Matthew Tenorio didn't believe in coincidences. In his world, a coincidence was just a security leak you hadn't patched yet.
Weeks before Joie had even officially introduced Alliana to the family, Timothy had already pulled the "Digital Dossier." While Steph was looking for political liabilities and Timothy was scanning for data breaches, Matt's eyes had lingered on the girl standing next to Alliana in a grainy social media photo.
She was laughing, a drink in her hand, looking entirely too bright for the dark world the Tenorios inhabited.
"Who's the friend?" Matt had asked, leaning over Timothy's shoulder.
"Cheska. Marketing major. Normal family, no criminal record, clean as a whistle," Timothy muttered.
"She's pretty," Matt said, the thought tucking itself away in the predatory part of his brain.
The Bait
Three weeks later, Matt was at The Obsidian, his private club in BGC. He was sitting in the VIP loft, shrouded in shadows and expensive gin, when he saw her.
Cheska walked in with a group of friends, looking slightly out of place but determined to enjoy herself. She was wearing a simple black dress that hugged her curves in all the right places, her hair falling in waves over her shoulders.
Matt didn't wait. He didn't play the long game. He set his glass down and descended the stairs with a shark-like grace. He intercepted her at the bar just as she was ordering a gin and tonic.
"Hi," he said, his voice a low, smooth vibration that cut through the bass of the music.
Cheska turned, blinking up at him. She didn't know him. She didn't know he was a Tenorio. She just saw a man who looked like he owned the building and everything inside it.
"Hi," she replied, a small, curious smile playing on her lips.
"The gin here is terrible," Matt lied easily, leaning against the bar to box her in. "Let me get you something better. My private stash."
Cheska tilted her head, her eyes scanning his face. She was a marketing major; she knew when she was being sold something, but for some reason, she didn't mind the pitch. "And who are you? The owner?"
"Something like that," Matt smiled. He didn't tell her he already knew her name. He didn't tell her he knew her favorite coffee shop or that her best friend was currently falling for his sister. He just held out a hand. "I'm Matt."
The Night
The "something better" turned into an entire bottle of vintage champagne in a corner booth where the music was a distant hum. Matt was a master of conversation, pulling stories out of her while revealing absolutely nothing about himself. He watched the way she moved, the way she laughed, and for the first time in years, he wasn't thinking about "logistics."
By 2:00 AM, the tension between them was a physical weight.
"You're very dangerous, Matt," Cheska whispered, her face inches from his. "I can tell. You have that look."
"Is that a warning or an invitation, Cheska?"
She didn't ask how he knew her name. The alcohol had blurred the edges of the night, and the pull of the man in front of her was too strong to resist. "Maybe both."
The Surrender
The ride to his penthouse was a blur of hands and bated breath in the back of a tinted SUV. Once the door clicked shut behind them, the "slow burn" ignited into a flash fire.
Matt pinned her against the door, his hands tangling in her hair as he kissed her with a hunger that surprised even him. This wasn't a transaction. It wasn't "mutual benefits." It was raw, unadulterated need.
He lifted her, her legs wrapping around his waist, and carried her to the bedroom. The moonlight through the floor-to-ceiling windows painted her skin in silver. Matt was precise, his touch clinical yet worshipful, exploring every inch of her as if he were trying to memorize a map.
Cheska met him move for move, her hands dragging over the muscles of his back, her soft moans filling the quiet room. When they finally merged, it wasn't just a physical act; it was a collision of two worlds that should never have met. Matt felt a shift in his chest—a "pull" that felt dangerously like a tether.
In the quiet aftermath, as Cheska lay sleeping with her head on his chest, Matt watched the sun begin to rise over the Manila skyline.
He was supposed to let her go. This was supposed to be a one-night stand—a curiosity satisfied. But as he watched the steady rise and fall of her breath, he knew he was already calculating how to keep her.
It was a one-night stand. But for Matthew Tenorio, it was the first night of the rest of his life.