Lina's POV
I wake up to the smell of coffee and something that might be pancakes, which is impossible because Rio doesn't cook. He barely eats breakfast, usually just grabbing coffee on his way to destroy someone's quarterly projections.
Padding to the kitchen in my silk robe—another expensive addition to my wardrobe courtesy of Rio's assistant—I find him standing at the stove, actually flipping what look like perfect golden pancakes. He's wearing dark jeans and a white button-down with the sleeves rolled up, looking more relaxed than I've ever seen him.
"You cook?" I ask, still not quite believing what I'm seeing.
He glances over his shoulder, and something soft flickers across his face before the usual mask slides back into place. "My mother taught me. She said a man who couldn't feed himself was a man who'd always be dependent on others."
There's pain in his voice when he mentions her, the kind of deep ache that never fully heals. I want to reach for him, to offer comfort, but the careful distance he put between us last night still hangs in the air.
"Coffee's fresh," he says, nodding toward the machine. "We need to talk about today."
Right. Today. The day I meet Teodoro Kalinawan, the man whose approval could make or break everything Rio has worked for.
"How nervous should I be?" I ask, pouring coffee into the mug he's set out for me. It's exactly how I like it—cream, no sugar. When did he learn that?
"Teodoro is... traditional. Old-school Filipino values, but he's been in America long enough to appreciate independence in women. He'll ask personal questions. About your family, your intentions, your character." Rio plates the pancakes with movements that are surprisingly graceful. "He'll be testing whether you're worthy of the Kalinawan name."
"And if I'm not?"
Rio's jaw tightens. "Then we're both screwed."
The pancakes are perfect, fluffy and light with just a hint of vanilla. I take a bite and can't help the small moan of appreciation that escapes me. When I look up, Rio is watching me with an intensity that makes heat pool in my stomach.
"Good?" he asks, his voice slightly rough.
"Your mother taught you well."
Something vulnerable flashes in his eyes before he looks away. "She taught me a lot of things. Most of which I've forgotten in favor of being ruthless."
"You're not ruthless with me."
The words slip out before I can stop them, honest and soft in the morning light. Rio goes very still, his coffee cup halfway to his lips.
"Aren't I?" he asks quietly.
Rio's POV
The drive to Napa Valley should take two hours. I've made it in ninety minutes before, but today I find myself driving slower, reluctant to reach our destination. Beside me, Lina stares out the window at the rolling vineyards, her hands twisted in her lap.
She's wearing a simple sundress in soft blue that brings out her eyes, her hair pulled back in a way that makes her look younger, more vulnerable. Every few minutes, she takes a deep breath like she's preparing for battle.
"Tell me about him," she says finally. "Not the business stuff. The personal things I should know."
I consider how much to reveal. Teodoro raised me after my father abandoned us, but he did it with the emotional warmth of a military commander. Love was shown through high expectations and stern lectures about honor and responsibility.
"He lost his wife—my grandmother—when I was twelve. They were married for forty-three years, and he never looked at another woman after she died. He believes marriage is sacred, permanent. The kind of commitment that survives anything."
"Including death, apparently."
"Including death." I glance at her profile. "He'll want to know that what we have is real. That it will last."
"And how exactly do we convince him of something we're not even sure of ourselves?"
The question hangs between us like a challenge. Because she's right—what we have is becoming something neither of us can define or control.
"We tell him the truth," I say finally.
"Which is?"
I pull into the circular drive of the Kalinawan estate, the sprawling Spanish-style mansion where I spent my teenage years learning to bury every emotion that made me weak. "That whatever this started as, it's become something else entirely."
Lina's POV
Teodoro Kalinawan is not what I expected. He's smaller than Rio, maybe five-foot-seven in his elegant leather shoes, with silver hair and kind eyes that miss nothing. When he takes my hand in both of his, his grip is firm but gentle.
"So," he says in accented English, "you are the woman who has tamed my grandson."
"I wouldn't say tamed," I reply with a smile. "More like... temporarily distracted."
He throws back his head and laughs, a rich sound that fills the foyer. "I like her already, Emilio."
Rio's hand finds the small of my back, warm and possessive. "I told you she was special, Lolo."
Hearing Rio use the Filipino term for grandfather does something to my chest. There's affection in his voice, respect, but also a careful distance that speaks of years of trying to earn approval.
"Come," Teodoro says, leading us through rooms filled with family photos and Filipino artifacts. "Lunch is ready, and I want to hear everything about how you two met."
We settle on a terrace overlooking the vineyards, the table set with his grandmother's china and fresh flowers from the garden. As Teodoro pours wine—a vintage from his own vines—Rio launches into our rehearsed story.
"We met at a cardiac research fundraiser," Rio says, his hand covering mine on the table. "Lina was there representing her marketing firm's pro bono work."
"What drew you to healthcare marketing?" Teodoro asks me, and I can feel him studying my face for signs of deception.
"My father had a heart attack when I was twenty-two," I say, the truth spilling out easier than any lie. "Watching him navigate the medical system, seeing how confused and scared he was by all the technical language... I realized how much good marketing could do. Not selling, but translating. its about helping people understand their options."
Teodoro nods approvingly. "And what did you think of my grandson when you first met him?"
I glance at Rio, seeing something vulnerable in his expression. "Honestly? I thought he was arrogant and probably used to getting his way."
Teodoro's eyebrows shoot up, and I hear Rio's sharp intake of breath.
"But then," I continue, "he started talking about his mother. About how every innovation he creates is to honor her memory. And I realized that underneath all that confidence was a man driven by love and loss. The arrogance was just... armor."
The silence stretches long enough that I wonder if I've said too much. Then Teodoro reaches across the table and pats my hand.
"You see him clearly," he says with satisfaction. "Good. Too many people see only the success, not the man who earned it."
Rio's POV
Lunch passes easier than I expected. Lina charms Teodoro with stories about her family, her work, her dreams of starting her own firm. She asks intelligent questions about his vineyards, his journey from the Philippines to America, his late wife. By the time we move to the garden for coffee, he's looking at her like she's already family.
"Walk with me, Emilio," he says, leaving Lina to admire the rose garden my grandmother planted decades ago.
We stroll the grounds in comfortable silence until we reach the small chapel where my grandparents were married, where my grandmother's memorial service was held.
"She's good for you," Teodoro says finally.
"Sir?"
"Catalina. She softens the edges you've sharpened too keen." He stops walking, turning to face me. "You smile when you look at her. Real smiles, not the ones you use in boardrooms."
I want to tell him it's all performance, that my feelings aren't involved. But standing here, in the place where my grandmother taught me that love was worth any sacrifice, I can't make the words come.
"The investment, Lolo. Will you—"
"The investment was decided weeks ago," he interrupts. "Your cardiac technology is brilliant, and it will save lives. That's what matters."
My world tilts. "Then why—"
"Because I needed to know you were still human underneath all that ambition." His eyes are bright with unshed tears. "Your grandmother made me promise, before she died, that I wouldn't let you become so focused on success that you forgot how to live. How to love."
The words hit me like a physical blow. All this time, I thought I was performing for his approval, when he was actually testing whether I still had a heart worth saving.
"She's not just a business arrangement, is she?" he asks gently.
I look back toward the house, where Lina is probably charming the gardener and asking about the orchids. Even from here, I can see her animated gestures, the genuine interest she shows in everyone she meets.
"No," I admit quietly. "She's not."
"Then don't lose her to your fear of being vulnerable. Some women are worth the risk, Emilio. And that one? She's worth everything."
Lina's POV
When Rio and Teodoro return from their walk, something has shifted in Rio's expression. He looks... lighter somehow. Less guarded. When he settles beside me on the garden bench, his arm comes around me in a way that feels natural rather than performed.
"Did I pass the test?" I ask Teodoro with a smile.
"With flying colors," he assures me. "Though I suspect the real question is whether my grandson passed yours."
I look up at Rio, seeing something new in his dark eyes. Something that looks like hope mixed with fear.
"He's getting there," I say softly.
Teodoro laughs. "Spoken like a woman who knows her worth. Good. Never let him forget how lucky he is."
"I won't," I promise, and I mean it.
The drive home is tense despite the successful meeting. Rio sits beside me in the back of the car, but he's already retreated behind his phone, firing off emails and barking orders at his assistant through his Bluetooth. The warm, attentive fiancé from lunch has vanished the moment we left Teodoro's sight.
"Patricia, I want the Henderson contracts on my desk first thing Monday," he says curtly. "And tell the development team their latest iteration is garbage. They have seventy-two hours to fix it or I'm bringing in outside consultants."
I stare out the window, trying not to let his coldness affect me. This is who he really is—the man who views everything as a transaction, including our arrangement. The gentle touches and loving words at lunch were just another business performance.
When we arrive back at the penthouse, Rio strides ahead without waiting for me, already on another call. I follow behind like an afterthought, carrying my own purse while he barks orders about market analysis and quarterly projections.
"James, I don't care if it's Saturday night," he snaps into his phone as we enter the elevator. "Get me those reports by midnight or don't bother coming in Monday."
In the penthouse, he heads straight to his home office without a word to me. I can hear him through the door, his voice cutting and merciless as he destroys someone's weekend plans with demands for revised proposals and overnight analyses.
I went back to my guest room, feeling a bit silly for thinking that the nice moments we shared at lunch were actually real. Then Maria comes in after knocking softly on the door. Maria hands me a cup of tea and offers a warm, understanding smile.
"He's always like this after family visits," she says softly. "When he opens up, he becomes even more guarded afterward."
"He's just like that," I say to Maria with a smile.
Maria thinks for a moment. "Maybe he just forgot," she says gently