They arrived in the Philippines and were immediately greeted by the hot glare of the sun. By the time they stepped out of the airport, Philip's light shirt was already drenched in sweat and his face had turned red—both with the hot weather and his annoyance toward his new wife who by the way was enjoying every angle of his contorted face.

"You don't have a ride?" he asked incredulously when she said they had to get a taxi.

"No," she answered, tipping her head up to look for any taxi guy.

"I thought you already planned this?" he asked irritably.

"I don't plan little details such as a ride."

"For your information, lady, little details such as a ride will greatly help," he turned to look down at her, his eyes squinting from the sun.

"And for your information, it's my second time here and I know exactly where I'm going," she rolled her eyes behind her sunglasses.

"And where is that exactly?"

"Somewhere," she answered.

His eyes narrowed suspiciously, "Somewhere where exactly?"

"Ugh! Stop questioning everything! You let me handle this, okay?"

He scowled at her, "How can I when it's clear that you don't exactly know where to go next?"

"I know where to go next! Just shut up!" she exclaimed, raising her hand to call the attention of someone behind him. "Grab our bags and hold tight on your valuables," she told him, taking as much of her suitcase with her to meet the cab driver.

"Unbelievable!" he said through his teeth.

"Believe it!" she shouted over her shoulder. "Get going, Philip, we don't have all the time in the world."

"Easy for you to say when I'm carrying your suitcases," he snapped. "Why do you need so many clothes anyway?"

"They're not clothes, sweetheart. They're my equipment, so handle those suitcases with care."

"Like I actually care..."

"Hey! I mean it. You won't like what I'd do if my paints are all ruined when I open them later," she warned as they fell in line for a taxi.

His phone rang. He placed his wife's suitcases on the ground and checked it.

He sighed as he answered the phone, adding to his wife, "Watch the bags. I have to get this," before walking away. He could feel her gaze following him as he spoke, "What is it?"

"Got the first batch," Henry Bell uttered from the other end. "Enjoying the honeymoon?"

"I'm in the Philippines."

Henry's laughter rang through his ear. "Good thing you're at the other side of the world, man." Bell paused before adding in a serious tone, "Are you being followed?"

"How the hell would I know that?" he gritted out.

"Of course. But be careful. Always watch your back. And keep the woman safe for Christ's sake. We don't want her father to go crazy on us."

"Do your job, Henry, and I'll do mine."

"Sure will."

"Who was that?" Cassandra asked when he returned.

"Business," he lied.

She gave him a doubtful look but did not ask further. They waited for their turn in the taxi line and when it came, his wife ordered, "The suitcases, Philip," before climbing inside the air-conditioned car.

He and the Filipino driver struggled with the suitcases to haul in the trunk for a few minutes. When they were done, he opened the door and bent down, "Scoot over," he ordered.

"I didn't hear please," she said with defiance.

"Like hell," he straightened and slammed the door beside her, strode to the other side and climbed in.

"How wise," she uttered.

"Shut up, darling," he said sarcastically. How funny they said random endearments to each other when they were having a banter which was always. Sweat was dripping down his temple, running down his flushed cheeks now and so was Cassandra's. Philip caught himself before he made a fool of himself when the sudden urge to wipe the sweat off the side of her face. "I'm in a really bad mood as it is and I'm trying real hard not to commit battery right now," he continued through clenched teeth.

She feigned horror, "I can't believe that you would actually think of such a thing!"

"Stop that act, will you? I won't lay one finger to hurt you. Your dad made sure of that."

"Ah...the contract. You think I should be thankful for it?"

He quickly turned his head to look at her, "Is this all about the damn contract? It is, isn't it?"

"Of course it is! I won't be here stuck with you if it weren't for that blasted contract," she exclaimed.

"Where you two going?" the Filipino driver spoke rather hesitantly, afraid to break their argument.

"You're not the one stuck here with me. It's me who is stuck here with you. That's different," Philip said without hearing the man.

"I don't want to hear any more of your logical babbles," Cassandra said and turned away from him to face the driver, "Shangri-La Hotel, please."

"Okay," the driver said and started the engine, happy to finally leave and roll the meter.

*****

Cassandra led her husband to the main lobby of the Shangri-la Hotel, suitcases and all. The cool air-conditioned air greeted them and she relished it for a second.

A beautiful Filipina girl smiled at her when she reached the counter. "Welcome to Shari-la Hotel, how may I help you, ma'am?"

She gave the lady a friendly smile and said, "I reserved a room a couple of months ago but made changes a few days ago. Can you confirm it please?" She said it with enough emphasis.

"Can I have your name please?" the lady looked at her computer.

"Cassandra Anders," she answered.

"Anders?" Philip asked beside her. He smelled of sun and heat and his shirt was as drenched as ever.

"Yes, Anders. I made the reservations before I married you," she said hastily. She noted the frown on the Filipina's face. "What's wrong?"

"Ms. Cassandra Anders made reservations for a Double Bedroom room."

"Yes, double. Two beds?"

"It's a double room, ma'am."

"Can you elaborate?" she asked again.

"I guess that means we have to share a bed, honey," Philip whispered beside her before the lady could open her mouth.