VIAQUEZA ESTATE

At the Balcony of the Living Room

“You think I called you out here to bark orders?” Vincent murmured, offering her the drink. “I called you to prep you. Tomorrow, you meet the rest of RPV2. If you’re going to survive what’s coming, you need to be ready.”

Vanessa took the glass slowly, fingers brushing his. Her pulse thudded in her neck.

“And here I thought you just liked the sound of my heels on marble.”

He smirked again. That damn smirk. But it was softer this time, like he was choosing not to armor up all the way.

“I let you in, didn’t I?”

Their eyes locked.

Another gust of warm wind swept past, tousling her hair, making her dress ripple like smoke.

Neither of them moved.

The city below kept breathing.

But for a second it felt like time pressed pause. Just long enough for something dangerous to begin.

Vincent leaned against the railing beside her, eyes on the city. “You want a seat at the table? Prove you're not just passing through. I need to know you’re in this for real.”

She looked at him, glass still untouched. “And if I walk away?”

“You won't.” His voice was even. “Because you’re tired of being your father’s weapon. And because you know I don’t see you as a pawn. I see you as a queen.”

That shook her more than she wanted it to.

“Careful,” she said, voice sharp. “That almost sounded like trust.”

He turned to her, eyes narrowing slightly.

“I don’t trust anyone,” he said. “But I respect power. And you have it.”

She finally sipped the drink. Cold, biting. Like the truth between them.

“You want respect?” she said. “Then stop playing games. Don’t test me just to see how far I’ll go.”

He stepped closer, the tension snapping taut between them again. She could smell the whiskey on his breath, could feel the heat rolling off him.

“Stop intimidating me then,” he murmured. “You’re already sexy as hell. You don’t need the extra edge.”

Vanessa’s smile was tight. “You flirt when you’re nervous.”

Vincent’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I flirt when I’m outmatched.”

A beat passed between them. Then two.

“But I’m not scared of you, Vanessa,” he added. “I’m scared of what you make me want.”

Her breath caught because that was too close to the truth.

For both of them.

She turned back to the skyline, needing the distance. Needing air.

“I don’t want to be your weakness,” she whispered.

“Too late,” he said quietly.

They stood in silence after that, the city pulsing below them like a second heart.

Finally, she spoke. “But you said you don’t trust anyone. Not even me?”

He looked at her then, really looked.

“I trust that you’ll do what’s best for you. And I can work with that.”

It wasn’t love. It wasn’t surrender.

But it was honest.

And for now, that was enough.

Vanessa nodded, more to herself than to him.

“Then we understand each other.”

Vincent raised his glass. “To dangerous alliances.”

She clinked her drink against his. “To rewriting the rules.”

And with that, she turned and walked back inside, never looking back.

Vincent watched her go; his expression unreadable.

He didn’t follow.

But he didn’t stop watching, either.

******

RPV2 Tower, the Executive Floor

Vincent took Vanessa to a meeting she hadn't been expecting.

The RPV2 executive suite was sleek and modern but heavy with something else. Power. Control. Loyalty.

She recognized Marcus immediately, RPV2's Head of IT, calm and calculating.

Then there was Voltaire. Older, shrewd, watching her like she was a problem that needed solving.

And seated beside him, with a glass of whiskey in hand and an air of effortless sophistication, was Andrew Pelquiejo. The fourth shareholder of RPV2 Holdings. Unlike the Viaquezas, whose fame and fortune had been built on Philippine logistics in the last half-century, Andrew's wealth was old. Generational. Dating back to the Spanish Inquisition, when his ancestors were already moving in powerful circles.

A philanthropist, a gentleman, and the most diplomatic of the four Knights of RPV2.

Vincent leaned back in his chair, completely at ease. "Gentlemen. You've all met Vanessa Zaragoza."

His next words were casual but held a weight that made her breath hitch.

"Meet my brother, Voltaire Viaqueza."

Voltaire's dark gaze swept over her, assessing. Unlike Vincent, whose charm softened his sharp edges, Voltaire didn't bother. He was all angles, direct and cold.

"So this is Don Jayme's rebel daughter," he mused.

Vanessa raised her chin. "And you're the twin who keeps his hands clean."

Vincent let out a quiet chuckle.

Voltaire smirked. "You have nerve. Let's see if you have skill."

And then---

A voice rang through the room, cutting through the quiet like a blade.

Marisse V. Rickarte.

President of RPV2 Holdings.

He stood near the floor-to-ceiling windows, watching the city below as if it all belonged to him.

When he finally turned, his gaze locked onto Vanessa like a hammer striking an anvil.

"If you're going to play this game, you'd better do it right."

His voice wasn't smooth like Vincent's, nor detached like Voltaire's. It was heavy with absolute authority. An expectation, not a suggestion.

Vanessa exhaled slowly, steadying herself.

This wasn't just a meeting.

This was a proving ground.

Vincent had finally let her in.

Now, she had to make sure she stayed in.

And more importantly, that she didn't let him discover just how much she already knew.

******

They led her to a separate chamber. A minimalist room with a sleek, unmarked terminal at its center. The walls were lined with encrypted servers, their quiet hum filling the silence.

Vincent stood by the doorway, watching her with that infuriating patience, like a predator waiting to see if its prey would run or fight.

"Simple challenge, Prinsesa," he murmured. "Find the leak in our system. If you can."

Vanessa turned to him, her smirk sharp. "That's it?"

Voltaire chuckled. "She's confident. That's cute."

Vanessa ignored him.

She took the seat before the terminal, fingers ghosting over the keyboard.

Vincent had thrown her into this to gauge her skill.

Fine.

She would show him exactly what he was dealing with.

Her fingers moved fast, a familiar rhythm surging through her as she bypassed the standard firewalls. The system was good; layered with redundancies, tripwires, automated alerts.

But it wasn't perfect.

The flaw wasn't in their security, it was in their overconfidence.

Vanessa tilted her head, lips curling.

Someone had left a backdoor open.

She glanced at Vincent. "Tell me, Viaqueza, do you usually let your men get this sloppy?"

His brows lifted, amusement flickering in his gaze.

Marisse, on the other hand, narrowed his eyes. "Explain."

Vanessa leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. "You have a ghost in your system. A silent one. They're not taking data; they're watching."

Silence.

Marcus frowned, stepping forward. "How do you know that?"

Vanessa tapped the screen, bringing up an almost imperceptible set of code strings. "Because I've used the same trick before."

Vincent's expression didn't change, but she knew that look in his eyes.

Recognition.

Confirmation.

He had suspected her involvement in the attack from the start.

And now, she had just given him another reason to be sure.

Damn it.

She had played into his hands.

Andrew, who had been quiet until now, finally spoke, his voice smooth, measured. "Impressive." He swirled his whiskey before taking a slow sip. "I do appreciate a woman who knows how to outmaneuver her opponents."

Unlike the others, his approval wasn't cold or calculating. It was genuine.

Vincent smirked. "Well, well. Seems our little Prinsesa is full of surprises."

Vanessa clenched her jaw. "Are you going to keep playing games, or are we going to track this bastard?"

Vincent chuckled, stepping closer. "Welcome to RPV2 Holdings, Vanessa."

Marisse watched Vincent as the others left the room.

Vanessa had proven herself, and Vincent had given his usual cryptic approval. But Marisse wasn't a man who indulged in illusions.

He dealt in absolutes.

He saw patterns where others saw chaos. He saw weaknesses where others saw potential.

And right now, he saw something brewing in Vincent. Something dangerous.

Vincent wasn't just intrigued by the girl.

He was invested.

Marisse exhaled, slow and deliberate, as he stepped toward Vincent's desk. His fingers tapped against the polished wood once. Twice.

Vincent didn't look up from his whiskey.

"You knew she had skills." Marisse's voice was measured, but edged with something sharper. "You made her prove it anyway."

Vincent took a sip, silent.

Marisse's gaze flicked toward Vanessa's empty glass. "Cuba Libre, huh?"

Vincent finally glanced at him. The question wasn't casual, and they both knew it.

Marisse smirked, though there was nothing amused about it. "I didn't realize we were pampering our assets now."

Vincent exhaled, setting his drink down. "I take care of what's mine."

Marisse arched a brow. "Yours?"

Vincent's smirk was unreadable. "For now."

Marisse studied him for a long moment. Then, he shook his head with a quiet laugh, one devoid of warmth.

"Don't get sloppy, Vincent."

His voice dropped lower, rougher. "You and I both know what happens when you start thinking with your cock instead of your head."

Vincent's jaw ticked, but he said nothing.

Marisse leaned in slightly, his presence heavier than before. "You want to keep her? Fine. But don't forget who you are. Who we are."

Vincent's silence was answer enough.

Marisse stepped back, straightening his cuffs. "Keep her in line. Or I will."

And with that, he walked out, leaving Vincent staring at the empty glass on his desk.

Andrew lingered a moment longer, his gaze unreadable.

Then, with a small smirk, he lifted his glass toward Vincent. "Be careful, my friend. Sometimes, the most dangerous game is the one you don't realize you're already playing."

He took a slow sip before following Marisse out.

Vincent exhaled, rubbing his temple.

Vanessa Zaragoza was becoming a problem.

And for the first time in years, he wasn't sure if he wanted to fix it.

*******