Chapter 105: Marco Fernando Junior's Sister

Shaira Rose Gustilo Fernando POV

I fly through the piles and piles of paraphernalia that litter my bedroom floor. I will be late. On a Friday, after being on time all week, I would be late.

'Pearl!' I shouted furiously. Where are you? I ran out onto the landing and threw myself over the banister. 'Pearl!'

I hear the familiar sound of a wooden spoon hitting the sides of a ceramic bowl as Pearl appears at the bottom of the stairs. She looked at me with a tired expression. This is an expression I have used recently.

'Keys! Have you seen my car key?' I puffed at her.

'They're on the coffee table where you left them last night.' She rolls her eyes, taking herself and her cake mixture back to her workshop.

I crossed the landing in complete panic and found my car keys under a pile of weekly glossies. 'Hiding again,' I whispered to myself, grabbing the tan belt, heels, and laptop. I went downstairs and saw Pearl in her workshop spooning cake mix into different tins.

'You need to tidy up that room, Shaira Rose. It's messy,' she complained.

Yes, my personal organizational skills are a bit surprising, especially since I'm an interior designer, who spends all day coordinating and organizing. I scoop my phone up from the chunky table and dunk my finger in Pearl's cake mixture. 'I can't be brilliant at everything.'

'Get out!' She removed my hand with her spoon. 'Why do you still need your car?' she asked, bending down to smooth the mixture, her tongue resting on her bottom lip in concentration.

'I have my first consultation at The Country Hills - some country mansion in Cavite.' I feed my belt through the belt of my navy pencil dress, slip my feet into my tan heels and show myself in the mirror on the wall.

'I thought you were staying in the city?' she asked from behind me.

I tousled my long dark hair for a few seconds, flipping it from one side to the other but gave up, piling it up instead with a few handles. My dark brown eyes look tired and lack their usual sparkle. A result, no doubt, of burning the candle at both ends. I just moved in with Pearl Brillantes a month after breaking up with Tommy Baldemor. We are like a university student couple. My liver is screaming for rest.

'Yes. The country sector is Herman's domain. I don't know how I ended up here.' I sweep the wand of my gloss across my lips and smack them together. 'One is not partial to old Filipino and all things proper.' I gave Pearl a kiss on the cheek. 'It hurts, I know. Love you!'

'See you later.' Pearl laughed, without looking up from where she was working. 'Don't forget your P's and Q's!'

Despite my tardiness, I drive my little Mini with my usual care and consideration to my office in Bonifacio Global City. I remember why I tube it every day when I spend ten minutes driving around looking for parking.

I entered the office and looked at the clock. Eight forty. Okay, I'm ten minutes late, not as bad as I thought. I walked past Greg Mateo and Angel Torrente's empty desks to mine, watching Herman in his office as I took my seat. Unpacking my laptop, I noticed a package was left for me.

"Morning, flower.' Herman greeted me with a soft boom as he landed on the edge of my desk, followed by the usual creaking under his weight. 'What did you get there?'

'Morning, this is the new range of fabric from Milan's. You Like?' I caressed some of the luxurious material.

'Wonderful,' he feigned interest. Don't let Ynnah Garcia applaud this. I just liquidated most of my assets to fund new soft furnishings in the house.'

'Oh,' I gave him a sympathetic face. 'Where is everyone?'

'Maureen has a day off and is having nightmares about Tom with Mr & Mrs Montes. Just you, me and Doreen now, flower.' He took his comb from his pocket and ran it through his silver mop.

'I have a midday appointment at The Country Hills,' I reminded him. He will never forget. Country pads are said to be his kingdom. 'Why am I going, Herman?' I have to ask. I've never worked in a country property before, and I'm not sure I have the insight for old and traditional.

I worked at famous Property Holdings for four years and made it clear that I was working to expand the business in the modern sector. With luxury houses flying across Cavite, Herman and Tommy, with their specialty of traditional design, are missing out. When he left and the workload was too much for me, he put Maureen to work.

'That would be because they asked for you, flower.' He pushed himself to his feet, my desk creaking in protest. Herman ignored it, but I winced. He needs to cut back a little or stop sitting at my desk. It won't last long.

So, they asked me? Why would they do that? My portfolio does not hold anything that would show traditional design - none at all. I can't help but think this is a complete waste of my time. Herman or Tommy will go.

'Oh, The Modern launch,' Herman removed his comb. 'The developer is really pushing the boat out with this penthouse party. You've done an amazing job, Shaira.' Herman's eyebrows rose on his head.

I'm blushing. 'Thank you.' I'm dead proud of myself and my work at The Modern Properties, my greatest achievement in my short career.

Based on any property data and with prices ranging from fifteen million pesos for a basic apartment to thirty million for a penthouse and fifty million for a mansion house, we are in the realm of the super-rich. The design detail is as the name suggests: Italian luxury. I took all the materials, furniture, and art from Italy and enjoyed a week there arranging the shipping schedule. Next Friday is the launch party, but I know they've already sold the penthouse and six other apartments, so it's more of a showing-off party.

'I've cleaned my diary so I can do the final checks when the cleaners are gone.' I flipped the pages of my diary to next Friday and rewrote the page.

'Good girl, I told Maureen to be there at five o'clock. This is her first launch so you need to pay attention to her. I'll be there at seven with Tommy.'

'Of course.'

Herman returned to his office, and I opened my email, filtering to delete or reply as needed.

By eleven o'clock, I set up my laptop and stuck my head against Herman's office door. He was engrossed in something on his computer.

'I'm off now.' I said, but he just waved his hand in the air in acknowledgment. I walk into the office to see Doreen struggling with the photocopier. 'See you later, Doreen.'

'Bye, Shaira.' she replies, but she's too busy removing the paper jam to acknowledge me with her face. The woman is a disaster.

I stepped out into the fresh sunshine and headed to my car. The mid-morning traffic on a Friday was a nightmare, but once I got out of the city, the drive forward was pretty straightforward. The roof is down, Anita is with me and it's Friday. A little drive in the countryside of Cavite is a nice way to end my working week.

My Waze directed me to pull off the main road and into a small lane, where I would find myself in front of the largest pair of gates I had ever seen. A gold plaque on a pillar reads "The Country Hills".

Bloody hell! I took off my sunglasses and looked through the gates and down the gravel road that seemed miles away. No sign of a house, just a busy road that I couldn't see the end of. I got out of my car and walked to the gate, giving them a little shake, but they didn't budge. I stood for a moment, wondering what to do.

"You need to press the intercom.' I nearly jumped out of my skin when the low rumble of a voice came from nowhere, piercing the quiet country air.

I looked around me, but I was definitely alone. 'How are you?'

'Here.'

I did a full three-sixty turn and saw the intercom down the lane. I went straight through it. I ran over, pressing the button to announce myself. 'Shaira Rose Gustilo Fernando from The Modern Properties.'

'I know.'

What does he do? How? I looked around and saw a camera installed at the gate, then a metal shift broke the peace around me. The gates are starting to open. 'Give me a chance.' I whispered as I ran back to my car. I jumped into my Mini and crawled forward as the doors swung open, always wondering how I was going to remove the glass of port and cigar that was, quite clearly, tied to the miserable sod ass. I no longer look forward to this appointment every minute. Luxurious countrymen and their luxurious country mansions are not in my area of ​​expertise.

Once the gates were fully opened, I stepped through and continued down the tree-lined, gravel driveway that seemed to go on forever. With mature Acacia trees lining both sides of the lane at regular and even intervals, you'd think they were strategically placed to hide what lay across. After a mile or so of careful driving, I pulled into a perfectly round courtyard. I took off my sunglasses and stared at the big house that was in the middle and needed attention. It's great, but I'm more apprehensive now. My enthusiasm for this appointment was waning by the minute.

The black doors - decorated with highly polished gold fittings - are flanked by four giant bay windows, with carved stone columns guarding them. Giant limestone blocks formed the structure of the mansion, with lush bay trees blocking the face. The fountain in the center of the courtyard, spraying jets of illuminated water, dominates the view. It's all very impressive.

I stopped, turned off the engine, and groped my way out the door to get out of my car. Standing and holding onto the top of my car door, I looked up at the magnificent building and immediately thought it must be a mistake. The place is in amazing condition and with a magnificent façade.

XXX