Chapter 5 : Ambushed

Haven’s POV

Every part of me feels tense. My skin is burning hot with frustration and anger. How dare this woman? Commoner? Excuse the fuck out of me!

I am flabbergasted. I am utterly gobsmacked. A pit that feels like a black hole forms in my gut and begins twisting my insides. The cotton feeling in my mouth suddenly seems like Death Valley, devoid of all moisture and life.

Whoever this woman is, I do not like her.

Sadly, she holds herself with an air of supreme importance, as if she is head and shoulders above everyone else. She looks familiar. Why? I definitely know her face, but I know she and I have not met in person.

A quick glance from Cruz to this older woman tells me one extremely crucial detail - this is his mother, Helena Martinez. I recognize her only now from the online pictures, but this is definitely Cruz’s mother.

She looked intimidating in her pictures online, but only now standing here in front of her do I realize how much shit I am actually in.

She has dark eyes that feel hollow and dead, almost like the eyes of a shark. The little bit of a snarl threatening to curl her lip at me reminds me of a lioness preparing to strike. The confidence of a queen and a look to slay even the strong-willed. These are the signs of a dangerous woman.

These predatory eyes are obviously quick to evaluate and, for me, it means that she can tell my whole life’s story in a single glance.

Venomously, she shoots another glare at me before turning her attention to her son. She practically ignores my entire existence and, possibly for the best, starts talking to him like I am not even there.

“This is neither the time nor place for one of your rebellious phases,” spits Helena, her thick Spanish accent feeling like a lashing whip against exposed flesh. She tries to grab Cruz’s arm to lead him away, but he manages to stand firm.

“Mother, this is not one of my rebellious phases. You told me to bring a guest to the event tonight, and I elected to bring Miss Haven. If you wanted or required me to bring someone specific, perhaps you should have—”

“You know better,” shoots Cruz’s mother bitterly. “You know perfectly well that you needed to bring Juan since Liliana is still in Madrid. She is your fiancee, after all, so you need to remember that while you’re here.”

Hearing this, my stomach does a backflip.

Fiancee?

He is engaged!

I bite the inside of my cheek until my mouth threatens to taste the iron of my blood. I knew coming here and seeing him for some kind of special event was a bad idea.

Fuck, I am such an idiot!

This is just a ploy! This is just some kind of stupid rich boy's ploy to rebel against his family. From what I read about Cruz Martinez’s nightlife, this is exactly the sort of thing that he would do.

It feels like every set of eyes in the nearby vicinity is on me, making me squirm. I am used to prying eyes being on me, watching my every move, but somehow it feels different now that I am dressed up at this event with all of these well-to-do aristocrats.

Instinctively, I fold my arms lightly around my midsection and try to avert my eyes from the onlookers. I know it is a defensive position and it probably makes me look weak in front of this insanely savage mother, but it makes me feel better and I don’t really care what anyone thinks of me at the moment. I’m embarrassed enough as it is.

“Mother, I am not engaged, as you well know, and you know better than to bring it up in public. As I am sure you are aware, there is press at every turn,” states Cruz. There is a cocky grin teasing the edge of his lips that I manage to catch out of the corner of my eye. Waves of confusion mingle with my hurricane thoughts.

Wait… he isn’t engaged?

More importantly, why do I even care? Is it because I feel tricked into coming here? Is it because I feel used?

Whatever.

I do not really care about this guy and what is going on. What I care about is the business deal we made, if that is even still on the table.

“Cruz, do not make a scene,” says Cruz’s mother. She turns her dead shark eyes to me for the second time and, very plainly, dismisses me with a wave of her hand as she says, “You need to leave now.”

I do not need to be told twice. I turn around to leave, but Cruz sweeps his arm around my waist and pulls me to him with a firm tug.

“Miss Haven is my guest, Mother, and you will not dismiss her so casually. You will treat her with the respect she deserves as my guest,” states Cruz, the same venomous tone in his voice that was in his mother’s voice. “As for Liliana, apologize to her for me, since you talk to her the most, after all.”

Cruz, with his arm still around my waist, begins guiding me toward the front entrance.

“Cruz, you are behaving like a juvenile,” Helena practically growls her statement with a dangerous undertone. “Stop this foolish behavior.”

At this, Cruz rounds on her, relinquishing his grip on my waist, and glares at his mother. Those piercing blue eyes of his, just for a moment, make my heart flutter.

“Mother, you are not allowed to dictate every aspect of my life,” spits Cruz.

“Because you are doing such a fine job on your own. You are disregarding every privilege you have been given and squandering the best opportunities offered to you,” argues Helena as she scurries to be on the other side of Cruz, facing him head-on.

“What is going on here?” growls a new voice just behind me. Every nerve on edge, I dare to turn around and see another set of shark-like eyes staring down at me. This man has a sharp jawline and I recognize him immediately as Cruz’s father, though his name escapes me just like my sense of security.

“Nothing,” states Cruz. “Father, this is my guest for this evening, Miss Haven.” Cruz gestures to me, but I fail to extend my hand or introduce myself properly, not that Cruz’s father seems to mind.

“That is all very well, but I must insist that you keep your argument to a minimum. We have guests who require attending to and, with all due respect Cruz, you really should have consulted the family before inviting an outsider to the event,” states Cruz’s father as he turns to me. “No disrespect, ma’am, but such events are usually attended by…”

“Father, Mother, I respect you and your concern for my well-being, but you asked me to bring a guest and, by all accounts, I have brought a suitable guest. Now, if you will excuse me,” says Cruz as he once again tries to escort me up the stairs.

This time, Cruz’s father catches his arm and glares at him. Those shark-like eyes that have me quaking in my heels glare at Cruz.

“Son, this is a formal event. Know your place.” It sounds like a threat, and it is obviously taken that way as Cruz yanks his arm away from his father’s grasp.

“Whose life am I supposed to live? Mine? Or yours?”

I watch, absolutely panic-stricken, as Cruz suddenly whisks himself away up the stairs toward the main entrance of the event hall, leaving me behind.

I have no idea what possesses me, but I know I do not want to be left alone with a potential feeding frenzy. I grab at the fabric on the front of my dress and practically sprint after Cruz, silently cursing my average height stride compared to the behemoth of a man storming off in front of me. As we walk, another sensation seizes my chest, and I know what this sensation is.

Pity.

Yes, I was feeling an extreme amount of panic and anxiety being here with all of these fancy, well-to-do people, but I was also feeling pity pounding in my chest.

At this moment, I feel bad for this playboy prince who decided to bring me to this event.

Was it because of the lack of choice?

Was it because, like me, he was trapped in circumstance?

We pass by dozens of people whose eyes seem to seek us out like blood in the water. Every set of eyes on me feels predatory and dark, threatening me with unseen power. I have no idea where I am and I have no idea where we are going, but the next thing I know is that the two of us slip past the crowds of people, out of the back door, and into a beautiful garden area next to a gorgeous stone gazebo which is devoid of people.

Cruz immediately begins pacing like a caged lion, arms behind his back as his hands are clenched into fists. There is a small vein in his temple that is clearly throbbing, and his teeth are grinding ever so slightly.

I am used to seeing guys not always getting what they want at the club, but here I don’t have the benefit of door guys and bouncers throwing out the dickheads. More importantly, I do not have to deal with these people because I am not the one who was performing sexual acts on the disgruntled employee who wanted a little more bang for his buck.

Instead, I watch Cruz for several minutes as he paces back and forth in total silence. After several minutes of silence and feeling like a complete fool, I decided to take an active role in the situation. I may not be able to completely relate to Cruz, but I can try and make him feel better. The other girls seem to think I am pretty good at it anyway.

“Hey,” I say softly, taking a step forward. I want to reach out to him, but I keep my arms folded across my chest. I still feel the need to keep myself secure by keeping my arms around my midsection.

When he doesn’t say anything, I decide to try again.

“Hey,” I say again, this time a little more forcefully.

Cruz continues to pace. It looks like he is having some kind of silent verbal battle in his head. I step forward and block his bath, which immediately makes his piercing blue eyes fixate on me.

“Not now,” he growls before continuing his pacing.

I bristle. As he makes it to the opposite end of the gazebo, I march forward and stand forcefully in front of him.

“Yes, now,” I say forcefully. This makes him stop and stare at me. For a moment, I see the same glare that his mother and father both gave him in his eyes, which makes my insides churn. These people are definitely related.

Cruz looks at me expectantly and says nothing. I take it as an invitation to continue speaking. I lower my voice and speak gently. This guy is obviously agitated, but there is another rebellious side that I think I can tap into.

“Look, I get it. Weirdly enough, I get it. You don’t need to have money to see what’s going on. Not having the power to get a say in your own life is miserable,” I say, daring to unfold one of my arms and extend my hand to grasp at Cruz’s arm. “I know I don’t know you, but I read people quickly. Occupational hazard. It’s obvious you are not like them, but it is also obvious they care about you.”

Cruz shoots me a momentary glare, but his brow slowly softens.

“I don’t really know why you wanted me to come here. Maybe it is some kind of ploy to get back at your parents. Maybe you thought I was a half-decent selection. I have no idea what your motives are, but what I know is that this is a party and you invited me to have a good time,” I say. I give a little smile in an attempt to coax him out of his shell.

“A good time?” mutters Cruz. I see a ghost of a smile tug at the corner of his lips. Whatever I was saying was obviously reaching him.

“Yes,” I say. “Now… let’s go back inside, get some drinks, and…”

Before I can say anything else, I am suddenly spun around so my back is against a pillar of the stone gazebo. My heart is instantly in my throat and, before I know what is going on, Cruz’s lips descend and latch onto my lips, sending a jolt of excitement down my spine.