Fiona carried her excitement with her as she stepped out of Isabelle Hotel. She planned to pamper herself first—after all, she had to look perfect for her meeting with Julian Zaavedra later that evening.
Lost in thought, she was startled when a taxi suddenly pulled up beside her.
"Hi, Fiona," greeted Hendrick with a smile, sticking his head out the window.
"What on earth—you scared me!" Fiona clutched her chest, glaring at him.
"You're too jumpy. Your mind was somewhere else when you walked out of Isabelle."
Hmp. None of your business. I'm just excited for my dinner with Mr. Zaavedra.
"Could you please not pop up out of nowhere like that?" she said sharply, widening her eyes at him as he stepped out of the taxi to open the door for her.
This time, Hendrick opened the front seat door. Did he want her to sit next to him?
Without a word, she slid into the seat.
Hendrick pointed at the seatbelt.
"Oh, no. I don't like seatbelts. You're not going to crash us, are you?"
"What's the use of a seatbelt then?" Hendrick's expression hardened, his tone carrying quiet authority.
Grudgingly, Fiona buckled her seatbelt. Hendrick didn't even start the car until she complied.
"I came thirty minutes early," he said proudly as he drove off.
"I never asked you to wait that long, did I? What a waste of your earnings. And don't expect a big tip from me either," Fiona replied coolly, avoiding his gaze.
But no matter how much she tried to ignore him, she couldn't help but notice Hendrick's masculine fragrance. It wasn't the cheap aftershave smell—this was expensive cologne. He was probably the most well-groomed taxi driver she'd ever met.
His uniform always looked freshly pressed. His face was smooth and clean, yet still ruggedly masculine. He looked freshly showered, and something about him made her imagine how it would feel to be locked in his arms.
"Did I ever say I was expecting a tip?" Hendrick shot back. "I just don't want to disappoint you."
"Well, thanks then," Fiona muttered, rolling her eyes inwardly. Trying to impress me, huh?
"I noticed how you were smiling when you walked out of Isabelle," Hendrick remarked. "Did you get a promotion?"
"No. Even better. I'm going to meet my dream man tonight."
"You mean… you haven't met him yet?" Hendrick asked, stealing glances at her as he drove. "I thought you met me yesterday."
She snorted. "That's not funny. Don't try to be cute."
"So who's this dream man you're meeting tonight?"
"Somebody special. The man I've been waiting for all my life."
Fiona caught sight of Hendrick's face as she glanced at him. His smile had faded, and a shadow passed over his expression. He focused on the road, his jaw tight.
"He must be… I mean, what makes him special?" he asked, his eyes fixed ahead.
Fiona smiled dreamily. "He's truly someone special. I hope I can impress him tonight. And eventually… that he'll court me."
"What's so great about this man that you want him to propose so quickly?"
Her brows drew together as she glared at him.
What's it to you? she thought irritably. Nosy man. Always asking questions.
"Mister, let me remind you—your only job is to drive me. It's not your business to pry into my life." Her tone was sharp.
Hendrick's jaw clenched. He looked offended. Clearly, this was a man not used to being talked down to by women.
"By the way, pick me up at six later at the house. You'll drive me back to Isabelle," Fiona instructed.
"Why? Isn't your date going to pick you up?" he asked, pulling the taxi toward her neighborhood.
The question irritated her.
"You know, Hendrick—you'd actually be handsome if only you weren't so nosy. If you want to keep this job, cut back on the gossiping, okay?"
Hendrick braked abruptly, making Fiona lurch forward and nearly slam into the dashboard. He caught her instinctively, though his face remained hard.
"Watch it! Ever heard of slowing down?" she snapped, pulling away. Slinging her black leather shoulder bag, she climbed out of the taxi in annoyance.
---
That evening, Fiona chose a sleek black skirt paired with a red body-fit blouse hidden beneath a tailored blazer.
She tied up her long hair, letting a few strands fall to frame her face, and fixed it with a light mist of spray. Then she applied her own makeup carefully—subtle but striking.
"Where's the date?" asked her stepmother, Nona, noticing how dressed up she was.
Her father had married Nona less than three years ago, and Fiona had been genuinely happy for him. After all, for years, she had seen her father live in quiet sorrow after her mother abandoned them.
Fiona smiled slyly. "Guess who I'm meeting, Tita Nona? A millionaire. A millionaire with a capital M."
"So that's why your eyes are sparkling like that?"
"Because I feel like I'm finally meeting the man I've always dreamed of marrying," Fiona said, standing from the settee and admiring her reflection once more in the mirror. She was satisfied with what she saw.
"Is that still your standard for choosing a man? Just being rich?" Nona asked, her tone laced with curiosity.
"Maybe I'm just being practical, Tita. Ever since I was young, I've dreamed of giving Dad a mansion to live in. All he'll do is clean his Pajero and check on his mango farm. No more exhausting truck drives to Manila delivering fruits and vegetables."
"And is that really the reason? Or is it because you want to prove something to your mother?" Nona asked shrewdly.
"Is my makeup too heavy, Tita? Does it look okay?" Fiona deflected smoothly.
Just then, Hendrick's taxi horn blared outside.
"There's my ride, Tita. Please tell Dad I have a dinner date with an important Isabelle guest." She kissed her stepmother on the cheek and hurried out.
---
Hendrick froze the moment Fiona stepped outside.
She looked stunning. Classy and sophisticated, her beauty shone even brighter tonight. He couldn't take his eyes off her.
She's breathtaking. God, I think I really love this woman.
"Well? Aren't you going to open the door for me?" Fiona teased.
"Huh? Oh—sorry… I was mesmerized. I didn't know you could look this beautiful."
"Well, thanks for the compliment," she replied casually with a shrug.
Soon, they were driving down the highway toward Isabelle Hotel.
"The man you're meeting tonight is really lucky," Hendrick said. "I just wish you'd accept an invitation from me someday too."
Fiona arched an eyebrow, glancing at him. "Is that your way of asking me out?"
"If you'd accept the invitation of a humble taxi driver like me."
"Do you invite all your passengers out to dinner?"
"No. You're the only one I've ever asked."
She smirked faintly. "Well, I'll think about it. Who knows? Maybe one day, I'll say yes."
---
Julian Zaavedra was already waiting in Isabelle Hotel's lobby when Fiona arrived.
"Miss Fiona Guevarra," he greeted warmly. "Hi, I'm Julian Zaavedra."
The man was handsome, though more mature—his features carrying the weight of responsibility and years of running family businesses.
But he isn't as handsome as Hendrick… the thought slipped into Fiona's mind uninvited.
Still, Julian exuded confidence and sophistication.
"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Zaavedra," she said, extending her hand.
"The pleasure is all mine," Julian replied, not letting go of her hand, his gaze fixed intently on her. "Thank you for accepting my dinner invitation."
"My pleasure, Mr. Zaavedra."
Only then did he release her hand and offer his arm. She linked hers through his, and together, they walked toward the restaurant in the hotel's basement.
Royale Cuisine served a wide array of dishes—Japanese, Italian, Chinese, and Filipino.
At their reserved table, a bouquet of flowers was waiting. Julian handed it to Fiona, then pulled out her chair.
"Thank you."
Julian ordered for both of them.
Though Fiona worked at Isabelle, she had never dined at Royale Cuisine—it was far too expensive. Only VIPs and the wealthy could afford it.
She resisted the urge to order extravagantly and allowed Julian to choose.
All throughout dinner, she maintained her poise, careful even with the way she lifted her fork. She was acutely aware of Julian's gaze on her, as though among all the delicacies on the table, she was the most delectable thing.
As the evening drew to a close, Julian began asking her a string of questions—like an interviewer assessing an applicant.
Then came the final question that left Fiona stunned.
"Do you believe that when two people like and understand each other, courtship and engagement shouldn't take long?"
"What do you mean, Julian?"
"I'm a straightforward man, Fiona. It comes naturally from being a businessman. The moment I laid eyes on you, I told myself—you're the woman I want. The woman I want in my arms every night, the woman I want to see every morning when I wake up."
Fiona froze. Was he… proposing marriage?
"I like you, Fiona. And I don't want to waste time. If you like me too, I want to know right away. Then I'll marry you."
She was speechless. She had wished for Julian's proposal to come quickly—but this fast?
Before she could answer, Julian clasped her hand and drew out a box from his pocket. Inside was a diamond-studded gold bracelet, which he slipped onto her wrist.
Fiona stared at it in disbelief.
"Is this… mine?" she whispered.
"Yes. It's yours. I knew it would look perfect on your arm." He lifted her hand and kissed it, his eyes never leaving hers.
She was overwhelmed. Was this real? The man she dreamed of marrying was already offering her his love—and marriage?
"Wow, Fiona! You're so lucky. Mr. Julian Zaavedra really fell for you," Margie's voice echoed in her memory.
She couldn't believe it. Was Julian truly in love with her?
But what should she say to his sudden proposal?