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y lips simply took his, and I felt him freeze. Nonetheless, I was too overwhelmed with passion, so I ignored his reaction and continued my own desires by deepening the kiss, forcing his lips to open. My tongue parted his lips, consuming him without reservations. It took him a second, maybe a few more, before he finally took hold of the situation and kissed me just as ardently, just as feverishly, devouring my lips as if they were a decadent piece of chocolate.

The sudden progress of how quickly things shifted between us left me reeling at how consumed he was.

I wasn’t sure why I had done it. The moment was a sudden rush of heightened awareness. His close proximity, his intoxicating male essence drugged me into an exquisite stupor. Then my lips became possessed and took over, expelling what little inhibitions I had left.

Being this close to him—having his lips mesh against mine in a heated, erotic kiss—was beyond anything I had ever experienced. Nothing came close. Nothing could compare. One kiss was all it took for me to know I was more than unhealthily attracted to Cruz. I was, in fact, epically crushing on him.

My corrupt thoughts came to a sudden pause when the man whose lips I had technically raped and ambushed decided to halt, and he looked me in the eye with such profound severity that I literally forgot to breathe for a few seconds.

Those eyes … Those beautiful, magnetic eyes made my heart skip not one, not two, but many beats. When it regained its momentum, my heart was beating erratically.

“We should head back,” he murmured in a croaky voice, which made me think of hot sex. And lots of it.

With my tinted cheeks, I didn’t recoil from his powerful gaze. “Yeah … um … we should.” I tried to sound normal, unsure of where his mood was. Was he upset about my impulsive actions? Was it too slutty for me to advance on a man who didn’t make the first move to kiss me? He wasn’t necessarily being cold, but there was something amiss. I could feel him thinking deeply, and I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing.

Getting up from the cool, stone bench, I followed him out of the beautiful place, but before fully exiting, I twisted my body one more time to get another glimpse of it, knowing all too well I wasn’t ever going to forget this place or this particular memory.

There was something about him that drew me towards him in the most nonsensical way. It was indescribable, and even though I wasn’t sure where this was heading, I knew the chemistry between us existed. It was palpable. If he couldn’t feel it, then he must have some sort of chemical imbalance because, fuck, I could literally feel the electric current bouncing off us, ready to spark fire. Suffice to say, however, my self-preservation was in effect, helping to settle my relentless hormones.

Sending him a quick glance, I noted how tense he was. His posture and his hands in his pockets didn’t give me the kind of reassurance I needed. Regardless, instead of prying into his thoughts, I resorted to the waiting game, hoping the tension would disappear, and he would be back to his gorgeous smiles and unending teases.

Striding back out to the main garden, I emerged near the line of trees as the spell of that secret spot gradually disintegrated, and I was placed back in reality. Question after question hounded my thoughts, wondering what major consequences I had to deal with after that bold kiss.

We didn’t speak at all as we retraced our steps to the house. Then, the second we reached the French doors, he led us through before halting his steps to face me.

He had unreadable expression across his handsome face, giving nothing away. “I’ll bid my goodnight here, Serena,” he uttered in a tone teachers would use if they had caught someone cheating.

His stern attitude made me crumble inside from humiliation and rejection. My pride was beyond injured, but I still managed to give him a genuine smile through my pain.

“Goodnight, Cruz.”

As I slowly took my leave, I thankfully managed to remember which direction led towards my bedroom. Although I could feel his eyes on me, watching me closely as I walked away from him, he didn’t say a word to soothe or reassure me. He simply let me walk, thinking I had made a fool of myself, that maybe I was unworthy of him.

This negativity continued as I brushed my teeth and changed, but before I managed to fall asleep after a couple of hours of torturing myself, I made a vow that I wouldn’t let Cruz Elliot affect this once in a lifetime opportunity. No matter how much the man evoked strong reactions and emotions from me, I just had to stand my ground, regroup, and get over it.

The next day, Anne came in to greet me before announcing that breakfast was going to be served in half an hour. Sleepy and still partially hallucinating, thinking I was still back in my bed in Los Angeles, I stared back at her with my squinting eyes, disheveled hair, and a look that screamed what the fuck? After all, where I came from, no one cooked anyone breakfast. If you found yourself hungry, you made toast or popped a frozen waffle in the toaster, whatever was convenient. To wake up to such an untraditional thing, I was instantly reminded of where I was and what I had done last night.

The horror of my mistake last night made me contemplate getting out of bed and facing the man who had made me feel less confident of myself. It was daunting to think of conversing with him, let alone being in the same room and sharing the same table as we talked about menial things that I couldn’t care less about. However, this was part of being human and living in a civilized world—most especially on this part of the map—where class and decorum were high on everyone’s list.

It wasn’t as if I didn’t have class—I believed I did, though I hadn’t exercised much of it last night—or the fact that my display of decorum was nil. It was just that I felt as if I had gone in over my head, and I wasn’t sure how to act around these affluent people. Never again would I dare wear a denim skirt when I had to be surrounded by rich kids. I wouldn’t put myself through that kind of ordeal. It was just too much for anyone to handle.

I was better than this. I kept telling myself that no one should ever have the right to make me doubt myself. However, it was hard to convince myself when my ego and pride had taken a beating from Cruz’s standoffish attitude last night. The need to curl up and sleep through the day, using jetlag as my excuse, was truly tempting, but my parents had taught me better than that. At a young age, manners had been ingrained in my head. Therefore, instead of opting to save myself from more hurt and insanity, I reluctantly rolled off the bed, slowly dragging my feet to the bathroom to get ready to face the music.

Just a little bit over half an hour later, I left my bedroom to head downstairs. I was dressed in an all black outfit, leggings and cami that matched my comfortable flats. My hair was knotted into a messy bun that crowned my head. And as for war paint, I didn’t use much: a smear of concealer, a coat of mascara, and some blinding, bright red lipstick to mask my battered confidence.

Red on my lips meant business. It stated I was not to be fucked with, because I would chew anyone who crossed me. The fallacy had worked wonders for me over the years, and I had never needed this kind of armor more than today.

With my head held high, I strolled into the dining area and was astounded to find it empty. It took about a minute to recover from this nice surprise before realizing this could be a great excuse to simply retrace my steps and call it a day. Of course, before I could spin around and shimmy away, a sound from the front door made me freeze, and without a chance to breathe, in came the man of my hellish dreams, looking well rested and relaxed.

“Serena.” He nodded towards me while I stood immobilized as he approached me with cool indifference. “I hope you rested well.”

Okay … He was acting as if nothing had happened between us. I could do that, too; be unconcerned and all. How hard could it be?

“Where is everyone?” I asked, taking a seat right across from him and eyeing him like he wasn’t a delicious sin to be savored, but more like a revolting pickle. God, how I loathed and detested pickles. I hated them with a passion. Speaking of passion, it was the same damn feeling that had gotten me into this awkward position. Next time—well, I had better make sure there wasn’t a next time. Period.

“Mother should be down any moment now,” he informed me as he poured himself coffee. “And as for Archer, he’s still out and about town, as expected.”

Archer. If he was here, he would lighten the strained tension between us. Unfortunately, he was probably still with that ex of his. She was too much to handle in my opinion. Then again, men did like their women a little crazy, didn’t they? That was what my ex Aaron told me one time while trying to make a point of me being too boring at times when I opposed getting drunk on a nightly basis.

Partying during weekends was one thing, but every single day of the week? I just couldn’t do it. Not only didn’t I have the capacity to party like a damn animal, but I just didn’t see the point of being in a constant state of inebriation. It was depressing. Besides, I had classes to attend, and I couldn’t go in one with beer goggles on. It wasn’t my thing. I supposed my decision of wanting to have a better GPA than the average college drunk of 2.0 paved the freedom for his cheating ways.

Ugh. The last thing I needed to harp upon today was Aaron. Shit happened, right?

Plucking up a piece of fresh, oven-baked bread, I welcomed the warmth of it against my fingers. The aromatic scent wafted to me the second I pulled it apart, making me salivate. I supposed there were really nice perks being this rich. I could get used to this kind of breakfast on a daily basis.

Chewing on the lightly buttered bread, I poured myself a cup of coffee. The smell of it alone reminded me of last night and how gorgeous he had looked navigating the kitchen as he made cappuccinos.

Speaking of the man, he was consumed in the newspaper rather than trying to converse with me. Not only had his rejection last night stung, but making it too apparent that it was unmentionable this morning made it worse. It was like getting a paper cut. Though it was tiny, the pain it produced was hard to dismiss because all the focus of your body’s stressors honed in on it.

I wished for a do-over since Cruz was great with me before I moronically kissed him. If I could restart, this moment was as good as any. I just had to cough up the strength and get over my pride.

Glancing across the table, I cleared my throat, ready to wave the white flag of surrender simply to be on friendly terms again.

“You seem to have started your day early. Did you just come back from working in the office?”

Without bothering to look up from his reading material, he responded, “No, I came from my own place, though I stay here infrequently during weekends from time to time.”

So he had left last night.

“Oh. Okay.” That made sense, I supposed. He was, after all, a grown man whose age I still hadn’t discovered.

Before I had the chance to inquire, Margery strolled in with a soft smile on her face.

“Mother.” Cruz smiled at her before getting up from his seat and striding to meet her. Then he guided her to the head of the table, pulling out the chair and waiting for her to take her seat before retreating back to his own. “You’re looking better today, Mum. That new prescription worked better as opposed to the first one, I take it?”

“Yes, my dear son. There’s no need to fret. I’m fine … Really, I am.” She reached out to touch her son’s hand then lightly tapped it, as if to reassure him. They shared a moment of understanding before she turned her attention towards me, bestowing me the same warm smile. “How did last night go? I hope you had fun,” she asked without taking her eyes off me, as though she was waiting for my immediate response.

Fun? Yeah, way too much if I say so myself.

Pasting a strained smile on, I had to squash that small, guilty feeling that surfaced out of nowhere, catching me off guard. “It was good fun.”

“Good.” She nodded, assured, then murmured a kind thank you to her son who had just made her coffee, complete with milk and sugar. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to attend the Ainsworth’s party tonight. Do you mind going with just Ivy?” She expectantly glanced over her son while Cruz simply bore an impassive look.

Who was Ivy? His girlfriend? Fuck. Well, why was he being all too friendly with me at the bar then? I wouldn’t dare flirt with anyone’s man. I wasn’t that twisted a thrill seeker.

Clearing his throat, he nodded. “I will have to check with her. If anything, I could go by myself.”

Margery’s face turned soft, still gazing at him like she was expecting something more. “I don’t mean to pry, but have you two set a date yet? It’s been almost eight months since the engagement and still no word when the wedding will be.”

I choked on the scalding hot coffee that was about to be washed down my throat. Softly tapping my chest, I forced myself to breathe before croaking out, “Excuse me.”

“Are you all right, dear?” Margery held my hand, worriedly eyeing me as if I was about to faint or something. Well, thank goodness I didn’t. That would have been embarrassing. I didn’t need any more reasons to feel humiliated.

“I’m fine. Thank you.” I made a pained smile, hoping it was enough to convince her to get back to prying into her son’s personal life.

ENGAGED? Fuck me. Fuck me bad.

What had I been thinking? I knew it. Cruz was too good to be true. Sigh.

Much to my dismay, Cruz skipped answering his mother. Instead, he spoke about employees and business dealings and prospects.

While he engaged his mother with business updates, I, on the other hand, wanted to know more. I felt as though I was owed answers. It was stupid to think this way, yet it was how I felt. It was hard to justify why that was.

Throughout the time he was with me, he never once mentioned anything about Ivy or his engagement. I wouldn’t have missed that kind of info, knowing how glued I was to him last night, so why had he not disclosed this major factor?

“Serena?” Margery gave me an expectant look.

I blinked a few times, wondering what I had missed. “Sorry, what?” I mumbled, hoping I hadn’t offended her with my flighty mind.

“Your mother mentioned that you needed internship hours. I thought it would be a brilliant idea if Cruz takes you under his wing. It would be a good opportunity for you—”

“Wait, Mum, we need—” he tried to argue, looking ready to combust, but Margery was unrelenting.

“I know it might be odd and difficult for you for a short while, but you will get used to it. Besides, Serena’s like family. Her mother and I agreed that it would be a fantastic prospect for her. It’s already agreed upon. Let’s not try making me break my word to my friend.”

Obviously seeing the tension in Cruz’s reaction, I knew I had to pacify the situation.

“I don’t think that’s necessary, Margery, but thank you. My school offers a list of companies that will gladly open their arms for these things.”

“Are you implying that my company won’t be the best candidate for internships? Because let me assure you, it wouldn’t be featured in Fortune Global 500 if it weren’t,” Cruz justified with pride and a dash of arrogance.

Well, I had no idea what I was declining to begin with. But Fortune Global 500? Fuck. Having that attached to my resume would be beyond impressive; it would be astounding.

“I wasn’t trying to be rude. I just thought it would be better if you weren’t forced to do it out of kindness to me and my mom.” It was too obvious he didn’t want me working for him, and I couldn’t fault him for that. It was his company, after all, so it was his decision, plain and simple.

Masking his reaction, he threw me a steady look. “No one forces me to do anything, Serena,” he stated in a matter of fact tone before eyeing me with such intensity that I almost forgot to breathe. “You can begin on Monday after you finish with your classes.”

I was flabbergasted. What had just happened here?

“Mon-day?” I stupidly stammered, astonished at his rapid change of heart.

“That’s splendid!” Margery gleefully exclaimed while I still kept openly staring at Cruz, my soon-to-be boss.

Fuck. Me.