This Crazy Rich Boy

"Oh, Miguel, you've waited for me," Karen beams as they arrive back at the table.

"Of course," the man says. "I'm bringing you to your new place, right? I'll help you get back on your feet."

"That's so nice of you," Karen says. "Are all the Tan brothers so helpful and thoughtful like Miguel, Claire? Because if they are, then you really must not let him get away." She playfully punches Claire on the arm.

Claire merely smiles—it's her only way to stop her mouth from saying angry things like, Oh, you money-whore, at it again, aren't you? Turning on the charm to lasso men like Miguel? Men who are stupid enough to fall for your gold-digging ȧss? If only I can put my arms around you and hug you so tightly until I hear the faint sound of your little bones crunching, I would!

But then again, all Claire actually says is, "You're lucky, Karen, that you were at the right place and the right time when you fainted, right when we're coming out of that restaurant."

"Yes, I was lucky," Karen smiles.

When Miguel stands up, Karen latches on his arm, as though there's already some "mutual understanding."

Claire watches it, outrage bubbling just underneath her veneer of politeness. "Take care, you two."

"Oh, I'm quite sure Migs will take really good care of me, won't you, Migs?"

Miguel nods, but in the corners of his mouth, does Claire detect a hint of uneasiness?

Miguel and Karen are long gone but Claire's still sitting at the restaurant's table, the lone guest in this lavishly appointed sea of empty dining tables. There's so much conflicting emotion in her ċhėst that she'd rather sit out here, than face the gloom of her suite alone. At least she knows Dale and the restaurant's staff are discreetly watching her, alert for anything she might need. Although there's nothing they could do for the only thing she needs right now: inner peace.

For one, she couldn't get over the fact that Gabriel stationed her here where much of his memories with Michelle Alcantara reside. She tried to shrug it off a while ago, convincing herself that perhaps it's just one of Gabriel's many eccentricities. Maybe these insane, quirky decisions are what make Gabriel the man that he is. Maybe there's more to them than meet the eye? But then again, she can't deny that she has feelings, too—and her heart is telling her that maybe she doesn't really matter. The rare gentleness that Gabriel would let her feel was nothing but a product of her own imagination, delusion even.

And now this: Miguel who walks off with one of the most ridiculous women she has ever encountered on the very first day she meets him. There's something about Miguel that strikes her as very attractive—something about those eyes, or the way his dimples faintly appear whenever he smiles. And he does smile a lot more than his older brother. And yet, he also seems too gullible, too impressionable for her taste. How could he not realize what Karen was doing? Or maybe Karen should somehow get credit for being so subtle in the art of gold-digging?

Ah, all these worries are giving her a headache. She's not sure if Gabriel needs her tonight at that dinner Miguel mentioned. Tomorrow, she needs to keep up with the pretense and go to the office as "Bella." And she doesn't know yet when Michelle would strike again, or how Gabriel is planning to settle it with Michelle once and for all. Because Claire's days as his fake fiancée are numbered—pretty soon, these would be over. They would all have to return to their old lives. She just hopes she could live normally again.

Dale, as always, is attentive. "Would you like me to call your chauffeur, Miss Claire?"

"Don't bother, Dale. I'll just take a walk."

Thankfully, it's not too hot outside. The sky is overcast. The weather's actually lovely. She has walked a block when she realizes her high-heeled shoes are killing her. She takes them off and just carries them. She's still wearing fashionable clothing, so people look at her and dismiss her as some rich eccentric—maybe the daughter of some business tycoon on a rare day out without her bodyguards. If only they know, she thinks.

A door swings open and out stumbles a woman with a large cup of coffee in hand. The woman curses; in her purse is a small dog who tries to peep out; it seems to be asking for help. Claire looks up and realizes it's Starbucks, the same place she'd take coffee for Gabriel. On impulse, she enters it and walks straight to the counter. And coincidentally, there's no line of people.

"Hello," the barista, whose nameplate says, "Brad," cheerfully greets her.

"Hi," Claire says. "You remember me?"

The barista's eyes gleam with recognition. "Of course! Gabriel Tan's girl Friday! Do you need your day's supply of grande, quad, nonfat, one-pump, no-whip mocha?"

"Oh, my God, you remember!"

"I forget nothing and no one. Especially customers who are as pretty as you."

She secretly cringes inside her, but smiles. "Yes, one of those, please."

"Coming right up," he says, and yet he stays there, just gazing at her.

Claire notices it. "Is there something wrong?"

The barista sighs. He points at his nameplate. "My name is Brad, and my shift is over in about a minute. So you'll be the last customer I'm serving for the day. So is it possible if… Uhh, if I ask you for coffee?"

Claire giggles. "I'm already buying one. From you."

"Yeah, I know. But I mean, not as a barista and customer, but you know, maybe as friends."

"You want to be friends with me? Why?"

And Claire was not being demeaning or anything; she's really just surprised.

"Why not?" Brad says. "Ever since you came in here a few days ago, I've been waiting for you to come back. But you didn't. And I thought I won't see you again. But now that you're here, I can't risk losing you again."

Oh, my God, Claire thinks. Lose me again? What is happening in this world? Why is everyone so suspiciously romantic? She's on the verge of dismissing him—a lot of things have happened today and all she wants is a nice tall glass of coffee, and she's just curious to try the kind of concoction Gabriel Tan seems so very fond of—but Brad stands there smiling, and he's not bad-looking at all. In fact, if you'd meet him on the street, you'd give him a second or third look—he has that boyish charm that Claire finds irresistible. Claire mulls the offer for a second. Technically, she is single. This Gabriel Tan thing is a job. Maybe she should look at things in the long term, keep her options—and her mind—open.

"Well, alright. Process that coffee order and let's find a table. Just talk."

The joy in Brad's face is instantaneous. "Sure, Ma'am, one exceptionally complicated coffee coming right up!"

And as Claire watches Brad work, admiring how deftly he handles all the implements of his trade, how quick and sure his movements are, she thinks to herself, "Why not, indeed?"