A Frozen Man's Sun

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The shrill ringing of my phone tore through my sleep. My eyes snapped open, squinting at the screen glowing in the dark. Manager Ris.

I groaned, swiped to answer, and pressed the phone to my ear. "Manager, it's six in the morning."

"Ice, this might be sudden," he cut in, urgency flooding his tone, "but you need to go to Tagaytay today. There's a photoshoot waiting for you."

My brows furrowed. "Why so sudden?"

"Jasper's down with a fever. He was scheduled for the Tagaytay resort shoot, but he can't make it. You're the replacement. Don't argue—it's already booked. I rented you a cottage. The new photographer and her assistant will be there too."

I rubbed my temple. "Fine. Where exactly?"

"Leaflet Resort. Pack your things. Bring floral pants, beachwear, sunglasses—anything that screams summer. You need to be on the road now, Ice. The shoot starts at ten sharp." His words rattled like bullets, no room for refusal. Then he added, almost as an afterthought: "Oh, and the photographer knows where you live. She'll meet you there."

The line went dead before I could protest.

I exhaled, heavy and resigned. No use fighting it. Tossing the phone onto my bed, I opened the wardrobe and pulled out clothes—swim trunks, floral shorts, tank tops, a few shirts, and of course, shades. Everything folded neatly into a travel bag.

A quick shower later, I stepped out of the bathroom, towel wrapped loosely around my waist. Steam still clung to my skin, droplets sliding down my chest as I crossed the room.

And froze.

She was here.

Flemeral was sitting casually on the edge of my bed like she owned the place, scrolling through her phone.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I demanded.

Her head snapped up. Her eyes widened. Then her hands flew to cover her face. "Why are you naked?!"

I smirked. "I'm not. I'm wearing a towel." I tilted my head. "What's wrong, Eral? Affected?"

"No!" she barked, lowering her hands and glaring at me. Her cheeks, however, were crimson. "See? I'm not affected at all!"

The universe decided to betray me. The towel slipped loose.

"Shit." I grabbed it before it fell completely, covering myself, but not before her eyes darted down. Her blush deepened furiously.

"You're doing this on purpose," she accused.

"Of course not," I muttered, adjusting the towel with irritation. "Who gave you permission to waltz into my room anyway?"

"You could've locked the door." She crossed her arms, defiant.

"Why should I lock it? No one ever comes in here." My gaze pinned her. "Except you, apparently."

She sighed, then smiled faintly. "Fair point."

I narrowed my eyes. "What are you really doing here?"

"I'm your photographer." Her lips curved into a mischievous grin. "What a coincidence, right? My first project back in the Philippines—and you're my model. Fate's funny like that."

I scowled, stepping into my walk-in closet to grab clothes. She continued chattering, unbothered by the fact that she'd just seen more of me than I intended.

"Reina—my assistant—is downstairs. She's waiting," she explained, still perched on my bed. "While you were taking forever in the shower, I refolded your clothes for you and repacked your bag." She gestured to the travel bag at her feet. "I'm efficient, Ice. You should thank me."

I emerged from the closet fully dressed, keys in hand. "Let's go."

"Wait!"

I stopped, exasperated. "What now, Eral? We don't have time to waste."

"You should fix your hair," she said firmly. "Come here, let me."

Before I could refuse, she stepped close, her fingers brushing lightly through my damp strands, smoothing them into place. Her touch was gentle but deliberate, and for a moment, silence filled the room.

"There." She smiled, satisfied. "Much better. If you insist on keeping that white hair, at least make it look good. Your hair is like your life—it gets messy, you fix it. It'll get ruined again, and you'll fix it again."

I said nothing, simply turned and headed for the door.

We stopped briefly at my parents' room. Mama opened the door, brows lifting. "Where are you going, Ice?"

"Photoshoot. In Tagaytay. Eral's the photographer."

Her eyes brightened instantly as she spotted Flemeral behind me. "Flemeral!" She stepped forward, greeting her with a kiss on the cheek. Then she looked at me pointedly. "If my son doesn't cooperate, call me."

"I'll keep that in mind, Auntie." Flemeral winked. "We'll head out now."

Mama smiled warmly as we left.

On the porch, a young woman stood waiting with equipment cases stacked neatly at her feet. Petite, sharp-eyed, clearly nervous.

"Reina," Flemeral called. "Let's go."

We headed to the garage. I unlocked my car, and before Eral could claim the passenger seat, Reina slipped in first. Flemeral's lips pressed into a thin line as she reluctantly climbed into the back beside the cameras and lighting kits.

"Reina, right?" I asked, eyes still on the wheel.

She nodded quickly, smiling shyly. "Reina Fiore. And you're Ice?"

"Yes." My tone was flat. "Turn the radio on."

She obeyed, twisting the knob until music filled the car. Troye Sivan's Youth poured from the speakers, its lyrics echoing faintly.

In the rearview mirror, I caught Flemeral's reflection. She was frowning, arms crossed, her posture screaming disapproval.

"Something wrong, Eral?" I asked casually.

Her head lifted. She forced a smile. "Nothing."

I shrugged, returning my attention to the road.

"Ice," Reina said softly, almost to herself, "you're even more handsome in person."

A faint laugh drifted from the backseat—Flemeral's. She was amused, though her eyes said otherwise.

"Thanks," I replied shortly.

"I like your hair," Reina added nervously.

I gave a single nod.

"Did you dye it yourself?"

"Obviously."

Reina flushed, embarrassed, and turned to stare out the window. Flemeral's snort was soft but sharp, cutting through the tension like a blade.

"Reina, don't mind him," Flemeral said, her tone teasing. "Ice is always cold. Just like his name." She leaned forward slightly, smirking. "Cold as ice."

My grip tightened on the wheel. "So you're comparing me to ice?"

"Yes." Her voice was steady, certain. "You're as cold as ice." Then she leaned back, her smile curling into something sharper. "But I'll melt you."

I glanced at her reflection in the mirror. "Are you threatening me, Eral?"

Her eyes met mine in the glass, unwavering. "Not a threat, Ice. A promise."

She slipped her earphones in, closing her eyes with a serene smile, leaving me with the hum of the engine, Reina's quiet presence beside me, and the weight of her words heavy in the air.

Cold as ice. But she'll melt me?

"Tsk." I shook my head, pressing harder on the accelerator as the road stretched toward Tagaytay.