Haven

The leather seats of the Valeriane’s SUV felt too expensive for my jeans, even if I was dressed to kill. I stared out the window, watching the tropical greenery blur into a smudge of emerald. Beside me, Estelle was humming, oblivious to the fact that her father clearly wanted me anywhere but in his car.

Mr. Valeriane hated me. It wasn't a secret. He thought I was the "bad influence" dragging his honors-student daughter into the gutter because I had a habit of letting profanities fly when I got excited. But here I was, crashing a high-end resort party for a cousin I’d never met.

"I shouldn't be here, Estelle," I muttered, my voice low. "Your cousin doesn't even know I exist. I’m going to look like a stray cat at a dog show."

"Shut up, Haven," Estelle nudged me. "You’re eighteen. You’re gorgeous. Just pretend you own the place."

I looked down at my outfit. I’d gone all out. Beneath my cover-up, I was wearing a swimsuit that cost more than my monthly allowance, hugging curves I usually kept hidden. If I was going to be an intruder, I was going to be the most beautiful one there. My parents’ voices echoed in my head, a rhythmic warning: 'No alcohol. Stay sober. Don't let Estelle out of your sight.' Easy for them to say. They didn't know the itch of being eighteen and single since birth, wanting to feel something intense but being too terrified to actually dive in.

The car slowed to a crawl as we entered the resort gates. White sand, turquoise pools, and the kind of people who smelled like old money and expensive sunblock.

I was lost in a daydream about finding someone—someone who could finally make me want to break my own rules—when a sharp sting on my thigh snapped me back to reality.

"SHI—!"

Estelle’s hand slapped over my mouth before the curse could echo through the car. Her eyes were dancing with mischief.

"We're here," she whispered, her palm still warm against my lips.

"Estelle, you go first," Mrs. Valeriane said from the front seat, her tone clipped.

We scrambled out of the car. The heat hit me instantly, thick and humid. The moment the door clicked shut, I swung my hand and landed a solid smack on Estelle’s arm.

"Why would you hit me like that?!" I hissed, rubbing my own leg where she’d stung me.

Estelle just laughed, clutching her arm while she led the way toward the main pool area. "You were spaced out. I had to bring you back to earth somehow. Come on, I think I see Angelica."

The party was a sea of tanned skin and designer eyewear. I felt the weight of a hundred stares, or maybe I was just projecting. We navigated through the crowd until a girl with a blinding smile intercepted us.

"Estelle!"

"Happy birthday, coz!" Estelle pulled the girl, Angelica, into a tight hug. "You look incredible. Seriously, look at you."

Angelica pulled back, beaming. "Thank you! And look at you, Miss Highest Honor. I heard you’re still killing it in class. Congrats, Elle!"

Estelle winced, her face flushing a deep crimson. "I told you not to use that nickname. It’s literal trash."

Angelica’s gaze shifted then, landing on me. Her eyes traveled from my face down to my legs, assessing. "And who is this?"

"This is my best friend, Haven," Estelle introduced us.

I forced a smile, extending a hand. I felt like a fraud, but I kept my shoulders back. "Nice to meet you, Angelica. Happy birthday. Thanks for having me."

"Oh my god, of course! Any friend of Estelle’s is welcome. You are stunning, by the way."

Before I could respond, a woman’s voice boomed from the bar area. "Angelica! Your mom needs you!"

"Duty calls," Angelica sighed, giving us a quick wave. "Talk later, okay? Drink something!"

She disappeared into the crowd. I stood there, the bass of the music thumping in my chest. Suddenly, the air changed. The scent of salt and chlorine was sliced through by something heavy, expensive, and devastatingly masculine. It was woodsy, spiced with a hint of something dark and clean.

"Girl," I whispered, leaning toward Estelle. "Do you smell that? It’s... holy shit."

"I smell it," Estelle breathed, her eyes widening as she looked past my shoulder. "Oh my god. Haven, turn around. Slowly."

I turned.

He was standing less than three feet away. He was tall, dressed in a tailored linen shirt unbuttoned just enough to show a glimpse of bronzed skin. His jawline looked like it had been carved out of granite, and his eyes were a piercing, predatory shade of brown.

"Girl," Estelle hissed under her breath, her voice trembling. "That’s him. That’s Jace Blackwood. The billionaire. The perfume mogul. That’s literally his scent."

The man—Blackwood—heard her. His gaze shifted, locking onto mine with the precision of a heat-seeking missile. A slow, devastating smirk spread across his face, one that promised trouble and felt like a physical touch against my skin.

"Me?" he said, his voice a deep, vibrating rumble that skipped past my ears and went straight to my stomach. "I am Jace Blackwood."

He didn't look away. He stared at me like I was the only person in the entire crowded resort, his eyes darkened with a sudden, sharp interest that made my breath hitch in my throat. My heart hammered against my ribs, and for the first time in my life, I forgot every single bad word I knew.

Jace

The heat in the boardroom was stifling, or maybe it was just the itch of my suit jacket. I’m twenty-nine, I run this company, and yet I still feel like a kid playing dress-up whenever I look at the empty chair where my father used to sit.

I checked my watch. I had a cemetery to visit and a mother to ignore.

The new marketing hires were wrapping up their pitch for a new fragrance line. They were young, eager, and surprisingly good. One of them clicked through a slide showing their target demographic: teenagers and women over forty.

"The data shows women in their prime want to feel noticed," the girl at the podium said, "and teenagers just want to be grown-ups."

I leaned back, my mind drifting. My mother is over forty. These days, the only thing she wants to feel is the cold rim of a glass or the thrill of a losing hand at the casino. Since Dad died, she’s been a ghost haunting bars and gambling dens. My grandfather says to give her time, that she’ll wake up eventually. I’m still waiting for the alarm to go off. I’m tired of coming home to the smell of gin and the sight of her acting like a reckless nineteen-year-old.

"So, what’s the verdict, Mr. Blackwood?"

Elias, the marketing supervisor, was looking at me. The room went silent. Every pair of eyes was pinned to my face, waiting for the king to speak.

I started to open my mouth when my phone vibrated against the mahogany table. The screen lit up: 'Grandpa.'

I stood up, buttoning my blazer. "It’s good. Hand the full compilation to my secretary. I want to study the numbers tonight." I glanced at Winston. "Winston, handle the rest. Meeting adjourned."

I was out the door before they could even pack their laptops. I swiped the screen as I hit the elevator lobby.

"Grandpa? Am I late for lunch?" I asked, my voice softening. He was the only one who could make me drop the CEO act.

"Am I disturbing you, hijo?" his voice crackled over the line, warm and familiar.

"Never. I just wrapped up. I’m heading to the car now."

I walked through the glass lobby doors, the midday sun hitting the pavement in waves. My driver, Dominic, was already holding the car door open a few yards away. I was so focused on the call that I didn't see the blur of movement coming from the side.

CRACK.

The impact jarred my shoulder. My phone flew from my hand, skidding across the concrete with a sickening slide.

"Dammit," I hissed, looking down at the shattered screen. I looked up, eyes narrowed. "Are you going to apologize for hitting me, or are you just going to stand there?"

The girl stood a few feet away, breathless. She wasn't cowering. In fact, she looked like she wanted to hit me again. She actually laughed. It was a sharp, mocking sound.

"Uhm, Haven... I think we should go," her friend whispered, clutching the girl's arm and eyeing me with wide, fearful eyes. Clearly, the friend recognized the face on the Forbes billboards.

The girl, Haven, didn't blink. She looked me up and down like I was something she’d stepped in. "Why? Who is this guy? He looks pretty ordinary to me. Just another suit."

I felt a vein pulse in my neck. I looked at Dominic and jerked my head toward the phone. "Pick it up. Wait for me in the car."

Once he was out of earshot, I took a step toward her. I let the silence hang, using my height to shadow her. "Do you want me to introduce myself? I can make it very easy for you to remember my name."

She didn't flinch. She stepped into my space, the scent of something sweet and defiant hitting me. "Listen, mister. I don't care if you're the president's son or some syndicate boss. You look rich, sure. But we're all the same height when we're buried. Get over yourself."

She turned on her heel and started walking away.

"Wait! Your apology!" I called out, my voice tight with disbelief.

She stopped. She slowly turned around, and for a second, I thought she’d finally realized she was playing with fire. I crossed my arms, waiting for the crawl.

Instead, she shoved her middle finger into the air and stuck her tongue out. "You don't deserve my apology, idiot!"

Before I could react, she and her friend were sprinting down the sidewalk, weaving through the crowd.

"Sir? Your phone." Dominic handed me the device. The screen was a spiderweb of cracks.

"Unbelievable," I muttered, staring at the spot where she’d stood. "Teenagers these days. No respect."

The drive home was quiet, but my mind was spinning. By the time I walked through the front doors of the villa, the smell of home-cooked food was waiting.

"Good afternoon, hijo," Grandpa said, standing in the foyer with a knowing smile.

I walked up to Grandpa and took his hand, pressing it to my forehead. It was a small gesture of respect, the kind that usually made him beam.

"Good afternoon, Grandpa," I said, forcing a smile.

"Let’s eat," he said, patting my shoulder. "I helped out in the kitchen today. There isn't much else for me to do around this big house anyway."

I let out a soft laugh as we walked toward the dining area. He was getting older, his steps a little shorter than they used to be. I pulled out his chair for him and helped him fix his plate before sitting down myself.

"By the way, Grandpa," I said, reaching for my water. "You mentioned you had something important to tell me. What’s on your mind?"

I took a long drink, cooling my throat. Grandpa didn't look up from his food.

"I’m not trying to rush you, Jace," he started, his voice steady. "But I really want to see some great-grandchildren. Ideally, a lot of them."

The water went down the wrong pipe. I choked, my lungs burning as I fought the urge to spray the table. I swallowed hard, gasping for air as I slowly sank back into my chair.

"B-bu..." I stammered.

I set the glass down with a heavy thud, my face heating up. "Where is this coming from? You caught me off guard."

He stayed focused on the meat he was cutting, his movements slow and deliberate. "You know how it is. I’m old. I might be joining your father soon. I just want to hold a baby in my arms before I leave this place."

He looked up then, giving me a small, fragile smile. It gutted me. He knew exactly where to hit.

"Grandpa, stop talking like that," I said, my voice thick. "You’re staying right here. And about the kids... I don't know if I can just make that happen right away."

"Why? No girlfriend? No one you're even looking at?" He popped a piece of steak into his mouth, watching me closely.

I opened my mouth to explain the complicated mess of my dating life, but a voice cut me off from the doorway.

"Jace already has a fiancee, Grandpa. He’s just keeping her a secret."

I whipped my head around. Sebastian, my younger brother, was leaning against the doorframe with a wicked smirk. I shot him a look that should have set him on fire.

"Is that true, hijo?" Grandpa’s eyes lit up. "A fiancee? Why am I the last to know?"

My heart started thumping against my ribs. I had a girlfriend, sure, but the word marriage made her break out in hives. We hadn't even talked about a ring, let alone a wedding. But before I could fix the lie, Jasper decided to jump in.

"Yes, Grandpa," Jasper said, sliding into the seat next to Sebastian. He gave me a look of pure mischief. "He’s just waiting for the perfect time to tell you. Right?"

"Exactly," Sebastian said, sticking his tongue out at me when Grandpa wasn't looking.

Grandpa turned his gaze back to me, waiting. I felt trapped. The silence stretched until it was unbearable.

"A fiancee... yeah," I lied, the words tasting like ash. "Yes, Grandpa. I have one."

Grandpa’s face transformed. He looked genuinely shocked, then thrilled. "Then bring her here. Introduce her to me. You told your siblings but skipped your own grandfather? I was starting to think you were going to grow old alone, Jace."

I pressed my lips together, my pulse racing. "She’s very busy, Grandpa. But I’ll bring her around as soon as she has a free moment."

I grabbed my water again, needing something to do with my hands. Grandpa went back to his meal, satisfied, while my siblings continued to mock me with silent, exaggerated mouthed words across the table.

Sebastian and Jasper. They were my world, but they were also the biggest pains in my ass. They were seniors in college now, and I was the one who had raised them. Our mother had checked out years ago.

When Dad died in that accident, Mom didn't just lose her husband. She lost her mind. She loved him so much that when he was ripped away, she forgot she still had three children who needed her. I was eighteen then. Sebastian was ten. Jasper was eleven.

Back then, we had nothing. Dad had been a call center agent and Mom worked in a spa. We lived in a cramped house with Grandpa Benedict. Life was a constant struggle for air.

I made a promise to my dad's memory that I would get us out of the dirt. I spent my late teens obsessed with business. By the time I graduated, I was working three jobs at once—call center at night, salesman in the morning, fast food in the afternoon. I didn't sleep. I just built.

It took two years to get the company off the ground and another four to turn it into the empire it was now. I gave my family everything we never had.

But I couldn't fix Mom.

It had been years since the accident, but she refused to move on. She was a ghost who only came home to sleep off a hangover or demand more money for her gambling debts. It broke my heart to see her like that, but Grandpa always told me to stay focused on the kids. If she couldn't be the mother they deserved, I had to be the brother, father, and provider all at once.

I looked at my siblings laughing at my expense. I’d lie to Grandpa a thousand times if it kept the peace, but as I sat there, I realized I had no idea how I was going to turn a reluctant girlfriend into a fake fiancee by dinner time.

…

The condensation on my whiskey glass was the only thing colder than my mood. I stared at the amber liquid. Across from me, Killian Beauchamp was already three drinks deep, leaning back with a grin that told me he was enjoying my misery way too much.

"So, what’s the move, Jace?" Killian asked. "Grandpa isn't going to wait forever. Your siblings are already sharking around for that inheritance. You need a wife."

"I don't know," I muttered. The liquor burned my throat, but it didn't numb the headache.

Killian slapped my back, laughing. "Talk to Scarlett again. Maybe she’s changed her mind since lunch."

"I’ve tried a thousand fucking times, Killian. She isn't ready. It’s always the same story." I gripped the glass tighter. Scarlett and I had been together since freshman year of college. I knew the taste of her skin and the sound of her breath, but I didn't know why she looked at a wedding ring like it was a loaded gun. I’d proposed twice. Both times, she’d handed the box back to me with a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"Fine," Killian said, leaning his elbows on the high table. We were tucked near the bar, the neon lights casting sharp blue shadows over his face. "If she won't play the part, find someone who will. Go find a girl. Just for the night. Just to get Grandpa off your back."

I shoved his shoulder, hard. "If you aren't going to help, leave. Before you go home with a black eye."

"Relax. I'm helping." Killian turned around, facing the entrance. "New rule. The next woman who walks through those doors? That’s your fake fiancée. You explain the situation, pay her off, and get your grandfather to stop breathing down your neck."

It was a desperate, stupid plan. But desperation was all I had left. We both turned our heads toward the door.

A woman walked in, short and carrying three bags of takeout.

"Hard pass," Killian muttered, taking a sip of wine.

A few minutes later, a woman with shoulders broader than mine stepped in, looking like she’d just come from a boxing gym.

"Not her. She looks like she’d break your jaw before you got the question out," Killian joked.

I put my head in my hands. This was a mistake. Then, I heard Killian swear under his breath.

"There. Look."

I followed his gaze. A girl with thick glasses and braces was fumbling with her purse by the host stand.

"Damn it, Killian. That’s a nerd. I have a reputation."

"Not her! Look behind her." He grabbed my jaw, physically forcing my head to the right.

My breath hitched.

She was standing there in a dark brown co-ord set, the fabric hugging curves that made the air in the bar feel suddenly thin. Her hair was cut short, framing a face that was sharp, defiant, and hauntingly familiar.

"The one in the brown?" I asked, my voice dropping an octave.

Killian let go of me, a predatory smirk on his lips. "That’s the one. Should I go get her number?"

I slapped his hand away, a sudden heat rising in my chest that had nothing to do with the alcohol. "Of all the women in this city, you pick her? She slammed into me in front of my building this morning. Didn't even say sorry. She’s a brat. Zero manners."

Killian wrapped an arm around my neck, pulling me close. "That’s perfect, Jace. Lower your pride. She’s fit, she’s hot, and she looks like she needs the money. Offer her a deal she can’t refuse."

"I’d rather marry the nerd," I snapped, pouring myself another drink.

Killian stood up. "Fine, I'll go ask the nerd."

"Sit down," I growled, grabbing his arm and yanking him back into his seat. "I was joking."

"Let me handle this," Killian said, his eyes tracking the girl’s table. "Her friend is heading to the restroom. Now’s the chance to talk to the quiet one."

I watched him walk away, feeling like I was watching a train wreck in slow motion. I downed my drink, the ice clinking against my teeth.

A few minutes later, a heavy hand dropped on my shoulder. Killian was beaming. He held out a small, torn piece of paper.

"Mission accomplished," he whispered.

I took the paper. The handwriting was neat, sharp.

'Haven Cross. 09xx xxxx xxx.'

Haven. It was a beautiful name for such an annoying woman. It was a small world, and apparently, it was a cruel one too.

I looked back at her table, but she was already turning away. My mind drifted to Scarlett. I’d dropped her off at her condo earlier, the silence between us heavy. She used secret entrances to see me at the office. She kept our relationship a ghost. Her family knew me, but mine didn't even know she existed.

I loved her, but I was tired of hiding.

Grandpa was fading. Ever since Grandma died, he’d become a shadow, locking himself away and refusing to eat. I’d spent my life being the golden grandson, giving him everything he wanted just to see him smile again. Now, he wanted a wedding.

If Scarlett wouldn't give it to me, Haven Cross would have to.

I looked at the phone number again. She was going to hate this. I already hated it. But as I felt the weight of the paper in my hand, I knew there was no turning back.

Haven

I have zero clue what my parents were thinking when they named me HAVEN. They claim I looked like a little piece of heaven dropped straight from the sky when I was a baby. Personally, I think it’s just a unique way to start a conversation, but I’ll take it. Right now, I’m vibrating in my seat. We are officially seniors. Fourth year college students! Just a few more weeks of grinding, a couple more dances with fate, and we are walking across that stage with those diplomas.

I looked over at Estelle, who was currently occupied with a bag of chips. It’s wild to think we’re finishing this journey together. She’s been my shadow, my rock, and my absolute best friend since we were toddlers. Our moms are best friends too, so our bond was basically written in the stars before we could even walk.

My family situation is a bit of a plot twist, though. I have a younger brother named Xenon. We have the same mom, but different dads. My biological father was a total waste of space. He was the kind of guy who chose a bottle over his own daughter every single night. Mom did the smartest thing ever by leaving that loser before they even got married. Honestly, if she hadn’t, I probably would have grown up and forced her to leave him myself.

Then came the man I actually call Papa. He’s Xenon’s dad, and he stepped up in a way my real father never could. He even fixed my papers so my last name would be Cross, just like theirs. It took me a long time to warm up to him because I didn’t know what a real father looked like. But he told me I could call him anything. Tito, big brother, whatever made me comfortable. He’s amazing. He works so hard so Mom can just focus on us, even though she’s more than capable of working too. I really lucked out with him.

A sudden, sharp smack against my desk jolted me so hard my heart nearly leaped out of my chest.

"Son of a bitch!"

The curse echoed through the lecture hall before I could bite it back. My face went hot as a dozen heads turned my way. I immediately flashed a guilty peace sign, offering a sheepish grin to the room. That’s just me. If you scare me, I’m going to swear. It’s a package deal.

"Staring into space again? You were miles away," Estelle teased, leaning in close with a smirk.

I rubbed my ear, trying to get my heart rate under control. "I lost track of time. You totally caught me off guard."

"Is it a requirement to look that gorgeous even when you’re swearing like a sailor?" Sebastian piped up from the seat next to us.

We all broke into a fit of giggles. Sebastian is one of those guys who just knows he’s pretty.

"Why do you feel the need to shout those words when you have such a pretty face?" Jasper chimed in, Sebastian’s brother.

"Your voice is actually giving me a headache," Sebastian snapped at his brother, reaching over to give his arm a hard pinch.

"Ow! Watch the designer gear!" Jasper yelped.

I just shook my head, laughing at them. We met Valerius Blackwood and Sebastian Blackwood last year. They’re the campus royalty, always arriving in expensive cars with private drivers, but underneath the "it-boy" status, they’re just chaotic brothers. We’ve been a solid four-person squad ever since we ended up in the same classes. Estelle is still like a sister to me, even if I am technically two months older.

"Anyway, guys, my birthday is next week. You’re all invited. Your favorite mayor is throwing a massive party," Sebastian announced, throwing his arms out wide.

We cheered and clapped, the excitement in the room instantly doubling.

"A party? Have you even pitched this to our older brother?" Jasper asked, his tone skeptical. "Remember last year? He shut you down so fast it was embarrassing. What makes you think this year is any different?"

Sebastian’s smile faltered into a dramatic, high-fashion pout. He crossed his arms over his chest and slumped.

"You really need to convince him, Bas," Estelle said, crunching on another chip. "We’ve been dying to see your house. You keep us locked out like it’s a secret fortress."

The professor hadn't arrived for the next block yet, so the room was a chaotic mess of students gossiping and laughing. It’s the start of the semester, but the workload is already starting to pile up. I looked at the clock, feeling that familiar itch of restlessness.

"Uhm, excuse me?"

A soft knock at the door dragged our attention away from the birthday drama. A guy stood there, shifting his weight from one foot to the other like he was about to face a firing squad.

"Ah, yes! Are you looking for me? Finally, a fan!" Sebastian joked, leaning back and fluttering his eyelashes at the poor messenger.

Jasper didn't even hesitate. He slapped the back of Sebastian’s head with a meaty thud. "Ignore him. Can we help you with something?"

One of our classmates by the door chimed in too, trying to look helpful, but I caught Sebastian giving her the most hilarious, petty side-eye. I swear, these two are going to be the death of me.

"Someone asked me to give this to Ms. Cross," the guy said.

He reached behind his back and pulled out a grease-stained bag that smelled like absolute heaven. McDonald's. My soul practically left my body.

The entire room erupted into whistles and catcalls. "Oh my god, Haven! Another one?" Kia shouted from across the room. "Your secret admirer has been at this for years. Why won't he just show his face already?"

I felt the heat rush to my cheeks as I stood up, my legs feeling a little like jelly.

"Go on, girl! Get your goods!" Sebastian nudged me, practically shoving me toward the door.

"Get the bag! Get the bag! Get the bag!" the class started chanting in unison.

I rolled my eyes at them, though a smile was tugging at my lips. I walked over to the guy, feeling the weight of everyone’s stares on my back.

"I know you won't tell me who he is," I said, taking the warm bag from him. "But tell him he needs to stop. Or, if he’s really that determined, tell him to bring it himself next time. This is getting embarrassing. But anyway, thank him for me."

The messenger just nodded. "Got it."

He didn't waste a second before disappearing down the hallway. I turned back to the room, the scent of fries acting like a siren song.

"Sharing is caring, people! Dig in!" I announced, holding the bag out.

I’m not the type to hoard a feast while everyone else is hungry. Within seconds, my classmates were swarming like piranhas.

"Haven’t wouldn't be Haven without her daily delivery," Matt laughed, grabbing a handful of fries. She’s been in our circle forever, and she knows the drill.

"Seriously though," Joseph added, leaning against a desk. "We’ve been in the same classes for years, and this guy is still a ghost. Don't you have any clue who it is?"

I popped a fry into my mouth, the salt hitting just right. "Honestly? Not a single lead. It’s been going on since junior high, and he still hasn't made a move."

It’s the truth. My bedroom back home is basically a museum of this guy's affection. Dresses, hoodies, expensive shoes, and teddy bears so big they take up half my bed. I use the bears as backrests while I study.

My parents are just as curious as I am. They’ve actually given me the green light to have a boyfriend, which is hilarious because I’m the one holding back. Papa keeps telling me that as soon as the mystery man shows up, I have to bring him home immediately.

But the truth is, I’ve got a bit of a sharp tongue and a short fuse. I judge guys way too fast. Like that jerk who bumped into me yesterday and didn't even say sorry? Please. Why should I apologize if he won’t? My attitude is a bit of a mess, probably a gift from my biological father. I’ve been swearing since I was a kid, and no matter how many times Mom swatted my lips, the words just kept flying.

Who would actually want to date a girl who cussess like a sailor and has a temper like a firecracker?

The day wound down with the usual mix of chaos and laughter. As the sun started to dip, we began packing our bags.

"Girls! We’re heading out. Stay safe, okay?" Sebastian called out, leaning in to give us both a quick air-kiss on the cheek.

"See you tomorrow! Don't get into too much trouble!" Estelle shouted back.

I was zipping up my bag when my phone started vibrating against the wooden desk. An unknown number.

"Hello?" I answered, tucking the phone against my ear.

"Good afternoon. Is this Haven Cross?"

The voice on the other end was deep, smooth, and completely unfamiliar. It sent a strange little shiver down my spine.

"Speaking," I replied, my pulse picking up speed for no reason at all. "Who is this?"

"You will know when you meet me," the voice on the line purred, smooth as expensive whiskey. "So, can you meet me now? I know your classes just finished."

I froze, the hair on my arms standing up. How did he know my schedule?

"I don't meet strangers," I snapped, my jolly mood souring instantly. I gripped my phone tighter. "Who even are you?"

"My secretary arrived a while ago. He is there to pick you up."

My heart did a violent thud against my ribs. Fear, sharp and cold, spiked through my chest. "I’m not going anywhere with him! You’re being way too pushy, mister. I said no, and I don’t even know you!"

I didn’t care if the few students left in the room were staring. My voice was rising, fueled by a mix of adrenaline and pure annoyance.

"Miss Haven Cross, I’m begging you to meet me today," he said, though he didn't sound like he was begging at all. He sounded like he was issuing a command. "I’ve been waiting for your day to end because we have something vital to discuss."

"Is it more important than my sleep?" I shot back, leaning into my sass to hide the fact that my knees were shaking. "I'm exhausted. It’s the first day of the semester, so do me a favor and stop annoying me."

"Then let's meet tomorrow. Or the next day. Anytime you are free."

I groaned, rubbing my temple. This guy was like a persistent stain. "What do you even want? You're obsessed! I said I don’t want to! I don’t! Do I need to say it in another language? I. Do. Not. Want. To. Okay? Goodby—"

"My secretary and the guards I ordered to fetch you will not leave until you meet me," he interrupted.

My jaw dropped. I clenched my free hand into a fist, my nails biting into my palm. "Then they can rot there for all I care! Screw you!"

I slammed the end call button and exhaled a breath that tasted like fire.

"You're seeing red again," Estelle said, watching me with wide eyes. "Who was that? You look like you’re about to breathe smoke out of your nose."

I chewed on my lip, my mind racing. "Some freak who won't take no for an answer. He wants to meet about something, but for all I know, he’s a kidnapper or a serial killer."

"Come on, ride with me," Estelle suggested, grabbing her bag. "I’m not letting you walk home alone if some creep is stalking you."

I wanted to say yes immediately, but then I remembered his threat. "I don't think we can just walk out. He said he has guards and a secretary waiting at the exit."

"Watch me," she said, her voice firm.

We stepped out of the building and crept toward the campus gates. My breath hitched. Stationed right by the main exit were five men in crisp black uniforms, earplugs tucked into their ears, looking like they stepped straight out of a high-security detail.

"Oh my god," I whispered, ducking behind a pillar. "There are so many of them."

"Should we just talk to them? Tell them to go away?" Estelle hissed.

"What if they just grab me and throw me in a car?" My imagination was running wild, picturing myself in some dark basement.

Then, I spotted a familiar pair walking toward the parking lot. Professor Salazar and Professor Ironwood. A lightbulb went off in my head.

"Follow my lead," I whispered, grabbing Estelle’s hand.

"Where are we going?"

"We’re hitching a ride with the faculty!"

I didn't give her a choice. I hauled her toward the professors.

"Oh, Ms. Cross, Ms. Valeriane! Still here?" Professor Ironwood asked, looking surprised.

I flashed my brightest, most innocent smile, though I kept shooting furtive glances at the men in black. "Heading home, Professor? You guys stay safe on the road! See you!"

I didn't even wait for a reply. I used their presence as a human shield, shielding us from the guards' line of sight as we sprinted toward Estelle’s waiting car. In my frantic dash, I slammed hard into someone’s shoulder.

A guy in a dark hoodie stumbled, and his phone hit the pavement with a sickening crack.

"Oh no, I'm so sorry!" I gasped, pausing for a split second.

"It's okay," the guy said. His voice was low, and he didn't even look up as he reached for the phone.

Guilt twisted in my stomach, but my pulse was screaming at me to move. I scrambled into the backseat of Estelle’s car just as the engine roared to life.

"Hi, Mr. Delfin!" Estelle chirped to her driver, Delfin.

"Why are you two so out of breath?" he asked, chuckling as he pulled out of the driveway.

"Just... playing tag!" I lied, my chest heaving.

As we sped away, I looked out the back window. The guards were standing there, watching our car disappear into the traffic. I finally let out the breath I’d been holding, but my hands wouldn't stop shaking.

Who the hell was that man? How did he get my private number? I keep that thing locked down specifically to avoid creeps and prank callers. If I find out which of my "friends" leaked it, they’re dead.

My mind drifted back to the guy I bumped into. I felt like trash for breaking his phone, but panic does weird things to your brain. I’ll probably never see him again to make it right, and I definitely don't have the cash to fix a screen.

The whole situation was a mess. It was only Monday, and I already felt like I was being hunted. He sounded like a boss, someone used to getting exactly what he wanted. Well, he picked the wrong girl to bully. If he tries this again tomorrow, I'm going to give him a piece of my mind that he’ll never forget.

"You okay?" Estelle asked, resting a hand on my arm.

"I'm fine," I said, though I was still vibrating with leftover adrenaline. "Just annoyed. I hate it when people think they can buy my time."

But deep down, a tiny, annoying part of me was curious. What could be so "important" that it required a small army to deliver the message?