Chapter 7 : Fascination and Frustration

Cruz’s POV

Numb blackness surrounds me. My eyes feel tired and dry, which makes for an irritating combination. What else is new? Recently, it feels like I have only been irritated and tired, and I had a sneaking suspicion I knew exactly why I was feeling this way.

I lean my head back against the headrest of the seat, keeping my eyes closed, and breathe deeply. The engine of the SUV hums all around me, doing nothing for the threatening headache resting by my temple.

Instead of focusing on the things that are irritating me, I run through the bullet points for my upcoming business meeting that I am currently traveling to.

Sales will grow a minimum of thirty-seven percent.

Profits over the next year can easily double if not triple.

Consolidation of physical locations will lead to a lower overhead cost.

Tax season is coming up fast and liquidating certain assets will be beneficial for reducing what is owed to our governments.

It is a fair trade and you are still in control.

This last thought brings a flashbulb memory from the night before when I watched Haven exit the limousine.

She certainly was in control the moment she stepped out of the vehicle. Her presence alone holds a timid confidence that holds more untapped potential than the business deal I am preparing to give. I see her in that lavender dress, blushing and awestruck by the lavish splendor of the event.

The unnecessary pomp and circumstance had her quiet for most of the evening, but I had to admit that, somehow, she was able to say just what I needed to hear when she accompanied me to the gazebo.

I inhale deeply, catching the lingering scent of her body wash from my memory. Was it her body wash or her personal scent that imprinted itself in my memory? More importantly, was I mistaken that when her lips parted a wave of heat rushed through her body?

I see her scarlet cheeks in the abyss of darkness just beyond my eyes. I can practically feel the warmth of her skin on my fingertips.

What was it about this woman that had me enamored? I was going to find out one way or another.

“You have that look on your face.”

I grin and open my eyes, casting a tired glance at my best friend and greatest ally Juan Pedro. We have been friends ever since I can remember. Heavily vetted by my parents, Juan had the “privilege” of being my friend, being of the appropriate status and socioeconomic background “suitable for my standards” or rather my parents’ standards.

Still, none of that mattered when it was just the two of us. Not only was he my business partner, but he was also my closest friend. Finances and titles meant nothing when we were in one another’s company.

Right here, right now, he and I can be two guys on our way to a business meeting.

“Well?” he asks expectantly. He leans back, unbuttoning his vest and jacket, and loosens his tie as he tussles his freshly cut black hair. “Who is she?”

I smile at the thought of Haven as Juan mentions an anonymous “her” but let the pause linger just a little longer before answering his question.

“No one and, oddly enough, someone I am still trying to figure out,” I mutter. I glance quickly at the driver who, according to our personal agreement, pretends that the conversation is not happening and continues to drive.

“Yeah, man, this whole talking in riddles thing only works on the ladies. Come on! Who is she?” asks Juan again. The look he gives me tells me that I need to come clean and be frank with him.

“I met her during one of my evening outings,” I reply. Juan rolls his dark eyes and crosses one leg over the other.

“Meaning a bar. Which one?” asks Juan. “Come on. Don’t make this like pulling teeth. Spill.”

I chuckle and roll my eyes before confessing.

“And here I was trying to be polite and subtle. Fine. I met her at Midnight’s Cocktails two days ago. She is one of the waitresses, at least I assume so, and I knew the moment I saw her that I needed to get to know her more,” I reply.

Saying it out loud makes me sound a bit like a cad, but Juan hasn’t heard the second part, which will undoubtedly confirm my perceived character which the tabloids have had a field day with.

“That’s the one place you told me about, right?” asks Juan. I nod in response, which makes Juan whistle in an impressive tone. “So, she’s gorgeous, naturally. Have you sealed the deal yet? Because, if I’m not mistaken, you left the event last night alone.”

“No, I haven’t closed the deal on this one just yet, but we have an arrangement,” I state, knowing immediately that Juan is going to question me.

“An arrangement? I’m sure that is being polite for payment,” says Juan. “I have to hand it to you, you have your way with the ladies. I would have thought your shining personality would be enough to get her attention, but she held out for the money. Impressive.”

“I certainly agree. I even helped get her out of a bad situation. A few other bar patrons took interest in her and I stopped them from harming her. Still, she didn’t let me take her home,” I reply, finding a hint of affection in my voice mixed with admiration. It was indeed genuine, which I found to be a bit surprising, to say the least.

Obviously, hearing my tone is what makes Juan sit up and look at me keenly. His observant eyes and penetrating gaze have this annoying way of peering into the depths of my mind, reading every thought that crosses it.

“She sounds like quite the lady,” he says softly. “Which begs the question of whether or not you are going to see her again.”

“Of course. Our time was interrupted and our agreement is that we have several outings with one another for the transaction to be complete,” I say, trying to rein in my tone and gain control over myself. I am too late, unfortunately.

“Interrupted? By whom?” asks Juan, the look in his eyes saying that he already suspects the culprits.

“Who else do you think would interrupt some good old-fashioned fun?” I ask. I look out the window and watch as the windows and buildings pass by the car as we speed through the lights.

“Probably why you went home alone too, huh?” Juan mutters.

Hearing this, I let my thoughts slip out of my head and speak them aloud.

“I understand why they’re so overprotective, but I am not a child anymore. They can’t dictate every facet of my life. I am allowed some pleasures in life, and they need to learn to take a step away from the situation,” I mutter.

“And Liliana?”

Just then, my phone rings. I glance down and feel my insides clench in frustration.

“Speak of the devil,” I sigh, showing Juan my caller I.D. He gives me a pitying glance before shrugging.

“It’ll be worse if you ignore it,” he points out. I nod in agreement before swiping the green answer call button.

“Martinez,” I say mechanically as I hold the phone up to my ear.

“Cruz? It’s Liliana,” she says. I smile to myself when I pick up on her accent. Her accent is always thicker when she is upset.

“I know. Caller I.D. One of those new inventions of the twenty-first century. This needs to be important. I’m about to go into a business meeting and I need to prepare,” I say, letting my business tone take over.

“Then I’ll be brief and get right to the point. Who was that you were with last night?” she demands. The line crackles as her tone breaks, which makes me grin. She sounds angry.

Good.

She’s the reason my evening was ruined; that and my mother, but I can hardly be vindictive toward her.

“A woman. You should be familiar with the term seeing you are supposed to be one,” I reply.

“Don’t be rude!” Liliana shouts, making the line crackle again. “You know very well that you were supposed to bring me to that event last night. Tell me who that woman is!”

The headache that was starting to ease suddenly spikes and pierces my temple. I try and massage it away.

“Why does it matter? You’re still in Madrid anyway,” I say, trying to change the subject. It makes me feel better, at least emotionally. It’s like playing keep-away from a small child, and Liliana takes the bait.

“Why does it matter?” she shrieks. “It matters because we are engaged! The newspapers are having a field day with the pictures going around. All of the tabloids are demanding interviews with me, asking how I am coping with your immature behavior. This is serious! Your mother and I agree that this is unacceptable and are arranging a press conference to address the issue. You’re expected there…”

“Excuse me? Address the issue? I decided to take a lovely woman to a dinner where I was supposed to bring a guest. I’ve done nothing wrong,” I retort. “And, furthermore, we are not engaged, Liliana. I think you of all people would know if I had proposed to you. You would have a ring on your finger and I would invite you to events like, for example, dinner parties.”

“You are being immature,” scolds Liliana.

“And you are being annoying and uncivil, so we are square in my opinion,” I retort. “Liliana, unless you have something important to say…”

“This is important, Cruz!” Liliana shouts again, making my ears ring. “This is about our futures. You are not the only one who this affects, and unless you want an expose on your little plaything, you need to clean up your act and start acting like an adult. You’re a pr—”

I don’t bother listening to the rest. I hang up the phone and immediately put my phone on silent. I know what she was going to say.

You’re a prince.

You need to act your age.

Stop being rebellious and cliche, it’s unattractive.

Juan, thankfully, says nothing for the rest of the car ride, which allows me to sit and fester in my thoughts.

Who was she to tell me how I needed to behave? She sounds exactly like my mother; probably one of the reasons I always have such an adverse reaction to speaking to Liliana at every turn.

Does she think I am going to just wake up and fall in love with her?

Does she think I care what she or anyone else thinks about me?

I didn’t choose this life, so why should I have to play by its rules?

What is the harm in a quiet, normal life?

My mind flashes once again to the gorgeous woman I kissed the night before.

Haven.

What kind of life did she enjoy where she wasn’t mandated to attend lavish parties and pretend to play nice with political figureheads and investors?

The moment the vehicle stops, I practically leap out of the car and make my way straight for the open bar that I know will be in the conference room. Lord knows I need it with everything going on in my life.

Anger clenching my gut, I hurry inside with Juan at my side. He fastens his jacket closed and opens the door for me as I hurry inside. I glance at my phone and see the dozen missed calls from both Liliana and my mother. My phone is already piling up with text messages from them as well.

I open my messages and stare at Haven’s name, which I already have programmed into my phone. This is the only thing that brings a smile to my lips as I wait for the bartender to serve me.

It goes without saying that I know what I am doing tomorrow night.