This Crazy Rich Boy

Claire doesn't know what to say. Or what to expect. Where's Matilde Tan? Where's the grand iron lady, the matriarch of the Tan clan? She came here fully expecting to meet ugly things. Instead, what she encounters is someone who makes her jaws drop.

"Hello, Gabriel!" The man is all smiles as he gives Gabriel a big hug. "It has been a long time."

Gabriel laughs, then turns to her. "Claire, I'd like you to meet Miguel, my younger brother."

"Your—" Claire's brow is knitted in confusion even as Miguel shakes her hand, if too enthusiastically.

"So you're the incredibly lucky girl," Miguel says, his eyes holding her gaze.

"I…I'm not…I mean…"

"I know," Gabriel says. "Not what you expected. But that was what I was trying to tell you a while ago."

"Mom couldn't make it," Miguel offers. "She has to spend a few more weeks in that hotel in Switzerland to calm her nerves. Her ulcer is acting up again. Her doctor recommends staying away from stress as much as possible."

"And this is supposedly stressful," Gabriel mutters, shaking his head.

"Well, you know how Mom is," Miguel says. "Always so controlling, even when her body could no longer keep up."

"Wait," Claire says, "do you mean your mom isn't coming tonight?"

Gabriel makes a big shrug. "You got lucky, I guess?"

"And she won't be able to come for at least a couple of weeks?"

"Yeah."

That means there's a big chance Claire won't even have to meet the iron lady at all—by the time Matilde Tan has fully recovered, Claire's "work arrangement" with Gabriel would be over, and it would be up to her son to do all the explaining. She couldn't help but smile at the thought.

"Why are you smiling?" Gabriel says as they take their places at the dining table.

It's Claire's turn this time to make a big shrug. "I guess I got lucky, indeed."

The restaurant's staff begin bringing in food. Gabriel mentions it's going to be an amazing five-course dinner, but Claire still couldn't move on. Besides, she couldn't stop staring at Miguel's face. She didn't expect nature could still improve upon Gabriel's looks, but here Miguel is: a more angelic, sėxier version of Gabriel, if that makes sense. He also wears his hair long, a little past his shoulders, like some rock star from another decade.

"So Claire," Miguel begins, "how's my brother treating you?"

Claire decides to play a little coy. "How do you mean?"

"Well, Gabriel was notoriously in love with his former fiancée." He fake-coughs. "And personally, I think two weeks were not enough for a man to suddenly get over his former lover of ten years and declare undying love for somebody new. But I guess, seeing you now in the flesh, I realize why. Any man could fall head over heels for you."

Despite herself, Claire couldn't help but blush over that statement. She tries to avoid Miguel's penetrating eyes, yet each time she glances at him, there he is, staring at her so intently. She smiles, then turns to Gabriel, who's not smiling at all. In fact, Gabriel's wearing that scowl she had first seen back at the pool party at the mansion, when Gabriel found him speaking to some sleazy reporter.

"Miguel," he says. "I don't think that's fair that you're making my fiancée here feel uncomfortable."

Miguel's eyes go round. "Oh, I didn't mean to! I was just making small talk."

"Then try to make your small talk much smaller, little brother."

Miguel frowns; his big brother is trying to put him in his place, like what he used to do back when they were kids. But he's a grown-up now, and the CEO of his own group of companies. Nobody gives him bullshit like this. And yet. He hasn't seen Gabriel for years; he hadn't witnessed what his older brother must have gone through. Maybe it was him who was being insensitive to his brother's feelings. "Sorry, Gab. You know me. I always end up with my foot in my mouth. So careless! I'll try to be more careful from now on."

Gabriel says nothing. An awkward silence fills the air so much that Claire is only too grateful when the main course arrives, the staff accompanied by the French chef himself, who tries his best to explain the meal in detail.

Halfway through the meal, Gabriel's mobile phone rings and rings. Irritated, he stands up and leaves the room.

"Have I offended you, Claire?" Miguel whispers, who happens to be on her left side.

"Oh, no, not at all," she reassures him. "I'm used to statements like that."

"That's good to know," he says. "I'm on your side here, Claire. I'm not an emissary of my mother or anything like that. I came here on my own decision when I heard she couldn't make it. Truthfully, I was also curious about you. Gabriel is a man of few words as far as his relationship is concerned. I don't even know the details about what happened between him and Michelle. But when I heard about you straight from my mother's mouth—'apparently a girl of many talents, advocacies, such an interesting mix of character'—I decided I should personally meet you, especially now that my brother speaks of an impending marriage—an actual wedding, which was something that never happened with Michelle! Imagine that."

"What?" Claire is dumbstruck. "What marriage? What wedding?"

"Well, you don't expect Gabriel to dilly-dally once he proposed to you, do you?"

"Wasn't that what he did with Michelle Alcantara for ten years? He dilly-dallied!"

Miguel laughs. "Yeah, I know. But the surrounding chatter about you is that Gabriel is dead serious."

"Who's dead serious?" It's Gabriel, back from his phone call.

"Oh, it's Mom. She's dead serious about getting her health back," Miguel says, winking at Claire.

Claire glances away; there's something about Miguel that makes her so self-conscious. And she's beginning to hate herself for that—and to think she's been with this man for less than an hour!

"Well, 'dead serious' can become 'pretty dead' if she doesn't start taking her health seriously," Gabriel says, stabbing a piece of sauce-drenched meat with his fork. "I'd want Mom to stay healthy, live long, and enjoy her grandchildren."

"Wow!" Miguel grins from ear to ear. "Grandchildren? As far as I know, I'm not planning on getting married or having kids soon. Whose children would that be?"

"Mine, of course," Gabriel says, matter-of-factly. "Claire and I are planning to have at least ten kids, five girls and five boys. Aren't we, honey?"

Claire is so shocked she almost spits out the water she's drinking.