JAY JAY POV
Four weeks. It's been Four whole weeks since that asshole left for London, and honestly? My life has been 50% moping and 50% trying not to throw my phone at the wall every time I miss his smug face.
But finally, today is the day! The King of Assholes is gracing the Philippines with his presence again. And where am I? Stuck in Manila traffic, driving to the airport.
Why? Because Keifer is a stubborn, possessive, grade-A jerk, that's why!
He actually had the audacity to argue with Tita Serina over the phone. When Tita said she'd send a professional driver to pick him up, he straight-up threatened her! He told his own mother that if he saw anyone other than me at the arrivals gate, he'd turn around and get right back on that plane to London.
Tss. Can you believe him? Talk about a drama queen. Percy would be proud.
Even from across the ocean, he's still managing to boss me around. But unluckily for my dignity, my heart was already doing a frantic victory lap the second I stepped into the car.
"Asshole," I muttered, gripping the steering wheel as I neared NAIA. "Just wait until you get here. I'm going to punch you before I even think about giving you a hug."
But we both know that's a lie.
Lord, give me strength. If he comes out of that gate looking even more handsome than when he left, I'm officially calling a strike on our engagement.
Hustle, Jay-Jay! He is landing, and he's apparently ready to hold the airport hostage if his driver isn't there.
I finally reached the airport and parked the car after fighting through what felt like the entire population of Manila on the road. Tss.
I checked my reflection in the rearview mirror one last time. Okay, fine, I was wearing a bit of makeup—sue me! You can't blame me, okay? I haven't seen that guy in person for a month and twenty days.
Was I counting the days? Maybe. Okay, yes. Definitely. Every single miserable one of them. We only managed to see each other through video calls once every two weeks because he was so busy with all that inheritance drama.
My heart was doing a frantic, caffeinated drum solo against my ribs as I walked toward the arrivals area. I adjusted my clothes
Blink. Blink. Poise, Jay-Jay. High-voltage London energy. Don't let him see you're this excited.
Then, it happened. The voice over the intercom cut through the noise of the terminal.
"Flight PR103 from London Heathrow has now landed."
Bloody hell. He's here.
I clutched my bag, my palms suddenly getting all sweaty. The King of Assholes has officially returned to Philippine soil.
Lord, please. If he comes out of those sliding doors looking like a masterpiece, help me keep my cool. Or at least help me remember to breathe.
I stood there, standing on my tiptoes, staring at the entry door like my life depended on it. Tss. Seriously, Keifer, where the hell are you? If I'm stuck here in this crowd for another five minutes and you aren't coming out, I'm leaving you to take a tricycle home!
I scanned the faces of every traveler coming through. Businessmen, families, tourists... come on, where is my favorite headache?
Then, I saw him.
He was walking out, his gaze sharp and restless, searching the entire area like a predator looking for its target.
Bloody hell.
He looked... different. More handsome? Tss. Okay, a lot more handsome. He actually grew a small, faint mustache and a bit of a beard during his stay in London. It gave him this rough, mature look that made my knees feel like they were made of actual cotton candy.
He looked less like a high school delinquent and more like the King he always thinks he is.
His eyes were still darting around, looking and narrowing as he checked every face in the arrivals area. He looked frustrated—probably because he hadn't spotted me yet. Stubborn asshole. He really was ready to hold a grudge if I wasn't the first thing he saw.
I stayed still for a second, my lungs suddenly forgetting how to function. Who gave him the right to look that good after a thirteen-hour flight? It was illegal. It was a violation of my personal peace!
Then, his dark eyes finally locked onto mine. The frustration on his face vanished in a heartbeat, replaced by that intense, territorial gaze that always turns my brain into mashed potatoes. He started walking towards me, his pace increasing with every step.
I started walking towards him too, but then—Tss—logic completely left the building. I found myself running. Why the hell am I running?! This isn't a K-Drama!
But my feet didn't care about my dignity.
We collided halfway. He didn't just hug me; he practically tackled me, his large hands grabbing my waist and hoisting me up into the air as if I weighed nothing. My instincts took over, and I wrapped my legs around his waist, clinging to him like my life depended on it.
Don't blame me! I haven't smelled that mix of expensive cologne and mint in forever!
I buried my face in the crook of his neck, feeling the rough texture of his new beard against my skin. It was hot, it was scratchy, and it was—oh god—it was perfect.
"You're back," I whispered, my voice sounding way too emotional. "You asshole, you're finally back."
Keifer didn't say anything at first. He just tightened his hold, his face buried in my hair, breathing me in as if he'd been starving for air the entire time he was in London. I could feel his heart thudding against my chest—hard, fast, and rhythmic.
"I told you I was coming back for you, Mutya," he rasped into my ear, his voice lower and rougher than I remembered. "Did you really think I'd let you stay out of my sight for a second longer?"
I pulled back just enough to look at him, my hands cupping his face. The mustache and beard really did make him look more dangerous. More like the King who had come back to claim his territory.
"You're late," I snapped, though I was smiling like an idiot. "And you look like a hobo with this beard."
Keifer let out a low, dark chuckle—that signature Watson sound that makes my knees buckle even when they're wrapped around his waist. "Tss. Liar. You love it. I can feel you shaking, Mrs. Watson."
"Asshole!" I hissed, but I didn't let go.
"Let's go home, shall we?" I asked, finally letting his feet touch the ground, though I didn't want to let go of him just yet.
He nodded, a small, satisfied smirk playing on his lips. He reached down and interlocked his fingers with mine, his grip firm and possessive—exactly the way I remembered it. We started weaving through the crowd toward the parking lot, and for the first time in over a month, the air didn't feel so suffocatingly heavy.
"So," he started, his voice dropping into that teasingly low register as we walked. "Do you like it? The beard and the mustache?"
I glanced up at him, trying to keep a straight face despite the fact that my heart was still doing backflips. "Tss. Why did you even grow it anyway? You look like you forgot where the bathroom mirror was in London."
Keifer chuckled, the sound vibrating through our joined hands. "Your mother mentioned something to me once. She said you told her your ideal type is a guy with a mustache and a beard."
I felt the heat rush to my cheeks instantly. Damn it, Ma! Why do you talk so much?!
"And you actually listened to her?" I stammered, looking away so he wouldn't see just how much I was blushing. "You grew that just because of a random comment she made?"
"Of course," he said simply, as if it were the most logical thing in the world. "If that's what it takes to keep your eyes on me and off those actors you're always watching, then I'll grow a full-blown forest on my face if I have to."
We reached the car, and I popped the trunk to hide my face. "So you really grew it for me," I muttered, trying to lift his heavy luggage.
"Move over, Mutya," he grunted, reaching over me to take the suitcase. He hoisted it into the trunk with one hand like it was a bag of chips, his arm muscles flexing in a way that definitely made me gulp.
He slammed the trunk shut and leaned against the car, trapping me between his arms. He looked down at me, that faint mustache giving him a dangerously charming edge. "Well? You didn't answer my question. Do you like it?"
I looked at the scruff, then at those dark, intense eyes that had been haunting my dreams for forty days.
"Tss," I huffed, crossing my arms. "It's okay. I guess. It makes you look like less of a brat and more like... well, more like someone I'd actually consider marrying."
Keifer grinned, leaning in until his nose brushed against mine. "Good. Because I'm not shaving it until you've kissed every inch of it."
"Asshole!" I laughed, pushing his face away, but my heart was already gone.
He took the wheel, but instead of heading toward the city, he navigated the car toward the outskirts until the streetlights thinned out and the pavement turned cracked and dusty. Eventually, he pulled over in what looked like the middle of nowhere.
"Keifer, where are we?" I asked, looking around at the empty horizon. "Why did we stop?"
He didn't say a word. He just killed the engine, climbed out, and gestured for me to get into the back seat. My heart skipped a beat, but I followed him, my curiosity—and nerves—getting the better of me.
"Keifer, there's no one on this highway," I whispered as I climbed into the back. "It's completely deserted."
"Of course there isn't. This is an abandoned bypass," he answered, his voice dropping an octave as he slid in beside me, his large frame making the backseat feel suddenly very, very small.
"Then—"
I didn't even get to finish. He crashed his lips against mine with a hunger that told me exactly how much he'd been holding back since he stepped off that plane.
I finally understood why we were here.
"I missed you so fucking much," he growled against my lips, his breath hot and ragged. His hands found my waist, pulling me flush against him until there was no air left between us.
He groaned, burying his face in the crook of my neck, gripping me like he was afraid I'd vanish if he let go. "I really want to taste you right now... but I promised your father."
I blinked, my brain still foggy from the kiss. "My dad?"
"Tss. I promised him I wouldn't get... intimate with you until we were officially married." He pulled back just enough to look me in the eye, his expression a mix of frustration and dark amusement. "Your father actually thinks we haven't done it yet. He thinks I'm still a 'gentleman' when it comes to you."
The heat that rushed to my face was enough to power the entire city of Manila. I turned a shade of red I didn't even know existed. "He... he said that to you?"
"He gave me a whole lecture before I left for London," Keifer muttered, his thumb tracing my lower lip, his gaze dropping to my mouth. "And as much as I want to break that promise right here in the back of this car... I at least want to make it to the wedding without him shooting me."
He leaned in again, nipping at my earlobe, making a shiver race down my spine.
"But damn, Mutya... you're making it really hard to be a gentleman."
"Keifer," I breathed out, my voice hitching as he pulled me effortlessly onto his lap.
He didn't need a second invitation. He focused on my mouth again, kissing me with a renewed intensity that made my head spin. I kissed him back just as hard, my fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer. I missed this—the weight of him, the way he claimed me like he owned every breath in my lungs. Maybe it was because he actually did.
The heat in the car was rising fast, the windows probably fogging up as he broke the kiss to trail a path of fire down my jawline.
"I love you, Jay," he murmured against my skin, his voice thick with emotion. "Until scientists find the end of the universe... and even then, I'll still be looking for you."
My heart squeezed painfully in my chest. "I love you too, Keifer."
Before I could process the sentiment, I felt the cool air of the car hit my skin as he expertly pulled my shirt over my head. I let out a soft gasp, my hands resting on his broad shoulders for balance.
He pulled back just enough to look at me, his eyes dark with a hunger that made me tremble. A slow, predatory smirk curled his lips
"See, I won't fuck you today," he rasped, his gaze roaming over me before settling back on my eyes. "But that doesn't mean I can't devour you."
Without waiting for a response, he leaned back in, his lips finding the sensitive skin of my collarbone. I arched my back, my eyes fluttering shut as he started to make good on his promise. He was teasing, tasting, and driving me absolutely insane, proving that even without breaking his word to my father, he still knew exactly how to make me lose my mind.
"Tss," I managed to moan, my grip tightening on his shoulders. "You really are... an asshole."
"Your asshole," he corrected, his voice muffled against my skin.
He moved lower, his lips ghosting over my cleavage, leaving a lingering, open-mouthed kiss that made my toes curl. When his mouth found the curve of my breast over the lace of my bra, I let out a shaky breath I didn't know I was holding.
"You know, red really suits you," he murmured, his eyes dark as they drifted over my lingerie. "Even back then, in that sexy Christmas dress... you looked so good it was driving me insane. You still do."
I scoffed, trying to regain some semblance of dignity as I looked down at him. "Tss. You've gotten even more shameless since you came back from London. Did you pick up those smooth lines from the Brits?"
I reached out and hooked my fingers into his collar, pulling him closer until our foreheads rested against each other. "Be honest with me, Keifer. Did you find any 'hot' girls in London? A month and twenty days is a long time."
A slow, mischievous smirk spread across his face—the kind that usually meant I was about to get played.
"Yeah, actually. I found one," he said, his hands sliding down to the hem of my shorts, pulling me firmly against his lap. "And trust me, Jay... she was so fucking beautiful I couldn't stop staring. I even have a picture of her. Do you want to see?"
My heart did a painful little horizontal skip. My grip on his collar tightened. "Oh? You really want to show me another girl right now? You've got guts, Watson."
"Look," he challenged, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his phone.
He flicked the screen on and tilted it toward me. I braced myself to see some blonde supermodel
. Instead, I saw a candid photo of me—laughing, messy hair, probably taken when I wasn't looking months ago. It was his wallpaper.
The jealousy that had been bubbling up vanished, replaced by a wave of heat that had nothing to do with the car's temperature.
I rolled my eyes, though I couldn't hide the grin tugging at my lips. "Nice move, Keifer. Real smooth. Professional level asshole."
"Tss. Only for you, Mutya," he whispered, tossing the phone aside and capturing my lips again. "Always only for you."
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Guys… who listened to Love Like U by Ashtine Olviga 😭💗 Because I did… and I'm actually obsessed. Like someone please tell me how to stop listening to it for 2 hours straight because I physically cannot turn it off 😭🎧✨
Her voice is so angelic, it's giving soft clouds, warm sunlight, and main‑character energy all at once 🤍🌤️ I'm so happy she's happy. You can literally hear the joy in her voice and it makes the song hit even harder 😭💗
Also guys… PLEASE vote for Andres on the JuanCast app 🗳️🔥 Let's make him win just like we did with Ash 🤍✨
We already proved how strong we are as a fandom — we can do it again. The more we support him, the stronger he stays, and the more this whole situation calms down 💗🔥
So open the app, vote, and keep the energy going. Keepers don't give up.