Marrying the Billionaire's Rebel Son

Anita's Point of View

For us, overseas workers, nothing could be more exciting than going home. Being away from our family had never been easy, but it was better that way than to cry in hopelessness when something went wrong and you couldn't do anything about it.

Three years was my contact as a kitchen assistant at Martin's mansion in Cherry Hills Village, Colorado. It was all a stroke of luck when I got picked by the agency to be a servant and later chosen to be the assistant of our boss' chef, Ms. Linda Peters.

My experience as a kitchen helper at the school canteen where I studied college was something they saw in my resume for me to be assigned to the kitchen. Something I never thought would push me into that position because it was only a part-time job for me while I was studying to help me with school expenses.

I was only twenty-one when I accepted the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity from an agency that went to our province, Tanay, Rizal. I spent two of my birthdays away from my family and within a month I could finally go home.

As days went by, I couldn't hide the overflowing excitement I was feeling every single day, but everything suddenly became a rollercoaster ride of happiness and sorrow. Who could ever think that in one month, I would be able to meet not just one, but three people who would turn my world upside-down?

***

Sunday morning and I was on my day off. I went to the church to attend a mass and before returning to the mansion, I decided to go to the supermarket to buy more things I would be putting into the box I would be sending to the Philippines.

Bottles of shampoo, boxes of soap, and packs of chocolates. I planned on sending one large balik-bayan box as my pasalubong three weeks before my flight because the box would take a month before it arrived at its destination. However, I needed a box to measure how much stuff I still needed to gather.

"Excuse me," I waved at one of the staff at the supermarket and approached her. "Sorry to bother you, I just want to ask if I can find a large carton box here?" I asked her immediately because she seemed to be in a rush.

She looked at me with confusion. "What kind of box exactly? I mean where you will be using it?"

"I'll need it to send a package," I replied.

"We don't sell the box you're looking for. You can get a box to the courier company you want your package to handle," he informed me.

I knew about it, but I needed a box to measure how much I still needed to buy to fill a huge one. I thought for a moment. "Okay, thank you for your time."

"You're welcome," she answered, but when I was about to go to the cashier to pay, I heard someone calling behind me. When I looked back to check who the person was calling, I realized it was me.

She approached me with a smile and said, "I asked my supervisor, we have boxers at the storage. I can give you the size you are looking for for free before they throw those away."

"Oh, wow! Thank you!" She was an angel. My problem with the box was solved.

She told me to pay first to the cashier and meet her in the alley of the sweets treats where she was assigned. The box was kind of heavy even though it was flattened and I still had to assemble it. For a five-foot-two-inches-tall, petite woman like me to carry, that was quite heavy, but that was the size I needed so I needed to carry it myself.

I realized it was not a good idea I bought so much bath soap and bottles of shampoo that day. It made it harder for me to walk because I had something else to carry to the spot where I could get a taxi.

People were staring at me while I was struggling. Some of them offered help, but I refused because I felt so independent that day.

I tried countless times to call a taxi, but drivers kept ignoring me. It took me a couple of minutes of waiting until an old pickup truck suddenly stopped in front of me and an American guy who seemed around my age sitting in the driver's seat rolled his window.

"Do you need a ride?" he asked.

His metallic blue eyes were mesmerizing to stare at. The pointy nose was quite intimidating with my small nose. I could say he was a good-looking man, but I didn't want to be deceived by those pleasant features.

I got scared deep inside because there was a lot of news about missing women every day. I had recently watched a documentary about a handsome guy who m*rd*red numerous individuals and most of those were women.

"N-No, thank you," I answered politely, immediately looking away as I expected him to leave after that.

"Come on, my dad is a sheriff. I'm not a bad person." I heard him say, but who cares? He could be lying.

"My name is Adam Cassidy. This is my license," He even introduced himself without me asking.

I looked at him and saw he was raising his driver's license for me to see, but I was not convinced although I was honestly shocked by the way he wanted to prove he was not like those people in my head at that time, but-

"They won't let you ride a taxi with that huge carton box, young lady. You need to fold it and end up ruining it if so," he said, just to convince me.

He was right, though. It had been half an hour since I tried calling a taxi, but none of them stopped to give me a ride.

I suddenly thought of what he said. Fold it in half, or maybe a quarter, however, I might end up ruining it. What I also worried about was the dark clouds forming. It seemed it would rain any moment and I should return to the mansion before it gets dark.

"Come on. It could rain soon," I heard the guy say after he caught me looking at the sky.

I looked at him, searching for a sign that he was not a good person, but I didn't know what had gotten into my head to bluntly ask him this, "Are you sure you're not a serial killer?" It made him chuckle. I bit my lower lip and bowed my head because if I was wrong, it was a shame on my part to jump to that kind of conclusion.