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Later, after Kylie and Jonah had left after we had dinner together so they could finally sleep, I decided to stay up for a bit. I head to my bed, settled on my pillow with my laptop on my lap.

I stayed up until one in the morning, reading more and more since I've already dug up some dirt about him.

Benedict Edward Rose Saintclare. Twenty-five years old. Fuckingly wealthy. He got a headline the day when the world found out he was the first born of Hugo Saintclare from a one night stand. Mr. Hugo Saintclare used to belong to an insanely famous boyband years ago called Satellite Patrol, later he turned to be a ridiculously filthy rich businessman. His mother, Miranda Rose Saintclare, at first kept him in secret for seven years from Hugo and the entire world since she wasn't ready to tell everyone about him. Mrs. Saintclare was also married to her ex-husband Landon Thompson which was Hugo Saintclare's best friend who turned out to also be a part of Satellite Patrol.

Not too cliche kind of love triangle.

At age seven, he was involved in a car accident and was diagnosed with Traumatic Brain Injury. It was one of their family's dark days, as what Mrs. Miranda Saintclare said in an interview. It made the world feel on pins and needles to see if he would make it. But with millions of money from his father, he was miraculously cured.

At age seventeen, he had his first girlfriend named Desiree Hanson. After his first serious relationship, he hasn't been into any relationships since then. At age eighteen, he'd been the world's biggest player and smoothest liar to women in college. At nineteen, he was starting to be seen with different women a week. At twenty, he became the perfectly cold-hearted bastard, rich from head to boot.

By twenty-two, he finished Business Administration with honors. He excelled well in his studies and also earned a black belt in karate. During weekends, he'd be seen in famous clubs in different countries or either he'd fly his own private jets from one state to the next or probably out skiing. He loves anything that's outdoor. He acquainted himself in sports. He became the most notorious trust-fund baby in our generation.

He owns a lot of sports cars, the kind of luxurious cars where you wouldn't even think a man would be ridiculous enough to spend tons of cash on a limited edition ride. But Benedict can lavish millions for petty little things even if he doesn't need it. He can buy anything he wants within a snap.

Benedict has a little sister, Bethany Carmel Rose Saintclare who's only sixteen years old and still in high school. The youngest are twins named Olivia Rosalie "Rosie" Saintclare and Dylan Dorothy Saintclare.

Since he's the eldest, he inherited his father's position on his group of companies and never ending wealth. He became not only a billionaire but an absolute symbol of power too. Not politically, but the kind of power that comes from having lots of money. He isn't linked to the shady dealings of the political machine, but he knows he will win if he'll run. That's why every politician from all over the globe wants to be on the good side of the playboy because it's their best interest because anyone backed by Benedict Saintclare can't be owned by anyone else. He's the champion of the underdog.

At twenty-three he became a venture capitalist, funding the tech projects of his closest friends named PJ Payne, Khaleel Monroe and Sebastian Hall, from the genius clan of Puissance League which soared to a great success, making Ben Saintclare a few hundred million wealthier.

Imagine that!

Ben Saintclare, a simple name but a very powerful businessman.

Latest cover of Enquirer:

The world's most favorite playboy reveals how many women he slept with.

Why isn't he interested in marriage?

And how he became the world's hottest bachelor?

All the juice and more!

Juice. That sounded awfully naughty.

On Twitter:

@BenSaintclare I heard you were at New York last week? Didn't get to see you.

You f****d my girlfriend! You're so f*****g DEAD!! @BenSaintclare

@BenSaintclare I wish I'd never laid my eyes on you. I can't believe you're not talking to me after that one night stand. #FU

Free drinks! @BenSaintclare is paying at White Coven's downtown. See yah!!

On his f*******: Wall:

Saintclare! Drinks next weekend I'm in town with my wife. Not bringing her though, she'd fawned over you. PM me.

Miss partying with you. How about renting a yacht like the old times?

Hey Ben ;) remember me? I gave you my number, call me or message me?

"I doubt he'd even message you. He's got tons of other girls." I murmur.

Wow. You're a real gem.

I slammed on my laptop shut around two thirty in the morning.

I yawned as I stared at my ceiling, I know that I need to make a good story for Mrs. Victoria or else she'll fire me as her intern and I can't let that happen.

•••••

I've got three-inch thick file about Ben Saintclare and still no call from his PR. It's been three weeks since I called, that list they've written my name on must be long enough to give me a goddamn call.

I've begged for Mrs. Vicky to give me two more days and I'm lucky enough that she did. If I don't get anything done in two days, I'm toast. It's bye-bye Lure Magazine for me. Bye-bye internship.

Since today was my day off, I decided to volunteer on Heaven-sent. It was an orphanage where I grew up. Yes, technically I was an orphan. My mother died after giving birth to me and my father was a horrible drunkard so they put me here when I was only seven and my dad lost custody of me. He eventually died because of lung cancer when I was ten. An old couple, Mr. & Mrs. Hemingway, took me out from the orphan when I was ten. They were very nice to me. They took care of me, gave me food and sheltered me. When they died, I was sixteen, so I decided to live on my own and support myself.

When I got to the orphanage, sister Theresa quickly welcomed me with a warm hug. She kisses my cheek.

"How have you been my child?" She asks me with a smile.

"I'm doing very great, sister Theresa. How are the kids? Have they started with their pot making?" I ask.

"They're about to. Let's go."

Sister Theresa became my mother when I was a kid here at the orphanage. She's the greatest nun here at the orphan. She's very hands on on taking each of us equally. I really love her with all my heart. She'd tuck me to bed and tell me wonderful biblical stories before sleeping. She'd put my bad dreams away when she sings to me. I love her angelic voice. She's a very good mother to me and to the other kids here too. We love her.

I joined the kids and they were all very happy to see me. We began our pot making and I had my own stand. The kids loves this afternoon play, I used to love it too when I was an orphan here. I'd remember that I always look forward to pot making and gardening. I'd always look forward for the weekend. This happens every Saturdays but only when there's enough clay for the kids. Sometimes the potmaker won't even work because it's already too old.

"Look what I made." The little girl next to me giggled.

I smiled. "Put more water on it so you can mold it into a vase."

"Look what happened to my vase." The boy pouts, his vase was destroyed and looked like dog poop.

"Don't frown. You can always start over again. This time, really slow and careful. Okay?" I chimed to cheer him up.

He nods and begins to remake his vase one again. Other kids were already on their way to making the base of the vase while I was also starting to make my own little vase. I admit, I am not good with arts and crafts but at least I would try to make one. I love pot making most especially when I get to do it with these orphans. They remind me of myself when I was a kid too. I was also eager to make a beautiful vase, but it always end up like dog poop.

When most of the kids were almost done, I was finished with my little vase. I was proud of it because pot making has never been easy for me but I still do it anyways because it's fun. I noticed that I had wiped some fingerprints of clay on my faded denim overalls and I looked dirty as f**k. Good thing I tied my hair up or else I'd end up like last time when the tips of my hair had clay on it.

When the kids were all done, we placed our pots under the sunlight and rapidly walked to the fountain to wash off. I feel my phone vibrating in my right butt-cheek pocket while I let the kids clean up first. They were all very happy and even showed off to each other how they made their pots and how beautiful their pots were. Some kids wiped their palm full of wet brown clay on my overalls which left a few fingerprints on it. As much as I want to nag at them, I didn't want to. They're just kids, and it's not much of a big deal to scold them.

I dry my hands up and stepped aside to let the other kids wash as they take turns. While the scrub off the clay on their hands, I pluck my phone out of my pocket and I felt my stomach diving in because I've finally got a reply.

Good day Ms. Thibault. This is Marcus from Saintclare Enterprises, I'm Mr. Ben Saintclare' press coordinator. We have a ten-minute opening for you today 11AM.

So I get that notification right now, Saturday, at like 10:28AM

I stared at my overalls, all in dirt from pot making. s**t. "I can't see him like this." I mumbled to myself.

But there's no store around and I don't have time to change. I'm wearing my faded denim overall with a tank top beneath it with handprints of clays here and there. I look like an absolute freak show. He'd laugh at me and not take me seriously! He'd think I'm a joke. I'm representing Lure Magazine but I look like a disaster right now.

I groan. Universe, next time you make one of my greatest dreams come true, can I please be ready and well dressed for the occasion? I thought to myself.

I bid goodbye to the kids and to the nuns too. This was a matter between life and death, for me. I need to get an interview of Benedict Saintclare no matter what I wore or how I looked.

I tried to twist my hair this way and that but my appearance hardly improves. At least I'm not naked, I remind myself. I'm nervous while I'm riding in the back of the cab, cursing at myself and the world for letting this actually happen to me. I hate this situation that I'm in so bad that I feel my stomach beginning to hurt.

I pulled my small mirror out from my purse and there I am. "Oh my god." I'm horrified of how I looked.

"Tell me how bad I look right now." I tell the cab driver.

"Well... What happened to you miss?"

I groan. "Never mind answering that. I already know your answer with the way you looked at me."

My long strawberry blond hair twisted into a messy pigtails, a s***h of clay in the side of my neck and it looked beyond the word obvious on my pale skin. "Oh my god." I moaned.

This is the woman that the famous Ben Saintclare is going to see?

How much more if I'd get into his building? I wouldn't want to think of how the people are gonna look at me.