Beneath the Billionaire's Heart

ve the Makati skyline. For Amira Dela Cruz, it might as well have b

heels. Her portfolio folder was clutched tight to her chest like a shield. Around her, sharply dre

cause of one th

g room of the most elite creative agency in the country. Monteverde Creatives was owned by the infam

icles. He looked like a man carved from marble: sharp jaw,

eptionist called. "Mr. Mo

. "Wait... hi

ing to her shoes, then her thrift-s

allway. The doors to the CEO's office opened, and the first thing sh

hing she not

s rolled to the elbows, stood behind his desk, fl

l eyes met hers, u

His voice was lo

es under the chair. She hadn't expected

asked, holding up a sa

s,

the level of someone with

-taught. No formal educatio

He slid the folder aside. "Te

best. And I want to prove I belong he

s face just for a s

. Design assistant.

off the chair. "

he said simply. "Be early. Be

roze.

e better than you. Especially the ones who wear diamonds to w

Elian Monteverde tur

ealized the office was more tha

oth the fiancée of her boss and an unofficial queen bee in the company's social circles. She

it out loud, but the icy glances and pass

d late, picked up slack others left behi

ght, everyt

ago, but Amira stayed behind, tweaking a c

rs," she muttered, adjusti

rough the sile

d and the

y, jacket off, sleeves rolled,

ir. I wanted to get this j

the screen. "You adjusted the s

ed, hear

ything, Amira," he said, so

d quietly. "I'm just... trying to d

oser. "You

as a lo

ht of his gaze. H

, before either of them co

deepened, urgent, electric. Like something that h

art, breathless, Am

d go," she

an didn

er di

ething sharp and invisible. Amira walked in

eone ha

e alwa

lose friend, had been in the building late

risse had the pho

was about t