Santi's Downfall

Chapter 24: The Ambushed

The fear of death follows from the fear of life. A man who lives fully is prepared to die at any time.

Mark Twain

Haven Pierce's POV

"Remind me again, why must I come with you?"

I repeated my question when he didn't answer it the first time. Here I was, all dressed up once again and about to accompany him to some party again which was the last thing on what I would like to do for today.

He spared me a glance while we were trapped at the back of his car. He was, as usual, in his immaculate self, giving the aura of don't-mess-with-me. "I need to attend a reception."

I slanted my head to the side. "But why do I have to accompany you again? Parties with the elites aren't my thing. I hope you just leave me at home and come to this party on your own. I'd rather read books or watch movies than attend such boring gatherings."

He cocked a brow in my direction while there was a sardonic smile playing slightly on his lips. "Aren't you forgetting our deal, Haven?"

"What deal?"

There was a devilish look on his face right now as his eyes gleamed with unholy light. "Perhaps, I should remind you about the ruined leather chairs of my new Ferrari—"

I could feel the blood draining on my face as I looked at him. How could I forget that stupid deal we had when I stupidly ruined those leathers in his car? I made a face as I looked straight ahead refusing to see the victorious smile on his face. "How long do you plan to use me as a companion to these boring parties?"

From the corner of my eyes, I saw him shrug casually. "As long as I need to attend parties."

I threw a foul look at him. "You can't be serious! How often do you attend such an event, by the way?"

"It depends."

My eyebrows furrowed. "It depends on what exactly?"

"It depends on my mood," he smirked devilishly while looking at my stunned face. I think he was enjoying what he was seeing on my face. "And for the record, I often received invitations. I just choose where I want to attend."

I snorted, shaking my head in disbelief. "I wonder why people keep on inviting you to their parties despite your reputation and work." I gave him an apologetic look. "No offense."

He touched the tip of my curled hair and played with it. "Connections, sweetheart. You'll be surprised how they want to please me so badly for a future favor. Do you know those high and mighty wealthy people? They are willing to lick a mafia boss's feet just for the sake of money and power."

I was having a hard time concentrating on what he was saying when he was playing with my hair like that. It's not like I am uncomfortable with his touch but it feels like there was a butterfly on my stomach at the moment.

"Hey, the roots of your hair start to grow." He commented looking at my pink hair with such interest.

I cleared my throat as I felt that my heart was making a riot inside my chest which disturbed my other internal organs. "Y-Yes, I notice it too. Maybe one of these days I'll do a touch-up with my hair color."

"Why pink?"

"Hmm?" I mumbled almost absently because my mind was not functioning normally for some reason. I was busy trying to normalize my heartbeat with steady deep breaths.

"Why did you choose such an unusual hair color?" He inquired conversationally. "Your natural brunette suits you too."

My eyes widened at him. "How did you know that I was a brunette before?"