths hitching. His lips traced a trail down my neck, and I couldn't stop the soft moans that slipped from me. My hands instinctively tangled in his hair, holding him closer.
"Francis…" I gasped, my body alive with sensation.
"Shh… just feel this, Gianna," he murmured, his hands daringly exploring, teasing me with a skill that left me breathless.
Every movement, every touch, sent sparks racing across my skin. I couldn't fight it, couldn't resist him, and for the first time, I didn't want to. He knew exactly how to make me feel—completely exposed, completely captivated, completely his.