The morning light filtered through the tall, expansive windows of her Mansion, casting long, sharp shadows across the polished marble floors. For today's ensemble, she had chosen high-waisted cream tailored trousers paired with a crisp white silk blouse, tucked in perfectly to accentuate her silhouette. Draped over her shoulders with effortless precision was a structured baby blue blazer, a splash of color that radiated as fresh yet formidable professional aura.
"Morning, Miss Fortunata."
The deep baritone vibrated through the air, stopping Phoebe mid-stride on the stairs. Seeing Raymond lounging so comfortably in her private space caused her brow to knit in immediate suspicion. She resumed her descent, her fingers tightening around the handle of her leather briefcase.
"Why are you here?"
"I'm driving you to work," he replied casually, as if his presence there were the most natural thing in the world.
A dry, cynical smile touched her lips. "Are you so desperate to be a chauffeur? Can you no longer afford the rent for your penthouse?"
A low, quiet chuckle followed, accompanied by a slow shake of his head. Her sharp tongue never failed to amuse him. "No, I don't need your money. I simply want to ensure you get to the office or wherever your schedule leads you today, safely."
"I have no desire to be seen in that vintage relic of yours again," she snapped, cutting the conversation short. Without waiting for a response, she brushed past him and headed for the door, intent on leaving him behind. But the moment she stepped outside, she froze.
The morning sun shimmered perfectly the metallic surface of a Porsche in Frozen Berry Metallic. It was breathtaking, a sophisticated blend of soft pink and metallic lilac that looked undeniably expensive under the light. Its aerodynamic lines glistened, looking as though it had been delivered straight from the showroom just for this morning.
"No," a smooth voice whispered right behind her shoulder, sounding calm yet triumphant. "I'm picking you up this morning with the Porsche requested and I can assure you, not single soul has sat in that passenger seat, just as you were so worried about the other day.
A sudden silence filled the air, her mind wen blank, she had never expected him to actually drop over $130,000 just because of stray commend she had made. The car stood there as undeniable proof of his intent, and the realization that he had remembered every word made her chest tighten in a way she couldn't quite explain.
"You have no more excuses, Miss Fortunata."
Measured footsteps moved toward the vehicle. With a fluid, masculine grace, the passenger door was pulled wide open, a silent invitation that left no room for argument. This time, she truly found herself without a single word to protest.
Refusing to back down from her own challenge, Phoebe finally stepped into the car, her eyes briefly scanned the interior, noting the impeccable craftsmanship she had always admired. In fact, she had once planned to acquire this exact unit herself, but the relentless chaos involving Nick had forced her to put such luxuries on hold.
Raymond slid into the driver's seat, the scent of expensive leather and a faint, masculine cologne filling the cabin. "For you information," he started, his hands gripping the steering wheel with effortless grace, "you are the first woman who has ever made me want to drive myself just to escort her."
"Oh, that's quite fascinating," Phoebe replied, her tone dripping with mock sincerity. She offered a stiff, formal smile that didn't reach her eyes. "But I don't care."
He didn't snap back. Instead, a faint, amused glint appeared in his eyes. Her defiance was a constant test of his patience, yet he found the challenge increasingly worth the effort.
They hadn't even reached the main road when his phone began to vibrate. Raymond glanced at the screen, his expression shifting into something unreadable. He hesitated, clearly reluctant to answer.
"Why do you look so afraid to pick up? Is there a secret woman you're trying to hide?" Phoebe prodded, her voice laced with intentional provocation. She wasn't about to let the thought of another woman interference with whatever this strange connection between them was.
Without a word, Raymond simply tilted the screen toward her, revealing the caller ID. Phoebe's brow arched in confusion as she read the name.
"Mr. Rodriguez?"
He nodded curtly.
"Wait … is that your father?"
A slow, knowing smile spread across his lips. "Yes. He's my father."
Phoebe fell silent, her mind spinning it felt strange, cold, even to see a father's name saved as a formal title rather than something more personal. She chose not to pry, though her initial suspicion about another woman had been effectively neutralized.
"What your business?" Raymond finally answered, his voice turning icy.
"Where are you now?" a stern voice boomed from the other end.
"Still on earth. Why?"
Phoebe's eyes widened at the bluntness. She quickly looked away, pretending to be occupied with her own phone, though she was listening to every syllable.
"Obviously you're on Earth," the man replied sharply. "There are no cell phones in Hell."
"Well?" Raymond's tone remained indifferent.
"I'm calling because my wife is asking about her son's whereabouts. So, where are you? I'd like to give her a direct answer."
"I'm in Australia. Is there anything else you need to know?"
"Australia? What took you there? Is it a massive business deal, or is there an … emergency?"
"Something big and very precious." Raymond replied, his gaze drifting toward Phoebe. He caught her eye in the reflection of the window, his smile deepening. "That's why I'm here."
The weight of his stare wasn't lost on her. The way he said 'precious' felt like a brand, as if he were declaring her his most valuable asset without ever saying her name.
"Hey, my son!"
The voice on the line changed. A woman had joined the call, and Raymond's demeanor softened instantly. "Yes, Mom?"
"Don't just focus on your business! You must remember to find a partner. You need an heir to carry on the Rodriguez legacy!"
"Don't worry, Mom. I'm working on it."
Phoebe tried her best to ignore the conversation, but since the volume was audible in the quiet car, every word felt like a nudge.
"Are you sure?" his mother pressed.
"Yes, I'm sure. I'll have that settled very soon."
"So … the reason you've disappeared from the radar and flown to Australia is because you've found her? Your partner?"
"You could say that."
"Oh, that makes me so happy!"
Despite the coldness between the man, it was clear that family expectations still ran deep. His mother clearly wanted a grandchild to inherit the vast Rodriguez fortune.
"What kind of Australian woman could possibly capture your interest? I'm dying to know."
"I believe I have excellent taste."
"You can't say my taste is bad, because that would be an insult to your mother!" Mr. Rodriguez chimed in.
Raymond let out small, genuine laugh. "For once, I won't argue with you. You were quite clever in choosing your partner."
As the call ended, Phoebe's mind was in a whirl. She couldn't understand the dynamic. Why did Raymond and his father speak to each other like strangers or worse, like rivals? It felt more like a business negotiation that a family speak.
Whatever, she thought, leaning her head against the cool of the Porsche. I have enough problems without trying to decipher the twisted family tree of a Rodriguez.
*****
The rest of the drive passed in a blur of engine hums and unspoken thoughts until the sleek silhouette of Phoebe's office building loomed ahead. As the car glided to a halt, a heavy silence settled between them.
"How was the morning commute, Miss Fortunata?"
Phoebe tilted her head, her expression unreadable as she took a moment to deliberate. "Quite pleasant," she replied, her voice cool. "Mostly because of the 911."
It was a sharp jab, a clear sign that her enthusiasm was reserved for the machine, not the man behind the wheel.
Raymond didn't seem bothered. In fact, he looked almost satisfied. "Fair enough. In that case … this is for you." He reached out placing the key fob in her hand before stepping out of the car. "Use it as you wish. I'll be taking my leave now, I have other matters to attend to."
"What?!" The suddenness of it caught her off guard. She stared at the keys, then at him.
"I bought it exactly as you requested because it was always meant for you," he said, leaning against the doorframe, his gaze locked onto hers. "A gift for Miss Fortunata."
Reflexive disbelief surged through her. Even with everything she knew about is wealth and his past grand gestures, the reality of him just handing over a brand-new Porsche and walking away was staggering.
"You're just going to leave?" she asked, her voice regaining its edge. "Does that mean you're expecting me to drive myself home alone?"
A small, knowing smile played on his lips. "If you want me pick you up later and escort you home, I'll gladly do it. But I still won't touch that car of yours. Don't worry, someone is already on their way to get me."
Determined not to let her 'Boss' aura fade, Phoebe maintained her composure. She didn't gush of offer a warm smile, she simply accepted the luxury item as if it were a standard business transaction.
"Fine. Do as you please, I couldn't care less," she remarked, adjusting her blazer. "But … thank you for the 911, Mr. Rodriguez."
The way she emphasized his name carried a hidden wight, a subtle acknowledgment of the game they were playing.
"My pleasure. Go on inside. I'll leave once you're safely through those doors."
Choosing not to waste another second on a debate she couldn't win, Phoebe turned away, her stride confident as she headed toward the entrance. Her time was far too valuable for lingering goodbyes.
As she reached the lobby, she gestured to the concierge at the front desk, handing over the keys so the Porsche could be moved to her private parking spot.
If I were with him … she mused, watching her reflection pass by the glass partitions. I wouldn't have to build his career from the ground up like I did with Nick.
Phoebe caught herself and immediately shook her head, her baby blue blazer shifting with the sudden movement.
No! what am I even thinking? She scolded herself, her brow knitting in frustration. He's a stranger. An arrogant, mysterious stranger. I can't let my mind wander there. Not now. Not ever.
She pressed the elevator button with perhaps a bit more force that necessary, determined to lock those thoughts away before they could take root.