Chapter 6 : Cornered and Confronted

Haven’s POV

I feel my body seize involuntarily, a shiver shooting up my spine. My mind goes completely numb as I process what is happening.

Cruz’s lips are pressed against mine.

Those piercing blue eyes of his are closed while mine are blown wide open in complete shock.

Is this happening?

It feels like I have no control over my body as if Cruz somehow managed to seize some unseen force over me and my will.

My lips part and I feel his tongue graze the inside of my mouth. The sensation is surprising, but I have no will over my body to stop myself from kissing back. His hands, once firmly pressed against my side, drift around my waist and pull me closer. My neck cranes backward as he towers over me and continues to keep me pressed against him.

A gasp slips past my lips, allowing Cruz to deepen the kiss when his hands trail down my sides, rounding the curve of my ass and settling back up on my hips. His hand body pressed against mine has my head spin and my limbs feeling heavy and weak. His touch is both delicate and demanding as if he’s afraid to let me go.

My heart is racing out of my chest. Secretariat, the famous racehorse who won the Triple Crown, would not stand a chance against how fast my heart is pounding.

Suddenly, the pressure on my lips ceases.

Breathless, I swallow dryly and gaze up into Cruz’s piercing blue eyes. I expect him to descend on me again, pausing only to take a breath, but this is not what I see.

When I look up into his eyes, I see something unexpected — reservation.

I can’t tell if I am disappointed or relieved, but I feel mostly confused. Why did he stop? Everything I read about him said he was a bit of a party boy, sweeping girls off their feet left and right. Was there some reason he stopped? Was I bad at kissing?

I mean, I guess I would be bad at it. I definitely don’t have sufficient practice and I certainly don’t have the notches in my belt like I am sure Cruz does. I open my mouth, mentally scrambling to think of something to say when Cruz beats me to the punch.

“I-I apologize,” he says under his breath, taking a half-step back.

I feel completely and utterly confused. Apologize? He was sorry for kissing me? Wow, I really must be bad at kissing.

“S-sorry?” I ask, taking the first breath I feel like I can manage in minutes. How long was that kiss anyway?

“Yes, I apologize. I hope you will forgive my abrupt and unannounced intentions,” says Cruz. “I was not thinking clearly.”

Panic seizes my chest, making it tight with anxiety, and I once again try to speak even though my vocal cords refuse to function properly. Instead, I barely manage a nod, which seems to shake loose my ability to speak.

“Yes, I-I… forgive you,” I sputter.

Heart still pounding in my chest, I inhale deeply and rub my lips together to even out what little lipstick is left. Cruz steps away and turns his piercing ocean eyes out to the garden while I take another moment to compose myself. I run my fingers through my hair and ruffle the tulle on my dress. Everything seems to be in place, but it doesn’t stop me from thinking that I look like a disheveled mess.

I glance around back toward the main place. Did anyone see? Why does it feel like there are a hundred sets of eyes on me right now? As I turn my eyes up to the main house, I see no one outside in the immediate vicinity.

I glance around the gazebo and do not see any kind of recording device. It doesn’t mean that there aren’t any cameras or recording devices, but it does absolutely nothing for my nerves.

My cheeks, red hot, and rosy, only now begin to stop burning when Cruz turns back to me. There is a determined look in his eyes. The other look of partial reservation seems to have completely vaporized at this point. He still has a little bit of a mischievous gleam in his eyes, but overall he looks as though nothing had happened. Not a stitch on his suit is out of place and I can’t help but take a moment to compose myself again as I look at him.

“Shall we return to the festivities?” asks Cruz, straightening his tie expectantly.

Nodding, I once again take his arm and let him lead me into the main house. It feels like I am at work; well, technically I am working by being here with Cruz, draped over his arm like a decorative scarf. I feel the eyes of all of the guests on me. I may as well be wearing one of my strapless corsets instead of a fancy dress by the way they are looking at me.

It is the look of disdain that really gets to me. Sure, I can manage people who stare at me like some kind of accessory or object to be obtained, but it is the look that I am lower and lesser than them that really gets under my skin. Can’t they see we are all just people, albeit from different backgrounds?

I keep a mantra in my head that keeps me smiling, even if it is partially faked. I am getting paid to be here in a pretty dress. I am getting paid to smile at a lavish party and have a good time. I do not have to kiss Cruz, even though the experience was a breathtaking one, and I do not have to sleep with him.

Smile.

Sit still and look pretty.

Keeping my chin as high as I dare, I keep smiling as Cruz guides me inside and past the crowd until we make it to a lavish dining hall. There are black silk tablecloths and candelabras on every table. Crystal bowls are on most of the tables, accompanied by ornate silverware and china set in a perfect line.

It feels like something out of a princess movie and, in a way, it is not far from the truth. This guy, according to my research, is a prince, making all of these people part of some sort of royalty.

I bite the inside of my cheek and smile politely at some of the nearby guests, but their dark, shark-like eyes merely stare back at me. There is no ounce of kindness in their eyes, nor do they look pleased that I am here with them.

Cruz, obviously picking up on the tenseness in my shoulders, leans forward and smiles at me.

“Take a breath and relax,” he says softly. “You are my guest and should be enjoying yourself. Here.” Cruz reaches over to a nearby passing tray of alcohol and snags me a glass of champagne with an elegant flare of his fingers.

I take it with about as much grace as an embarrassed teenager being called out by their teacher, and place the glass on the table, lacing my fingers around it.

“Thank you,” I say quietly. Only three minutes pass, leaving me no time to start up some kind of pleasant conversation with Cruz, before his family also comes and sits down at the same table, much to my dismay.

“Mother, Father,” says Cruz politely as the family joins and sits down across from the both of us.

My heart is pounding out of my chest.

Every inch of my body feels like it is crawling under the gaze of the predatory family members of Cruz Martinez. It is not like any feeling that I am used to, and I dare to take a larger-than-average sip of champagne. It is likely to make everyone talk, but I don’t care. This is me enjoying myself. I let the bubbles of the sparkling alcohol tingle my nose as I smile politely at Cruz’s family.

The horderves and first course come through and, for the most part, no one says anything. Honestly, I don’t feel like saying anything.

The dishes alone are spectacular and words can hardly describe the way the dishes are ornately plated. Each plate looks like a work of art and the flavor is mouthwatering. There are a few moments where I feel guilty knowing that my mother is probably sweating away in the kitchen at dinner, but I manage to keep up my smile to enjoy the evening.

Still, it is hard to stop and enjoy yourself when you are being stared down by the parents of your dinner date. Do they suspect that he kissed me outside? Did they see him kiss me? I need to check my appearance and make sure I don’t look completely unpresentable.

When there is a gap between different courses, I lean over to Cruz and quickly mutter, “I’ll be right back.”

He nods and casts a grin in my direction as I stand to make my way to the ladies' room which I spotted earlier when I was following Cruz through the crowd.

With as much elegance as I can muster, I stride past the tables to the side of the room where I walk parallel until I spot the magnificent and lavish door leading to the ladies' room. The sound of clinking silverware is suddenly muted when I duck into the restroom. Instantly, I’m hit once again with elegance.

There are two small chandeliers in the restroom here, which match the aesthetic of the black silk curtains in the changing areas and the crimson-colored walls. The area smelled of fresh flowers and big bank accounts.

What a fascinating way to live, completely surrounded by things not meant to be touched.

I duck into the first stall, struggling with my gown even in the large stall, and take a moment to myself before stepping out and washing my hands. Sure enough, when I see my reflection my lipstick is slightly faded. Sure, it could be from dinner, but I have a sneaking suspicion that Cruz had something to do with the rest of my lipstick fading.

I quickly reapply the gloss when I hear something behind me. The light in the room changes and fades back.

Someone just came into the ladies’ room with me.

As if in slow motion, I turn around and instantly come face to face with the sharp, shark-like eyes of Helena, Cruz’s mother. Her lip is curled as if in some silent snarl.

Did she follow me here?

Oh no!

Heart in my throat, I force a smile and start to walk around her when she forcibly steps in front of me, blocking my path. I’m used to men doing this kind of thing when I’m working, but they don’t scare me half as much as she does. She advances a step, forcing me to take a step backward, before speaking to me.

“I don’t know what he’s paid you to be here tonight, but I can offer you double what he can if you’ll leave him alone,” says Helena in a growling tone.

My heart rate jumps. Two million? It’s a nice chunk of change, but somehow I think she is the kind of woman who would know every loophole to avoid paying what someone is owed. I try and breathe calmly, even though my chest feels like it is under a ton of bricks.

Despite the panic this woman induces in me, I feel the urge to stick it to her. She wants to act like she is better than everyone else? She wants to be a Karen? I deal with this kind of person every day.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, ma’am, but I think it would be in poor taste to back out of a business deal without consulting my employer,” I say. I feel relatively pleased with myself and my response, but the loathing look she gives me tells me provoking her by standing my ground was definitely the wrong call.

“Do not pretend you are clever or special. Look at you. That dress is obviously second hand and your features are cheap like that gloss on your lips. You reek of the ordinary, and Cruz is extraordinary. You are obviously not a high enough caliber for my son and the only reason you are here is that he knew he could buy a cheap date on short notice,” spits Helena.

I clench my jaw. Was it that obvious that my dress was second-hand? I didn’t have much of a choice and I thought that I had done a good job tidying myself up.

Helena advances another step, but with my back to the sink counter, I can go nowhere else.

“Listen to me, and listen well child, you need to leave. Make up some excuse suitable for your type and do not see my son again, or else,” states Helena threateningly. “He is to be married to someone else, and the last thing this family needs is a commoner like you ruining everything we’ve worked for.”

I have no comeback for her insult. What could I say?

I am used to being handled harshly by the general populace, but something about her makes me feel small and insignificant.

I shouldn’t have come.

This was a mistake.

Without another word, I scoot around Helena and head for the door. I don’t remember my vision blurring, but I’m sure my eyes are misty and threatening to spill tears as I hurry toward the door.

I only make it three steps out of the main hall when I feel a tug on my arm. I whip around, ready to give whoever it is a piece of my mind, but I bite my tongue when I see Cruz is the one who has me by the arm.

“Are you all right?” he asks. I bite back my retort and simply look away. If I say anything right now, I am sure I’ll spill a few tears, which is far from what I want to do right now. “I saw my mother get up and follow you. I’m sorry I didn’t intervene. I was delayed in my reaction by my father.”

“It’s fine,” I choke out. “I just need to make it home. I’m sorry.”

Cruz is trying to catch my eye, but I’m making it hard on purpose by averting my eyes.

“Very well,” says Cruz. “No apologies needed. In fact, I am the one who should apologize for my family’s behavior. I didn’t think they would behave so poorly.”

I feel like rolling my eyes, but I’m afraid it will knock a few tears loose, so I refrain.

“I’ll call the car for you. I have some things to complete here. Perhaps we can fulfill our agreement some other time? I’ll keep in touch,” he says, fishing out his phone and hurriedly typing in a text, undoubtedly summoning the car.

“Sure thing,” I mutter. “Thank you for having me. This was a great experience.”

Cruz stares at me unbelievingly but says nothing else until the car arrives. He opens the door for me, bids me goodbye, and shuts the door.

I manage to keep myself from crying until I make it home and slip into the bathroom. Mopping up the tears from my face and cleaning up the make-up, I manage to make up a good excuse for my puffy eyes when I step out of my room in my oversized shirt to spend the rest of the evening with my parents.

Was I going to see Cruz again?

Was he actually engaged?

Was I supposed to be one last fling before he settled into married life?

One thing I knew for sure — I still needed that money, and that meant I needed to continue to see him over the next month while he is in New York.

Little did I know that I would be seeing him much sooner than I anticipated.