Steph Ortiz likes to dream, and dream big she does. When she gets hired as a digital content editor and  works with men's magazine editor-in-chief Gabe Castro, she couldn't help but think of her career ladder, the travel perks, and her boss's abs. 

So when Gabe asks her to accompany him to Love City, a new tourist haunt in Europe, all she could do was thank her lucky stars...until she gets the biggest (and hottest!) surprise of her life.

Will Steph ever want to leave Love City? Or will she have to return solo?

I promise myself NEVER to wear stilettos.

One of my heels got stuck in the grate while I was walking hurriedly down the street. The morning has already been supercharged with noisy car horns beeping in the distance, men and women in corporate attire, all with equally cool expressions that said "Get out of my way". To my right a bell chimes, a signal that the cafe nearby is preparing for Monday Madness. Everybody looks ready to take the world by storm, and here I am, trying to keep my balance as I wriggle my left foot to extricate the heel from the grate.

I glance at my watch. 8:15 a.m.

Dammit.

For months I have plotted how this morning would turn out. How I would strut my stuff in my carefully pressed chinos and slacks. How the dewy air would greet my face and make it extra radiant, putting all those face sprays to shame. How I, Steph Ortiz, would see the man of my dreams.

My boss.

But no. Today I'm sweating profusely and huffing and puffing. Not a pretty picture, thank you very much. It is not everyday that you'd have to walk around Makati in heels because the cab driver couldn't squeeze into the horrendous traffic. I tuck a few strands of wavy hair behind my ear and wipe my forehead with the back of my hand. Google "haggard" and my name would probably make it to the top list.

There is obviously nothing sexy about this.

At last I manage to pull my heel out and regain my composure. One guy stops to ask if I need any help but I give him what I hoped to be a polite smile. In this urban jungle that is Makati, you have to be gutsy, independent, and most of all, impeccably dressed even if you feel like a raging Hulk inside.

I walk a couple of meters more and find myself standing outside our building – a looming concrete giant with 30 floors, large glass windows, and men and women walking briskly near the lobby. Our office is on the 18th floor, and I inhale deeply as I strut towards the entrance. The guard greets me with a smile, though I can't help but think it is a bit fake, like he had undergone Botox or something.

I see familiar faces on my way to the elevator, and lucky for me, it seems I'd have the elevator all to myself. My watch says 8:30 – not a good start on my first day as a digital content editor for Alpha, a magazine for men. As I am about to close the doors, a man in crisp gray slacks, a matching gray blazer, and white polo steps inside. I get a whiff of his cologne. Wood and pepper. Very manly. Very...

I look at his face.

Oh God.

Gabriel Castro. Alpha's editor-in –chief.

I have seen his picture in the magazine, a 1x1 photo with his message for the readers -- that kind of thing. His smile shows his right dimple and a row of perfect teeth. Right then and there he became the subject of my fantasies. Sometimes he would write about how Alpha has reached five steady years despite the tough competition. Other times he would reflect on feminism and what it means for men. There was also a time when he wrote a feature about cars and how the vehicle of your choice determines your bedroom performance. Hmm. I wonder what car he drives.

Suddenly I become extra conscious that there are only two of us in the elevator. Surreptitiously I take a peek sideways and admire his strong jawline and smooth tanned skin. It is so difficult to act nice and normal when there is a Greek god standing next to you. I make a mental note to write an article about keeping your hands off your boss.

The thing is, I don't think he notices me. Like he is impervious to my presence. Not that I'm expecting him to lust over me – OK, I'm dying for him to lust over me – but seriously, this guy's a statue who does not seem to breathe. I look up to check the floor we're in. Still ten floors away. Great.

Before I can stop myself, I feel my mouth open and words gush forth.

"Uh... Mr. Castro?"

He looks at me, albeit coldly. Still, I extend a hand. If he does not take it, fine. At least he knows who I am.

"I'm Steph Ortiz, the new digital content editor. I was hired last week, but we didn't get the chance to meet. Lila said you were in a business meeting. I spoke to Mr. Uy, though."

Mr. Uy is the CEO of the publishing company, but the grapevine says he and Gabriel are so close they are like brothers.

He takes my hand, shakes it firmly, then fixes me with a stern gaze. "Phil has said a lot about you. He was impressed by your resume...but I figure first impressions do not last. You should have been in the office before eight." He withdraws from the handshake just as coolly, but the ice in his eyes is still there. Right. So much for being hot.

I pinch myself to keep myself from retorting. This is Gabriel. I must not say anything stupid.

"Yes, Sir. I'm –"

The doors open and Gabriel walks out in big strides.

"—sorry," I mumble as I walk hurriedly after him.

Alpha's office has four divisions: the editorial team that includes the editors, staff writers, photographers and art directors; the finance team; the advertising group; and the gods of Alpha. Gabriel should be in the editorial team, but since he and Mr. Uy are chums, and Gabriel is sort of his business partner, he belongs to Olympus as well, where we mortals cannot reach him.

Gabriel pushes the glass door effortlessly and I scuttle inside, determined to start my day at Alpha as soon as possible.

There is a hushed tone as Gabriel walks toward his cubicle, but the editors quickly resume their typing and shuffling.

"Hey, Steph!" Lila saunters over to give me a peck on the cheek. "I hope you weren't caught in heavy traffic."

"Actually, I was. And these heels got me in trouble." Lila is my best friend, and she has been working for the magazine since it was launched. Now the features editor, Lila has written practically about anything – cars, male celebrities, ties, and sex. That bit she enjoys very much.

She glances at the editor-in-chief, who is already hunched over his MacBook Air. "I see you've met Gabe. In the flesh." Trust my best friend to give extra emphasis on the last word.

"Well, it wasn't a lovely meeting, really. He gave me the cold shoulder for being late," I say glumly as she takes me to my work station.

"That's just being Gabe. If he doesn't talk to you, that's when you should be alarmed. He's really kind and generous. He would give away iPhones during Christmas. Plus he's so ripped. Wait 'til you see his abs."

She taps a table in front of me – my work station for the next two years or so, depending on how I'd fare in this job. A sleek black PC is on the table, as well as a writing pad and a few gel pens. Lila takes two magazines from the shelf and hands them to me.

Still, I cannot let one tiny thing go. "How in the world did you see his abs?" I whisper.

Lila laughs softly. "Facebook. We've got hackers here. Thank God for making IT so convenient."

I am so shell-shocked I have not thought of a witty reply. Lila points at the magazines I'm holding.

"They're back issues. Feel free to browse them, get a feel of what you should be writing. We mostly do editing, but we also write articles. We release an issue every month, but we do update our website daily." She gives me a sad look.

I smile weakly despite the foreboding in her tone. "And that is my job. Come on. Let's rock."

***

The rest of the day goes by in a blur. I hop from one social media account to another, updating posts, managing comments, and responding to a multitude of questions from Netizens: When will Alpha feature Chris Pratt? Do you accept interns? How come you don't have any article about underwear?

I chuckle at the last question, and I am about to type an equally cheeky answer when my phone beeps. I tap to see who is texting me, half expecting it to be my father because he would always check to see how I'm doing at work. Surprisingly I see Lila's name on the screen.

Got sumthing 2 tell u re work.

I narrow my eyes at the words, then crane my neck to see Lila. She spots my face over the computers and gives me the thumbs up sign. Uh-oh. That is NOT a good sign.

What did you do? I type back.

I tap my fingers on the keyboard, deleting a naughty comment from a male reader. I post another article on Alpha's Facebook page, the third for the day. One more article and I would reach my quota. My phone beeps again.

I asked for a break. Won't be back til nxt month.

I raise my brow and look at Lila, who is smiling smugly.

That's it?

I wait for several minutes, but not without watching Lila type the response. I sense something weird is going on, like when she kept quiet in Trigonometry class and I found out that she stuck a gum on a girl's hair. Or that time when she didn't show up in class because she was happily snoring beside her boyfriend in his condo. All the while, her parents thought she was having classes with me.

Her text reaches me and breaks into my reverie.

Told them u cld work on a project in my place.

Project? I mouth the word to her. She quickly sends a follow-up.

Yes. Think Europe. U will luv it, I promise. :)

Sometimes I wonder how Lila and I became friends. She loves surprises; I don't. She's a sucker for adventures; I'm a homebody. So when Lila says I'd love something, it's her subtle way of saying I'm in for a great shock.

"Gabe will give you the deets," Lila says as we squeeze into the elevator. One man, whose buttons could pop out any minute, glares at us. "It will be so much fun. Imagine all the scenery, the locals, the food... You could even snag a boyfriend there!"

I arch an eyebrow. "Really, Lila? Last I checked, it's my first day at work, and now you're telling me that my project involves going to a faraway place."

"Europe is not 'faraway'. The flight will take hours, not light years," she shoots back, casting look of disbelief at the heavy guy who purposefully walked between us as he got off the elevator. "Seriously, what's wrong with that man?"

"You're changing the subject."

"Yeah, because I'm not supposed to tell you everything. Like I said, wait until Gabe talks to you in private."

"He will?" I suddenly feel giddy at the thought. Gabe and I. Together. In private.

"I assure you nothing naughty is going to happen." Trust Lila to prick my bubble of fantasy.

I clear my throat and close my eyes briefly in an attempt to erase any images of Gabe leaning seductively over the table.

"Fine. So when does your break start? You still have to introduce me to the rest of the editorial team." Things are usually pretty awkward on the first few days at work, and meeting so many new people seems exhausting for me.

As if she has read my mind, Lila smiles sweetly and drops the bomb.

"My break begins tomorrow. And oh, Gabe says he's willing to show you around the office, meet the rest of the staff..." She winks and adds, "If you don't mind."

I can't help but grin and silently thank the gods.

Of course, I don't mind. When it comes to Gabe, I don't mind at all.

At 26, I have ticked off quite a few items in my bucket list:

*Wax my legs and other pertinent parts.

*Watch romantic movies without falling to bits.

*Do the flying yoga.

*Meet Gabriel Castro in person.

But I never imagined that I would do this recently-added item:

*Hack Gabe's FB account and stare at his sexy photos.

Thank God for the IT guys. Now I can't stop from taking a good peek at his abs once in a while which, I have noticed, is a nice distraction from all the work Lila had left. In three days, I have officially become the digital content editor AND proxy features editor. At present, my workstation resembles that of my room – sheets of paper, gel pens, and my mobile phone and tablet all scattered on the gray tabletop. The art director shoots my table a weird look, shakes his head, and whispers to the guy sitting beside him.

I don't think they understand the meaning of creative mess.

The morning rush has failed to give me my daily dose of adrenaline, and the coffee has gone stale in my mouth. I wonder what they fill those vending machines with. I raise my paper cup to my lips and down the last of my java fix, hoping that it would jolt me from my stupor. I stare at my blank screen, where I was supposed to have typed 750 words about bowties. Seriously? Do men still wear bowties these days?

I've had bad cases of writer's block before, but this is the worst. I have wasted an hour on nothing, and my mind is still fixated on Gabe's Boracay trip photos – his dark, chiseled body on the white sand, his brown eyes behind the sunglasses, and his smile, which is something we don't get to see in the office.

He does not scowl, but he is not friendly either. He was very business-like and curt when he introduced me to the staff, and I felt like his eyes were burning a hole on my back. Despite his cool, calm, and collected demeanor, I've still got a crush on him and I would never delete his photos on my phone even if he tells me to.

"Ms. Steph, Sir Gabe wants to see you."

I quickly stash my phone in my bag and look at Melissa, the editorial assistant, a.k.a the one who breaks the bad news. She looks nervous as hell, which could only mean two things:

1. I have submitted a poorly-written work that needs revision ASAP.

2. Gabe has finally found out who has been stalking him – ME.

I nod to Melissa then promise to see Gabe after a quick touch-up. I look at my reflection – my makeup is okay, I don't look pale, and my red matte lipstick is still screaming "Kiss me now!"—but deep inside I'm about to break. What if Gabe has really found out? What if he fires me?

As I walk towards his cubicle, I feel panic rising in my throat. In my mind I've imagined this scene countless times, but it was definitely not because of some office scandal or improper behavior.

Usually, Gabe would be typing on his laptop, unfazed by any office drama that editors liked to stage. He is probably the most handsome, poker-faced boss I've ever seen, and he can be painfully sarcastic if he wants to. But this morning he surprises me with a wide smile, like he just entered a million-peso deal. My legs turn into jelly, but I can't exactly figure out why.

"Good morning, Steph. Please have a seat," Gabe greets me with uncharacteristic sweetness. He gestures towards an armchair, and I sit there, trying hard not to squirm.

"So..." he began. I close my eyes as I wait for a plethora of accusations. Do I say sorry or what?

"...I'm so sorry but I'm going to be upfront about this. What happened really disappointed me..."

Oh my God. Here it goes.

"I've evaluated your work, including your online presence..."

Crap. I knew it. I've hit two birds with one stone.

"And I was so impressed that when Lila suggested that you could take over the project, I said yes..."

What? WHAT?

My eyes flutter open. Gabe is still talking.

"I was wondering if you're willing to go to Glasgow and write a feature article about a new tourist spot. It'll be an all-expense paid trip. We'll cover everything from hotel accommodations to food and airfare..."

Okay, that does not sound bad.

"And you'll be with me."

I freeze. Did he just say we'll go to Europe together?

"I'm sorry?" Of course I want to be with him, but I have to make sure it's not just my imagination.

"The project is to be undertaken by two people. You see, I'm very hands-on with opportunities, especially if they meant a wider readership for Alpha. But I need a helping hand, too. That's where you'd come in."

I reflect for a moment, digesting every bit of information Gabe has been throwing at me. Being with him is more than I could ask for, but a project as big as this requires a person who has been with them for years. Not that I lack the skills, but Lila has more impressive credentials.

"You've been with us for less than a week, but that doesn't disqualify you from getting a big break," he says. I feel a warm glow on my cheeks. How did he know what I was thinking? He must be psychic.

"We've known Lila for five years and she has never failed us with her recommendations. When she mentioned you, we knew we had to trust her."

I will myself to speak. "Thank you for giving me this opportunity. Which place in Glasgow are we supposed to visit?"

For what it's worth I have to know if it's going to be a historical site, or a famous hangout, or whatever.

"Well..." Gabe scratches the side of his face. He looks uncomfortable all of a sudden.

Well what?

"They call it Love City."

***

I have never been to Glasgow and naturally I have never heard of Love City before. The name pretty much tells me it's a romantic spot, but is it romantic-erotic, as in Loveland in Jeju Island? Or is it romantic-nostalgic, as in the Bay Area in Roxas Boulevard?

Okay. That's probably not nostalgic for most people. I Google Love City and results show in nanoseconds. I click on one photo of a cobblestone street with cafes and sweet-looking couples in the foreground. Another photo shows a garden with a big wooden door for entrance. Inside the garden are wrought-iron chairs and tables and flowers of various colors and kinds. I scroll down to see more pictures and I click on the city's top view in the evening, with all the lights that seem to glow like fireflies. Unlike most cities, Love City has a soft tone to it – it doesn't even look like a city! The website says it's actually an old town in Glasgow, which was only converted into a tourist haunt and commercial center, but has miraculously preserved its serenity and romantic atmosphere. Think of Vigan and Paris – only in Scotland.

One picture shows a breathtaking part of Love City – a lagoon with a wooden bridge connecting two banks. Tall trees line the banks and the water is still. It is obviously man-made but couples wouldn't seem to mind. This place spells romance in every angle, and before long, would become the perfect spot for proposals.

This is where we're heading.

Gabe said we'll be flying to Glasgow in two weeks, so that leaves me enough time to upload articles and update Alpha's social media accounts. Honestly, I still feel jittery about this project. More than being with Gabe for seven days, I'm not sure whether I'd be able to write a comprehensive article about it. The trip also poses another question in my head: If the trip would only last for a week, how come Lila couldn't wait that long before going on leave?

I spend the remaining office hours researching Love City and wrapping up an article about video games. It's been a productive day, and a stressful one at that. I type the last line, hit the Post button, shut the PC down, and grab my things. It's six o'clock, and I have to buy groceries. Cat food, mostly.

The elevator isn't as crowded as usual, but it's not empty either. A tall guy in jeans and a blue shirt is standing near the entrance.

"Hello," he greets me. "You're the new digital content editor, right?"

"Yes. I'm Steph," I say in return. I extend my hand.

"I'm Jason." He takes my hand and shakes it firmly. "I'm from the advertising department. The last time I saw you, I think you were here for the interview."

I nod, hacking my brains for any recognition. But no, his face doesn't look familiar.

"How's the first week?" he asks.

I give a nonchalant shrug. "Pretty hectic, but it's okay. I love every minute." I hope it sounded convincing. To be honest, the work seems so simple in the ad, but it demands a lot of effort, especially if you're juggling tasks.

"That's alright. As long as it pays well." Jason laughs awkwardly.

"Right," I say in an equally awkward manner. I mean, what do you say to people you've met for the first time?

"You remind me of Nica."

I blink at Jason. "I beg your pardon?"

"Nica used to write for the magazine. She's based in London now."

"Oh." Really, another minute with this guy is going to drive me insane. Can't we just talk about something more interesting?

"Sir Gabe dated her for months, I think."

Wait. Backtrack. What was that I picked up?

"Wow. She must be gorgeous," I say, determined to extract information in the subtlest way possible.

"Yes, and she's got the brains to match the face. She and Gabe looked so good together."

Damn. So much for prying. But she's gone. The way is clear. I need to know one important thing, though.

"What happened?"

Jason pauses a bit, as if trying to recall an event. "She turned down Gabe's invitation of traveling to Glasgow. According to the grapevine, he was supposed to propose to her."

Oh, dear. Did Gabe actually think of taking her to Love City?

There goes my heart (and my libido) on the floor, all beaten to a pulp.

I'm beginning to hate conversations in the elevator.