VIAQUEZA ESTATE

VANESSA

She was about to go for her morning run when her phone screen lit up.

One missed call.
One message.

From Vincent.

"Call me when you get this."

Vanessa frowned, swiping to call him back.

The phone rang twice before someone picked up.

But it wasn’t Vincent.

"Vanessa, dear! Good morning."

Vanessa froze. That was not Vincent’s voice.

It was Rose Rickarte.

Rose and Vanessa would usually meet up in social gatherings, but their peers are not really the same.

With Vanessa being the well-kept daughter of her husband’s archnemesis, it was appropriate to steer clear of each other in polite society, so to speak.

"Um… Rose?" Vanessa said cautiously, sitting up straighter.

"Yes, darling. Vincent is in the library with Marisse right now, so he asked me to take the call."

Vanessa blinked. Vincent asks his president’s wife to take his calls now?

"I see," she said carefully.

"Actually," Rose continued, her tone light, "why don’t you come over for lunch here tomorrow? We’ll be starting by 11:00. "

Vanessa hesitated.

Lunch?

At the Rickarte estate?

Rose chuckled, as if sensing her doubt.

"It’s just lunch, dear. Unless… do you need to talk to Vincent over the phone now?"

Vanessa exhaled, shaking her head.

"No, it’s okay. I’ll see him at work. And yes, thank you for your invitation, I’ll come."

"Wonderful!" Rose said brightly. "See you soon."

As the call ended, Vanessa stared at her phone for a long moment, a strange mix of curiosity and apprehension curling in her stomach.

Vanessa had spent months now maneuvering through Vincent’s world. Unraveling cyber threats, dodging power plays, and resisting the dangerous pull between them.

But this?

This felt different.

Meanwhile, at the Rickarte estate, Vincent stepped out of the library, rolling his shoulders as he made his way to the sunlit breakfast nook where Rose was leisurely sipping her tea.

"Who was that?" he asked casually.

Rose barely looked up as she set her teacup down.

"Vanessa."

Vincent stilled.

"Vanessa?"

Rose nodded. “She’s coming over for lunch tomorrow.”

Vincent’s eyes narrowed slightly. "You invited her?"

Rose smiled sweetly, tilting her head. “Yes.”

Vincent exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose. "And why exactly?"

Rose’s smile turned teasing.

"Because all morning over breakfast, you were ‘Vanessa this’ and ‘Vanessa that’ like a love-struck teenager." She leaned back, folding her arms. "So, I got curious."

Vincent scowled. “I was not---”

"Oh, you absolutely were."

Vincent clenched his jaw.

Rose sighed dramatically, giving him a knowing look. "So, naturally, I invited her over. Is there a problem?"

Vincent was silent for a moment.

Then he exhaled, shaking his head. “No. No problem.”

But the way Rose smirked over her teacup told him she knew better.

******

Later that day, while Vincent and Vanessa worked together still in the war room, both instinctively tried to keep the conversation neutral, skirting around the topic of the lunch invitation.

Silence lingered between them until Rachelyn, the PR strategist, approached with a bright smile.

“Perfect timing!” Rachelyn clapped her hands together. “I was just about to ask, can I get some pictures of you two with the rest of the RPV2 shareholders and their families during your lunch tomorrow? It’d be great for the press.”

Both Vanessa and Vincent stiffened.

Vanessa forced a polite smile. “Oh… uh---”

“Sure,” Vincent interrupted, cutting off whatever excuse she was about to make.

Rachelyn grinned. “Great! I’ll set it up later.” With that, she walked off, leaving the two standing in the awkward aftermath of her request.

Vanessa cleared her throat. “So… that’s happening.”

Vincent exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah.”

Another awkward pause. Then, in a rare moment of ease, Vincent turned to her. “You know, since we’re both going to the lunch anyway… we might as well go together.”

Vanessa blinked in surprise, then nodded. “That… makes sense.”

“Sure.”

“Fine.”

Neither of them knew what else to say.

******

The Morning of the Lunch

Vincent was halfway through his morning routine when he caught the scent of something rich, warm, and completely out of place in the Viaqueza estate.

Vanilla. Chocolate. Cinnamon.

His stomach reacted before his brain did, leading him straight to the kitchen, where he found Vanessa standing at the counter, pulling a tray of golden-brown cookies from the oven.

She looked up, caught off guard. “Oh. Morning.”

Vincent crossed his arms, eyes scanning the counter stacks of cookies, cooling racks, and a neatly arranged rattan tray. "What the hell is all this?"

Vanessa dusted her hands off on a kitchen towel. "I figured I’d bring something to lunch."

Vincent arched a brow. "Since when do you bake?"

Vanessa shrugged. "Since I realized that showing up empty-handed to a Rickarte family lunch would probably be frowned upon. I wasn’t sure about their diet restrictions, so I made a few different batches."

Before she could stop him, Vincent reached out and grabbed a cookie. He bit into it without ceremony, expecting just another decent attempt at homemade sweets.

Instead…Damn.

His jaw stilled mid-chew. The mix of dark chocolate and sea salt hit first, followed by the warmth of cinnamon and something he couldn’t quite place, but whatever it was, it worked. Too well.

Vanessa raised an eyebrow. "Uh…?"

Vincent swallowed, then looked at her. "Where the hell have you been all my life?"

She blinked. "Did you just---?"

A laugh, unguarded and real, slipped past her lips before she could stop it.

Vincent froze.

She had never laughed like that around him before. Not this soft, not this genuine.

And for some goddamn reason, it made something tighten in his chest.

Shit.

Vanessa cleared her throat, suddenly flustered. "We should… probably get going."

Vincent rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah."

They both moved at the same time, and for a split second, their hands brushed against each other.

Neither of them acknowledged it.

But they both felt it.

*******

The Rickarte estate was exactly what Vanessa expected. Powerful.

White stone walls, sprawling gardens, and a driveway lined with century-old mango trees. It wasn’t ostentatious, but it didn’t need to be. It exuded old money, the kind that didn’t flaunt itself, because it didn’t have to.

As they approached the grand doors, they swung open to reveal Marisse V. Rickarte himself.

Tall. Imposing. The kind of man who could silence a room just by walking into it.

Beside him stood Rose Rickarte, elegance wrapped in quiet authority.

And just behind them, two more figures, Andrew Pelquiejo and his wife Caleta.

Andrew stood with the ease of a man who had never had to fight for wealth because it had always been his. He was one of the Four Knights of RPV2 Holdings, but unlike Marisse’s sharp dominance or Vincent’s quiet ruthlessness, Andrew had the effortless charm of a man who had never needed to prove himself. He was dressed in a crisp white linen shirt, sleeves casually rolled, a knowing smile playing at his lips.

Beside him, Caleta Pelquiejo was equally striking, dark hair swept up in an elegant twist, her deep brown eyes missing nothing. She was more than just a wife to one of the wealthiest men in the country, she was a force in her own right.

Vanessa barely had time to take them in before a small figure rushed forward.

"Kuya Vincii!"

A blur of movement, a tiny body launching itself at Vincent.

And what did he do?

He caught her. Effortlessly.

Vanessa stared.

Vincent Viaqueza…syndicate lord, master hacker, ruthless kingmaker…was smiling.

A real smile.

Not a smirk. Not that calculated charm he used when he wanted something.

A real, genuine fucking smile.

It did something strange to Vanessa’s chest.

"Easy, little bee," Vincent murmured, ruffling the little girl’s hair.

Beside them, the older child; a boy who looked about ten, smirked at Vanessa. "You’re new."

Vanessa arched a brow. "Observant."

The kid’s smirk deepened. Vincent’s smirk.

Behind him, Voltaire Viaqueza stepped into the sunlight, watching the moment unfold with a faint smile of his own. He was dressed more casually than usual. Charcoal pants, open-collared shirt, sleeves pushed to his elbows. If Vincent was ice, Voltaire was silk, tempered by a different kind of ruthlessness.

But right now?

He looked… relaxed.

Especially when no one seemed to be watching, except Vanessa.

There was something in the way his gaze softened as Vincent nuzzled the top of Emilia’s head. And when Emilia wiggled to jump down and tugged on Voltaire’s hand next, he bent without hesitation, scooping her up and letting her settle on his hip like it was second nature.

"You’ll spoil her," Vincent muttered.

"She’s already spoiled. I’m just maintaining the standard," Voltaire replied smoothly, brushing Emilia’s curls from her face as she giggled and whispered something in his ear.

Before the conversation could continue, Rose spoke up.

"It’s wonderful to finally have you here, Vanessa."

Vanessa, still slightly off balance, forced a polite smile. "Thank you for the invitation, Señora Rose. I, uh… made cookies."

She held out the rattan tray, but before Rose could take it, the boy snatched it.

"I call dibs on the chocolate chip! Please tell me you made some."

Vanessa blinked. "A whole lot of them."

The boy grinned, immediately inspecting the tray.

Vincent shook his head. "Jesus, Emmanuel, at least pretend to have manners."

Marisse chuckled. "He’s a Rickarte, Viaqueza. Manners are optional."

From the corner of her eye, Vanessa caught Andrew exchanging an amused glance with Caleta, who sighed in mock exasperation. "Another child with a bottomless appetite. Wonderful."

Vanessa didn’t know what to expect from the RPV2 shareholders.

But what she saw over lunch?

It wasn’t just a business empire.

It was family.

They dined under the shade of a massive acacia tree, the sound of laughter and clinking glasses filling the warm afternoon air.

Men who ruled industries and underground territories alike sat together—not as rivals, but as brothers.

There was no pretense. No power plays.

Just unshaken loyalty.

Across the table, Marisse leaned back, swirling his glass.

"So, Vincent," he mused. "I’m glad you made it to lunch this week. And thank you for coming too, Vanessa. I’m glad the family seems to be growing."

The words were casual.

The weight behind them was not.

Vincent didn’t glance at Vanessa, but she felt the shift in the air.

Felt him considering.

Then, he exhaled. Tilted his glass slightly.

"I’m glad I made it too."

A few raised brows around the table.

Vincent Viaqueza, gambler, kingmaker, strategist; was acknowledging something he couldn’t control.

Vanessa’s fingers tightened around her fork.

She wasn’t sure what to make of that.

Rose, across from them, smiled slightly.

Vincent let the silence linger before smirking. "But honestly, I just missed Rose’s cooking."

Rose stilled.

Then, for the first time that day, her usual composure wavered.

Her eyes wrinkled as she scolded Vincent. "No need to pull my leg, Vinnie. I’ll let you go home with a takeout."

The table erupted in laughter.

Andrew lifted his glass. "We all do. That’s why we show up, after all."

Caleta leaned toward Vanessa. "Vincent doesn’t throw praise around lightly. If he says he missed someone’s cooking, that’s practically a love confession."

Vanessa smirked. "Duly noted."

She was still processing all of it. The warmth, the loyalty, the way even Marisse, for all his terrifying power, laughed without restraint.

She had spent months maneuvering through Vincent’s world.

But this?

This felt different.

*******