One Night At The Penthouse Suite

By Bianca Mori

All her life, Cora Ciacho was trained by her father to be one thing: CEO of Ciacho Group, the company he built from the ground up. She assumes the role six months after he passes away, but must face new challenges: a borderline hostile board, a too-good-to-be-true investment offer, and a mother and sister who deal with their grief in different ways. Thank goodness for Stephen Cruz, the sweet, sexy man who’d rescued her from a party eight months ago and has stayed by her side ever since.

Stephen knows that he and Cora are worlds apart. He does his best even if he wonders if a worker bee like him is enough for the queen that she is. Their relationship sizzles in the bedroom, but as they go through a trial by fire, can his love overcome their challenges? Or will it fizzle as Cora tries to conquer the boardroom?

One Night At The Penthouse Suite is the second book in the One Night series, which feature high society romance tropes, HEA/HFN, and is categorized as Heat Level 3 based on the #romanceclass heat level classification on romanceclassbooks.com.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bianca Mori
• Release date: Nov 16, 2020
• ISBN: 9781005820787

Bianca Mori

Bianca Mori writes contemporary romances, romantic suspense and crime fiction set in the Philippines, Asia, Europe, the United States and all points in between. Her steamy stories have been called "fast-paced and super-hot," "engaging," "vivid" and "engrossing." She lives in Manila with her family and a hyperactive pug. Find Bianca on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram as thebiancamori or at her website (www.biancamori.com).

Book preview

Copyright © 2020 by Bianca Mori

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Cover designed by Tania Arpa

Edited by Layla Tanjutco

Cover photo courtesy of Mhae Anne Morales and Mohammed Al Baidani

Photography by Jerry Pinpin of In Style Events

One Night At The Penthouse Suite

All her life, Cora Ciacho was trained by her father to be one thing: CEO of Ciacho Group, the company he built from the ground up. She assumes the role six months after he passes away, but must face new challenges: a borderline hostile board, a too-good-to-be-true investment offer, and a mother and sister who deal with their grief in different ways. Thank goodness for Stephen Cruz, the sweet, sexy man who’d rescued her from a party eight months ago and has stayed by her side ever since.

Stephen knows that he and Cora are worlds apart. He does his best even if he wonders if a worker bee like him is enough for the queen that she is. Their relationship sizzles in the bedroom, but as they go through a trial by fire, can his love overcome their challenges? Or will it fizzle as Cora tries to conquer the boardroom?

One Night At The Penthouse Suite is the second book in the One Night series, which feature high society romance tropes, HEA/HFN, and is categorized as Heat Level 3 based on the #romanceclass heat level classification on romanceclassbooks.com.

Content warnings: parental death, prolonged illness, grief

To my very own Celine, Samantha Zaragaoza.

CONTENTS

Copyright

Book description and content warnings

Dedication

CONTENTS

1

STEPHEN

Villa Cielito

2

CORA

Crescent Villas Penthouse

3

STEPHEN

Milagros Homes, Cainta

4

CORA

Executive Boardroom, CJCTower

5

STEPHEN

Triple G Apartment, Kalayaan Ave.

6

CORA

Nautilus Lounge

7

STEPHEN

Isla Santelmo

8

CORA

Oro Ballroom, Isla Santelmo

9

CORA

Sabad Beach, Isla Santelmo

10

STEPHEN

Ipil-Ipil Cottage, Isla Santelmo

11

CORA

Celadon Room, Isla Santelmo

12

STEPHEN

Crescent Villas Penthouse

13

STEPHEN

StarContact Offices, BMK Building

14

STEPHEN

StarContact Offices, BMK Building

15

CORA

Crescent Villas Penthouse

16

CORA

Three Square Supper Club

17

STEPHEN

Connaught Place, New Delhi

18

CORA

San Julian Hospital

19

CORA

The Spa at the Palace Hotel

20

STEPHEN

In an office across town…

21

CORA

Monday, CJCTower

EPILOGUE

Acknowledgments

About the author

Also by Bianca Mori

1

STEPHEN

Villa Cielito

Stephen emerged from a dream when the bed shifted. The world felt hazy, wrapped in gossamer. There was an absence of warmth against his body as the woman beside him rolled to the edge of the bed.

Stephen rolled over to watch Cora pad on bare feet out to the balcony, her delicate antique kimono doing nothing to conceal the curves and dips of her figure. She was perfection. They’d been dating for eight months now, but he still wasn’t used to seeing her like this: mussed and beautiful and bare and his. His to watch. His to touch.

It was early in the morning and the sky over the golden sands of the beach was gray and hazy. Only the few hesitant trills of birdsong pierced the still air and the muted roar of the waves.

Lying there, on a huge four-poster bed with the fluffiest, whitest, gazillion-thread count Egyptian cotton sheets, in a villa so remote the hidden access road to its elevated perch was only known to its staff and a few trusted locals, Stephen should have been feeling serene. Instead he felt a sort of helpless sadness, watching his lover’s shoulders slump as she gazed at the ocean.

He crept out of bed and silently made his way to her.

Her head turned slightly as he neared, and when he wrapped his arms around her body, she sank into his touch.

Did I wake you? I’m sorry, she said quietly.

You didn’t, he murmured, burying his nose in her orange blossom-scented hair. She sighed contentedly as he breathed her in. They watched the sun slowly climb the horizon, staining the clouds a pale, milky yellow.

Was it a mistake? Coming here so soon after the funer...the ceremony?

It had been six months since her father’s memorial, but he understood how it could feel so soon. Her voice was that of a child hoping to be reassured. A familiar surge of protectiveness ran through him, the very same instinct that brought them together.

They had met, in the oddest of ways, at the engagement party of his cousin Sam and her best friend Consuelo. He, the BPO resources manager, rescued her, the famous heiress, from an uncomfortable and intrusive conversation. They snuck out of the party, but it was a few days before Christmas and they were stuck in gridlocked Makati until the early hours. They passed the time talking, arguing, crashing another party to rescue some soup (long story), and then somehow they ended up in her condo, naked and filled with lust for each other.

Even then it had felt too good to be true, a fever dream of a one-night stand, but she surprised him that same morning by taking him to meet her father for breakfast.

Famous businessman Crescencio CJ Ciacho, the self-made titan who built Ciacho Group from a string of basement department stores in Iloilo into a corporation with interests in shipping, airlines, finance and more—that guy was her father. Stephen was surprised she’d wanted to introduce them so soon, and more surprised he’d agreed. Within thirty minutes of their cheap, post-sex goto breakfast, they were on their way to CJ’s home in Bel Air, a tony, gated enclave just a stone’s throw away from the side streets and holes-in-the-wall he knew so well. He tried not to gape at the massive house surrounded by manicured gardens, flanked by a garage stuffed with at least nine different cars; but the awe faded as soon as he was ushered into the ground floor room where CJ lay in bed. The faint smell of disinfectant and a failing human body, the medical equipment obtrusive among the patient’s personal belongings—it was too much like his own mother’s last days. The old man, though obviously frail, was still sharp, teasing Stephen one moment and threatening him playfully the next. Stephen and Cora had dutifully visited him every week afterwards, a difficult yet necessary witnessing of his slow decline.

By February, the garrulous old man that Stephen had met was gone. It was a long illness, but the end still came as a surprise to the family. After the memorial service, Cora prepared to fulfill his last wishes, which was to scatter his ashes to the sea that cradled the villa he had so loved. It had taken her many months to work up the nerve to visit their Pangasinan vacation home, Villa Cielito, afraid she would break down at the sight of the house filled with so many memories of her Papa.

Stephen had accompanied her this weekend, just as she had asked. The day before, he stood with her as she released CJ’s ashes into the water, and held her as she sobbed and sobbed. It was the last thing she needed to see through, before the next test came.

You miss him, he said gently.

I do. The tremor in her voice broke his heart. It’s been six months and I should be mending. I shouldn’t be this sad. But I hear a song he liked to hum, or I see some corner of this house where he liked to sit or the spot in the lanai where we used to play chess, and it’s like he passed away yesterday. The grief hits so hard, I feel punched in the gut. She let out a long sigh. The archness he loved about her crept back into her tone. It doesn’t help that I’m the only one who’s come back to this house. Mama and Celine can’t bear it yet.

He didn’t answer. He simply hugged her tighter and rocked her from side to side.

When did the pain end? When your mom passed?

It was Stephen’s turn to sigh, his mind hurtling back to his mother’s last days, when she had turned so small and fragile, like a tiny bird, a shadow of the formidable woman who could quell him with a look.

The pain is…it’s there, he said softly. He racked his brains to come up with a better way to explain it. I read somewhere that grief is like a visitor. It comes and goes, but if you ignore it, it’s like a wild animal that devours you. So you learn to live with it, when it comes.

Make friends with your grief?

He lifted a shoulder. Not exactly friends, no. More like…tolerate it. Like when one of your annoying titas comes for a visit. It’s not exactly pleasant and you can’t wait for the visit to be over, but you deal with her, and then you pray it’ll be a long time until she comes to your house again.

A ghost of a grin finally touched her sad face. I always like your way with words, Stephen.

He felt a blush warm his cheeks. He rubbed one against her shoulder. He wasn’t good with words, no—there were many times when he’d unintentionally offended one of Cora’s haughty relatives, sometimes even Cora herself—but in the months they’d spent together, they developed an understanding. Cora would tease that she was now fluent in Stephen, and it was true. She got him: all his stumbling, awkward, bumbling attempts at expressing himself, though she sometimes had to act as his translator.

Somehow, to his surprise, she still liked him.

His lips found her pulse, and he breathed in her scent again before kissing her there. Like magic, she melted against his bare chest. His lips traveled across the graceful column of her neck, and his fingers stole inside the paper-thin robe, finding the bare, golden skin underneath warming to his touch.

I— she started, but her sentence was lost as Stephen bit down on the collar of her kimono and pulled it wide. He started kissing the sensitive slope from neck to shoulder, which had her slowly grinding against him.

"We—mmm—need to—gasp!—talk to Mang Bok—unnhh—on the drive home—oh!—I have an early board meeting tomorrow— She wrenched her body away from his mouth and put steel into her voice. The six-month probation ends tomorrow. I need to be on my game."

Probation, he scoffed. How can you be on probation when you are the CEO? His tongue made a slow tango in the juncture between her jaw and her ear.

Trust me—Stephen! She inched away. The board has been treating me with kid gloves out of respect for my Papa’s memory. But tomorrow? Mark my words. They’ll be putting me through my paces.

With a flick of a wrist he pulled her sash open, and the kiss of morning air against her naked body made her gasp. She twisted in his embrace and wrapped her arms around his neck, her mouth already open and hungry for his.

Goddamn it, Stephen, she said breathlessly as she came up for air. Are you trying to distract me?

His hands snaked down to her bottom and he lifted her against him with ease, his mouth swooping down on hers for a searing kiss. With a swift back heel, he nudged the veranda doors closed, and twisted around to gently lay her on the bed. Her robe was open, her eyes heavy lidded, lips swollen from his kisses, skin flushed with arousal. What good deed had he done in a past life to have this goddess before him in this one? He gave one of her erect nipples a long, slow lick and smiled as she hissed and threw her head back.

Is it working? he asked, burying his face between her breasts.

They had a couple of hours before Mang Bok would bring them back to Manila, and Stephen intended to make every one of those 120 minutes count.

2

CORA

Crescent Villas Penthouse

The phone rang melodiously in Cora’s ear, five, seven, nine, a million times, before it cut out and a recorded voice informed her that the number was unattended.

No shit, Cora muttered, blowing out a frustrated huff. She tried the number again. Pick up, pick up, pick up!

After two more unsuccessful rounds, the line suddenly clicked. ’Llo? muttered a sleepy voice.

God, finally! Cora said.

Sounds of fumbling filled her ear, and then a less-raspy voice said, Ugh, Cora, it’s you. You woke me.

Celine, dear sister, it’s three in the afternoon.

And?

Cora heard Celine heaved a huge yawn, followed by waking up sounds: the whooshing of air as Celine moved to another room and then the echoing sound of a toilet flushing.

Oh my God, you went to the bathroom on me?

What am I supposed to do? Hold it in?

Up late last night?

Vivienne Co flew in from Switzerland for her engagement announcement and asked us to her house, then somehow we ended up at this new bar Rand Rodriguez opened, with drag performers and aerialists and—

Cora patiently waited for the narration of last night’s events to end. It wasn’t fun to spectate on someone else’s social life, especially when hers had long keeled over and died. At least, the kind of social life that revolved around pleasure. These days, she attended events to network. It was never about having a good time anymore, if it ever had been.

Vita Tolentino fell into the indoor pool and everyone thought she’d drowned so Mario Belleza dove in to save her, which didn’t go over so well with his wife—everyone knows Vita and Mario had that one-night stand in Tokyo three years ago.

Celine—

I almost forgot. Did you come from Villa Cielito?

A pause from Cora’s end of the line.

How was it? asked Celine.

It was fine, she answered slowly. Are you coming to CJCTower tomorrow? 

A long silence stretched. With what she recognized as her sister’s ‘letting them down easy’ tone, Celine said: I didn’t know I needed to be there.

Celine, it’s the full board.

I’m sure that pertains to actual useful members of the board. I’m just a signatory, Cora, I have nothing to contribute to all the boring details of running Ciacho Group.

Cora swallowed hard. Please?

Celine let out a long breath. Ugh, what time is it again? I’m going to need to cancel with the Del Prados tonight and they so wanted to see me, there’s this resort they’re planning—

Ching. Cora deployed Celine’s childhood nickname, and her sister stopped speaking, knowing that she meant business. You know what tomorrow means. I need you there with me.

Didit. Celine countered with Cora’s secret pet name, the one only she and their parents used. What’s bothering you? Is it that brown-noser Maningning? Her voice had lost all pretense at boredom. Her sister always had a sharp, analytical mind for people’s behaviors and motivations. No one could size up a room and rank the people within in order of usefulness and intention quite as quickly and accurately like her. It was why she was so feared in Manila’s socialite circles. 

It had always bothered Cora that all the pressure of running Ciacho Group had fallen on her shoulders. While she was smart and diligent, she wished she had Celine’s way with people. She felt that she and Celine would have made a formidable team at the helm of Ciacho. But while she was drilled and molded by her father, Celine was petted, indulged, and pretty much allowed to do whatever she wanted—so long as it had nothing to do with running the family business. 

Maningning’s never been a fan of mine, said Cora. He always has a creepy tito way of making me feel six years old when I’m around him.

"No one likes him, not even Mama. Having an unrequited love is only tolerable when it’s for another person and not your business partner’s company. You’d think he’d be happy finally owning that tacky yacht he’d been lusting after, but who knows. Anyway. We all know he’s a bitter hag. He’s our bitter hag, at least. What do you need me there for?"

You don’t understand, Ching. These past six months have been like a ceasefire. The board knows I’m grieving, and finding my way around the Ciacho Group maze, and they’ve been pretty patient so far. But tomorrow is the sixth month since Papa died. You know the gloves will be coming off.

"You’re brilliant, Dit, you know it. You’ve been practicing for this role all your life. I’d only be a distraction in that meeting. A reminder to those old farts that Crescencio Ciacho passed his business to a flighty, unqualified, fluff-headed girl—not that you are, but that’s what I am, and they’ll conflate us into one person."

"You are not a flighty, unqualified, fluff-headed girl!"

I’m in luxury PR, for goodness’ sake, that’s basically the job description. Celine chuckled as Cora gave a short, frustrated squeal. Come on, sis. You know I’m right.

Cora could see the wisdom in the optics of keeping Celine away from the boardroom, but she was as stubborn as her sister. Ching, listen. I have a list in my folio with two columns: those who are on Team Cora, and those who are on Team Let’s Watch Cora Fall Flat On Her Face.

Who’s in the first column?

David Gutierrez, and only because I plucked him from middle management to run PayCia when I left to head the Group. He’s too grateful to be scheming—for now. That can change if I fuck it up.

Who else?

Cora sighed. Just David.

What? Celine exploded. Not even Tita Kata?

Cora bit her lip. Katherine Ting, the Group’s General Counsel and Chief Compliance Officer, was her godmother, a warm and supportive presence since her girlhood.

Still.

"Tita Kata isn’t a fool, Ching. She’s been a corporate lawyer back when men would mistake her for a secretary and ask her to get them coffee. She’s not going to back a loser—a female loser at that. My feeling is she’ll stay neutral until I prove myself." 

Celine sucked in a breath. You have a point, even if you’re dense. Why’s my name not on Team Cora?

Cora bit back a laugh. Do I need to even list you down, silly? You’re my sister. I know you’re always on my team.

There was a pause at the other end of the phone, and then Celine said, fiercely: I am, and don’t you forget it.

It took a moment to master the swell of gratitude expanding in her heart.

So you see? I’m going to be facing essentially a hostile crowd tomorrow. If I could see two faces around the meeting table that I know are squarely in Team Cora…that would really help.

Another pause. Cora found herself rising on tiptoes as she waited for her sister’s response. Fine, Celine finally said, to which Cora squealed. Geez, Dit, you almost pierced my eardrums!

I love you Ching! Cora began jumping and twirling in her room.

I love you too, you dork. I’ll see you tomorrow.

3

STEPHEN

Milagros Homes, Cainta

Benedict Bong Cruz was the consummate kuya. At 13, he assumed the role of male head of the Cruz family when their father, seaman Josefino Jojo Cruz, who had stopped coming home during his furloughs, was discovered to have started a new family with another woman in Nueva Ecija. The Cruz patriarch eventually expired of cirrhosis of the liver a few years before Benedict’s mother passed away. (Jojo, in contrast to the beatific Soledad, was not much missed by his children.) Benedict worked throughout college to supplement their mother’s income and provide an allowance for his younger brother, Stephen. Benedict became an engineer, built himself a modest but smartly planned house, married late, had two kids spaced three years apart