Chapter 1
Alaric San Madrid.
Filthy rich.
His father was one of the most influential businessmen of his time. In their hometown, people respected and feared them. The old San Madrid was no saint. His mother only married his father out of fear. She was quiet and reserved.
His grandfather was pure Spanish and married a Filipina from a good family. Thus, his family was strict, shaping him into who he was. Their ancestral home in Silay City was the biggest Spanish-influenced mansion built during the height of the Philippine sugar industry’s success.
Due to the strong influence of Spanish customs in their family, he grew up with calculated moves, especially since his father lacked passion and affection. His family wasn’t hostile but cold.
It was no surprise he wasn’t talkative either. He kept quiet. People didn’t know much about him.
They didn’t know he used to be part of the special forces and the best in combat operations. He was forced to leave on his father’s orders. He suffered from PTSD after his most traumatic operation when he was still part of the force.
Now, he’s the CEO of Sandrid Ventures, Inc.
Founded in the 90s by his late grandfather, Sandrid Ventures has business interests in power, banking and financial services, food manufacturing, infrastructure, and real estate development.
Despite his influential lineage, he chose to live a quiet life. Reporters chased him, but his bodyguards kept them at a safe distance.
He lives in Manila now. Aside from being the CEO of Sandrid Ventures, he and his friend, fellow businessman Nazariel Moretti, built Club Axis, one of the most exclusive and luxurious clubs in the world.
Truth be told, he didn’t know how he became part-owner of the club. Going to such places wasn’t in his personality. Eventually, the VIP room of Club Axis became his den when he needed to breathe.
It became an unwritten rule at Club Axis to avoid discussing business inside the club.
Prominent figures frequented the place. He knew the other CEOs well. The club had six permanent members: him, Nazariel Moretti, Angus Brixton Jr., Zyxen Falcon III, Hendrikus Lavrenti, and Doukas Damarcus.
Now that Nazariel was busy with his wife, Alaric was forced to visit the club more than usual. Nazariel said he used to hate his wife. It reached the point where he hid her true status and never treated the woman he married as a wife.
Oh well, that’s not the case now.
Alaric looked around. Regardless of the hour, the crowd inside the club didn’t seem to dwindle. All glam and stunning in the dim light.
With his towering height of 6-feet-4-inches and physical features that attract the opposite sex, keeping a low profile was hard for him. When alone at Club Axis, his favorite spot was a dark corner. He wore a hooded sweater to hide his face. That way, he could drink his beer undisturbed.
He frowned when he noticed a woman at the next table drinking beer like water. Her hair was tied back in a high ponytail, putting her high cheekbones on display. She had the finest nose, thin and the perfect size for her small face. Her lips looked soft and naturally red. Even seated, her outfit was obvious: a bloody red, figure-hugging tube dress.
She almost slumped on the table from intoxication. He shook his head. Some women don’t care about getting drunk anywhere. It was a waste because she was beautiful, but she looked like a mess.
He wasn’t the kind to judge, but the woman looked like a mess. A man approached her and whispered in her ear. The woman smiled in a flirtatious way. They talked for a moment before the man turned away. Perhaps they agreed on where to meet later. He was disgusted. His family ingrained in his mind that the only woman worth his attention was pure and from a respected family.
Even with women clinging to his close friends Nazariel, Khairo, and Zeke, he was the one without a companion. Women who offer casual sex will never be his type. As a matter of fact, he was never into casual sex.
When he looked in the woman’s direction again, he was surprised to find her staring at him. The woman was gorgeous, no doubt, breathtaking even. Her stare was intense. And curse all hell, he couldn’t avert his gaze no matter how hard he tried.
The woman stood up, her steps sure as she approached him. Her legs were long, goodness, and his brain was already producing images of those legs wrapped around his waist. He chastised himself.
“Hi, there! You’ve been looking at me. Do you like me?” she asked without restraint.
He didn’t speak. He maintained that cold expression on his face. He thought she would leave, but her hand cupped his chin. She bent over the table, leaned closer, and her mouth came down to his for a carnal kiss. He felt her warm tongue inside his mouth.
Never had he kissed a stranger before. And her kind of kiss was demanding, wanting him to respond.
When she finally pulled away, her gaze lingered on his face. “Are you rich? You can have sex with me if you have 5 million.”
One hour ago
Isla’s throat burned. A lot happened within a month. She was supposed to marry her boyfriend, Marcus. They were together for ten years. Now, she’s twenty-eight and just got engaged last month. Marcus proposed to her, but she had just found out that he had married her best friend, Freya.
Freya was her best friend! Her best friend! Since grade school!
Isla was poor. Her mother was alive back then, but they relied on selling vegetables and fruits. Sometimes newspapers, too. She had no allowance for school, even though it was a private one, because she was the mayor's scholar, so they had no tuition to pay. The mayor gave her an allowance, but instead of buying snacks at school, she chose to buy rice and food.
She met Freya because she was a transfer student. Pretentious and stuck-up, nobody wanted to be friends with her. She pitied Freya, so she initiated the friendship. She struggled to adjust to her attitude but eventually got used to it. Freya gave her money when she had projects she wanted Isla to do for her.
She had no complaints. Freya had money; she had none, but she was smart, so she was willing to do her projects if the exchange meant she and her mother could eat.
Despite being poor and deprived of a comfortable life, she never envied her friend. What she had was enough. Especially when Marcus courted her. She felt like she hit the lottery jackpot. Marcus was rich, handsome, dashing, and smart. When they graduated from college, her boyfriend entered a large and prestigious company, Sandrid Ventures.
A few years later, he was promoted to supervisor. Marcus was proud of his achievements, and she was proud of him. Their relationship was smooth sailing.
Until last month, Marcus proposed to her.
She was ecstatic until she found out he had married her best friend.
He said Freya was the better life partner for him. He said that for someone like him with high status in society, his wife needed to be the same.
What a fucking excuse!
Was it her fault she was born poor and never knew her father? What hurt more was that her mother died less than six months ago. She was devastated, and the only thing that made her happy again was Marcus’s proposal. But he was cruel.
She was alone now. Fucking money! If you have no money, can’t you be happy? Can’t you be chosen?
So, she decided to wear her most provocative dress and went to the famous Club Axis. She wanted to see how the rich partied. Her chest hurt more until she drank too much alcohol.
She sat drinking alone for a while when a man approached her.
Inside, she was frowning. But instead of scowling at him, she gave him a sweet smile.
“You’re really hot and exactly my type. You want to have sex with me?” he whispered in her ear.
Asshole, she wanted to curse him. “Only if you have 5 mil,” she said, planning to annoy him. Who would spend 5 mil on a woman you just met in a club? Asshole.
“Bitch,” the man said.
“Fuck you,” she said, her voice sexy. A bit hoarse from the drinking. And then she flashed him her most seductive smile.
Good thing the man turned away because she was itching to knee him. She finished the remaining contents of her liquor bottle. When she lifted her face, she noticed the man at the next table.
She noticed him glancing at her earlier. Now, he wasn’t looking. But a second later, he looked at her again. Their eyes met, though she could barely see him due to his hoodie.
Another asshole, her mind supplied. Let me teach him a lesson.
She stood up and approached the man. “Hi, there! You’ve been looking at me. Do you like me?” she asked without restraint.
The man didn’t speak, so she cupped his chin. Because of what she did, she observed the man’s face closely. She was mesmerized. No words could describe the face of this man. He was more than handsome. More than arresting. He was much more handsome than her ex-boyfriend.
She found herself kissing him.
When she pulled away, she saw the look of disgust in his eyes. She was offended. He probably thought she was cheap because she kissed him. She was humiliated.
“Are you rich? You can have sex with me if you have 5 million,” she said mockingly. She said it to cover up her embarrassment. That was supposed to be her closing script.
She was about to turn away when he grabbed her hand.
His grip on her wrist was tight. His jaw clenched. And there was a strange sharpness in his eyes.
“Let me go,” she said.
His eyes glittered dangerously. “I have 5 million.”
