Fiona was smoothing sunblock across her back, preparing for a swim, when someone suddenly approached.
"Let me do that for you," the stranger offered with a smile.
She glanced up. It was a man—or at least, not quite the typical man. He wore a white sleeveless shirt, denim shorts down to his knees, a wide-brimmed native hat, and a colorful scarf knotted loosely around his neck.
"Hi." He knelt beside her beach chair, flashing a warm grin. He looked to be in his early thirties, his manner lively and flamboyant. "I've been watching you from my cottage for a while now. And you know what? You instantly stole my attention."
"Really?" Fiona's lips curved in amusement. "And why is that?"
"Because you're stunning. The way you carry yourself—it's like watching a beauty queen. Actually, I think you have the potential to become one."
Fiona let out a small laugh. "Do you really think so?"
"No kidding. By the way, I'm Benny." He extended his hand.
She shook it without hesitation. "Fiona. Fiona Guevarra."
"I just couldn't resist coming over. You're like a diamond sparkling among pieces of glass."
This time Fiona's laugh was longer, more genuine.
"Have you ever considered joining a beauty pageant?" Benny asked eagerly.
She shrugged. "Hmm… why not?"
"Perfect! That's exactly my line of work. I'm a talent scout, and—if I may brag a little—I've discovered quite a few beauty queens myself. Honestly, with your looks, your height, and your natural poise, I believe you could be the next Miriam Quiambao."
Fiona's eyes lit up at the thought. His words struck a chord deep inside her. Could it really be possible?
"You really think I could?" she pressed, almost breathless.
"Absolutely, darling. I'm certain of it."
"Well, you're not the first to tell me that," she admitted. "I've competed in a few contests before—but only within the university."
Still, the thought lingered in her mind. Maybe this was her chance—the door that could lead to recognition, wealth, and perhaps even the man of her dreams. If she won a prestigious title, surely millionaires would be lining up to court her.
They spoke for quite some time. Benny asked questions about her background, her work, and her family, and she willingly shared. Before they parted, he took her number, promising to stay in touch.
But Benny wasn't who he claimed to be.
Later that day, a different scene played out inside a luxurious villa's private bar.
"Fiona Guevarra, Sir," reported Bino, the same man who had introduced himself to her as "Benny." "She's twenty-one, an HRM graduate, currently working at Isabelle Hotel. She lives in Alfonso, Cavite, with her father and stepmother. Only child. Her best friend owns a villa here at Villa Royale."
The man seated at the bar swirled brandy in his glass, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
"Well done, Bino. I didn't expect you to play the part so convincingly."
Bino chuckled sheepishly. "Honestly, Boss, I've never pretended to be gay before. I only did it because you asked."
"Good. You'll be rewarded," the man assured him smoothly.
"Thank you, Sir. But I have to ask—why go through all this trouble? If you're really interested in Fiona, why not just introduce yourself properly?"
"Not yet," the man replied, sipping his drink. His eyes gleamed with something more than desire—it was strategy. "I have a plan."
"A plan?" Bino leaned in, eager.
The man poured another glass, handed it to his loyal aide, and gave him a slow, knowing smile. "I like her. I want to win her heart. But I don't want her to fall for me because of my name or my wealth. I want her to love me as I am."
Bino frowned, puzzled. "But wouldn't it be easier if you revealed who you really are?"
"There are reasons, Bino. Deep ones. For now, I'll meet her only as an ordinary man."
Back at Isabelle Hotel, Fiona returned to work after her brief escape at Villa Royale. The luxury she'd tasted still lingered in her thoughts—so different from her everyday life.
She waited, almost anxiously, for Benny's call while assisting guests at the executive suites. If he's serious, maybe he can really get me into a prestigious pageant. The possibility filled her with a mix of hope and excitement.
If I win, I'll be known not just in the Philippines but around the world. I could even become Miss Universe—or at least a runner-up. Then Mommy would see me. She'd finally be proud of me. And I'd let her feel the pain of the years she abandoned us.
But when the day ended and no call came, Fiona's spirits sank. She left work feeling restless and disappointed.
On her way home, a taxi slowed to a crawl beside her, keeping pace. The driver leaned out. "Taxi, Miss?"
She stopped—and blinked. The driver was impossibly handsome. His face looked more like that of a model or an actor than a cabbie. Dark, deep-set eyes. Strong jaw. Wavy hair brushing his forehead. A cross between Keanu Reeves and an older Leandro Muñoz.
Before she could react, he stepped out, opened the door for her, and smiled. His simple outfit—a crisp white polo, faded jeans, white sneakers—only made him look even more striking.
Almost without thinking, Fiona slid into the backseat.
"Where to, Miss?" he asked politely.
"Alfonso," she managed, still mesmerized. From the rearview mirror, she watched him as the car eased forward.
Soft music drifted from the stereo. He hummed along, his voice deep and smooth, and Fiona felt as though she were being lulled into a spell. When their eyes accidentally met in the mirror, she quickly looked away, cheeks warming.
"Do you work at Isabelle Hotel?" he asked casually.
"Yes. Why?"
"Maybe you need regular service—someone to pick you up and drop you off every day."
She tilted her head. "Actually… commuting is exhausting. The FX is always packed."
"It is tough. And dangerous for a woman like you. You'd be safer with me. Consider me your driver and bodyguard."
Fiona smiled despite herself. A gorgeous taxi driver, offering to be her daily escort? Tempting.
They talked the entire ride. She learned his name—Hendrick—and agreed to let him fetch her each morning.
The next day, true to his word, Hendrick arrived at dawn. As he drove, Fiona tested him with questions.
"Is this taxi yours?"
"No, it belongs to my godfather."
Her smile faltered. A small disappointment stirred in her chest.
"Why not try acting? With your looks, producers would line up for you."
Hendrick chuckled. "Not interested. Too much stress, too many scandals. I prefer a simple life. Peaceful. Quiet."
No ambition, Fiona thought privately. Not the kind of man who could make my dreams come true.
But then he revealed something unexpected: he was still studying, working hard while supporting his younger brother through school. Only now, after his brother's graduation, was he continuing his own education.
Fiona was impressed. So he does have ambition. Still… he's not the man I've been waiting for.
She dismissed the attraction she felt, convincing herself she couldn't risk falling for a man with nothing yet to offer.
Later that afternoon, Isabelle Hotel welcomed a group of powerful businessmen for a three-day conference. Fiona, part of the guest relations team, helped usher them in.
One of the guests, however, couldn't take his eyes off her.
By evening, Fiona's supervisor handed her a folded note.
Let's have dinner tonight, pretty lady.
Her brows arched. "Who sent this?"
"Mr. Julian Zaavedra," Margie whispered, her tone tinged with envy. "You're lucky, Fiona. He clearly likes you."
Fiona scoffed, half-serious. "Lucky? What if he's bald and overweight? He didn't even bother to introduce himself first."
Margie gasped. "You don't know him? Julian Zaavedra is no ordinary man. He's the eldest son of Don Edmundo Zaavedra—the banking and real estate tycoon. Their family develops subdivisions all over Metro Manila, Cavite, Laguna. He's also a close friend of Vincent Zobel, the owner of this hotel."
Fiona's eyes widened, her interest instantly piqued.
"Oh yes," Margie continued. "He's in his late thirties, handsome, fit, and very, very wealthy. Word is, he's stayed single because he was too focused on business. But tonight, he chose you."
Fiona's pulse quickened. A millionaire. Successful. Influential. Everything she had been waiting for.
Her lips curved into a slow, satisfied smile.
Perhaps Julian Zaavedra is the man of my dreams.
And if he was, she vowed, she wouldn't let him slip away.