by Bethany-Kris
Haven hesitated.
She hadn’t, actually.
That one was new.
“I don’t think Mom’s dying …”
“You don’t sound very convinced,” Neil replied.
Yeah, shit.
“I just want to help,” Haven settled on saying. “That’s all, Dad. I need to help.”
“You can help by living and being happy. That’s what we want the most, sweetheart.”
If only it could be that simple.
Haven knew it wouldn’t be.
“Take five,” Jackson said as he slid behind the bar.
Haven gave the man a side-eye that could rival the Devil’s. “Does it really look like I have time to take a five-minute break?”
Jackson was quick to take the mixing shaker out of Haven’s hands, and his posture said that she was not fucking getting it back anytime soon. Goddamn him.
“We also need to keep people coming into the club, Haven,” Jackson said. “And you’ve snapped at the last three patrons who came up to order drinks.”
Had she?
Jesus.
Usually, she didn’t mind busy nights. They were the best kind to work, frankly. Tonight, however, seemed to be the night when literally everything was willing to test Haven’s very kind patience. She blamed it on the visit with the realtor earlier, and then the call from her father. After all of that, she really wasn’t in the mood to put on a happy face, and serve already drunk people more liquor.
The littlest things put her in a bad mood lately.
“Take five,” Jackson repeated firmly.
No room for argument.
Haven nodded, defeated. She was quick to slip around the bar, and head across the club’s floor. She barely passed the girls working their pole a look, and she didn’t even bother to stop and say hi to a familiar face she recognized sitting at one of the far tables.
Before long, she was closing the door of her office, and dragging in a deep breath. Putting her back to the wall, she counted back from ten, and willed her nerves to relax. It should help. It always did before.
It didn’t this time.
Haven pushed away from the door, and dropped into the chair behind the desk. Maybe what she really needed more than anything was a fucking vacation. Time away from just being.
That sounded heavenly.
And it tasted like guilt.
Fuck her life.
The first thing Haven thought to do was bitch about her life. To open her mouth, and let all the stress come out of it in a vomit of words that would leave her with less things on her mind. It was something she found helped.
Usually, she would do it with Valeria.
Except … Haven glanced up to find the office empty. Like her home, and her heart. She was never more aware of Val’s missing presence in her life than she was lately. The more shit that piled onto Haven’s shoulders, the worse she missed her friend.
Where was she?
Was she okay?
What about Maria?
Those thoughts were a constant plague on Haven’s mind now. It was just one more thing to add to the hell that had become her life. She didn’t have answers, and no way to get them, either. It was quite a fucking place to be, really.
Haven wasn’t sure how long she stayed in her office, but it was definitely longer than the five-minute break Jackson had told her to take. She wasn’t any less stressed, but she was slightly more relaxed. More willing to put on that happy face for her customers, anyway.
That was something.
Jackson popped his head in the office doorway after knocking once. But hell, at least he fucking knocked. That was more than he used to do.
“Yes?” Haven asked, rubbing her fingertips into her temples.
“The patron for the private room is here.”
Haven’s brow furrowed. “All right.”
In the entire club, there was just one private room. Haven didn’t like the sleazy appeal of private rooms where the girls could take customers and do whatever the hell a man was willing to pay for. That wasn’t what she wanted Safe Haven to be known for beyond the walls of this place. She also didn’t like the idea that a patron might take advantage of a girl behind closed doors when no one was there to help the woman.
It all left a bad taste in Haven’s mouth.
So, she culled any chance of that by simply not allowing for private sessions between a dancer and a patron.
They did, however, have a private room that was used for things like parties and whatever else. Security was always present, as was at least one member of management. They didn’t use the private room very often, and when they did, Jackson was the manager who handled all the details and making sure things were on the up and up.
Haven rarely touched it at all.
Jackson didn’t move from the doorway. “It was booked last week, remember?”
“Not particularly.”
That shouldn’t be a surprise, though. A lot of things were slipping in Haven’s life lately. It only served to leave her feeling like a giant fucking failure, but maybe she would get used to feeling like this after a while.
Who knew?
“The patron who booked the room asked specifically for a meeting with you, not a dance or anything,” Jackson said.
Haven’s gaze narrowed. “What?”
The man shrugged.
Something felt off for her.
Maybe she didn’t remember Jackson telling her about the private booking because he actually hadn’t told her at all. That seemed more likely considering she never did a private dance. And all meetings she had were held in her office, or at the bar before the club even opened for the night.
“What’s going on?” Haven demanded.
Jackson cleared his throat, and glanced away. “Listen, he was very persuasive when he called in, and I didn’t think you would mind me saying yes.”
“He?”
“Your friend—Marcello.”
“Andino?”
Jackson nodded. “That’s the one, yeah.”
Holy mother of fucking Christ.
Haven had the distinct feeling Jackson had only been trying to help. Most likely her, but also Andino in a way. The man had no idea about the shit that had happened between her and Andino. All he could know was that Andino didn’t come around the club as much as he used to, but even that could be explained away with simple excuses.
She tried not to get mad at Jackson.
Tried being the keyword there.
“He’s in the private room, then?” Haven asked, her tone rough.
“Yeah. Sorry, did I fuck up?”
Haven stood from the desk. “More him than you … but don’t do it again.”
“Noted.”
“Is this supposed to be a joke?”
Andino met Haven’s gaze from across the private room where he was currently sitting on one of several red velvet couches. He gave the server handing over what looked to be a glass of whiskey a quick smile.
“Thank you,” he told the server.
“Anything else?” Kandi asked with one of her signature smiles that tended to have all the men tipping her generously. “Just ask.”
Kandi really was a sweet girl. Her name was far more than appropriate. Usually, Haven appreciated the fact that the girl made the patrons comfortable, and happy. She did not, however, like the way Kandi was currently smiling at Andino.
“No, that’ll be quite enough, thanks, Kandi,” Haven said.
A little too sharply, maybe, if the way the young woman looked over her shoulder at her boss was any indication. Haven wished she had taken a second to cool the raging jealousy flooding her body at nothing more than the sight of a woman—who was just doing her job—paying Andino a bit of attention.
How could a woman not pay him attention?
He looked like sin had come into her club, and sat down on a velvet couch wearing an Armani suit, shiny leather loafers, a Rolex on his wrist, and a smile that screamed sex. The man d
idn’t even have to try. He filled out his tailored suit in the best way, and he fucking knew it, too.
That was before Haven moved onto his good looks, and charming nature.
She shouldn’t be jealous. There was no fucking need for any of that nonsense. They weren’t even really a thing anymore. Sure, she might not be seeing someone else, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t out fucking God knew who.
Jesus.
Was he doing that?
“Sorry,” Kandi said as she passed Haven by. “I’ll leave you two alone, boss.”
Haven glanced up at the ceiling, and prepped to give the girl an apology. She didn’t get the chance—Kandi was gone from the private room before Haven could even open her mouth again.
Great.
“That was awkward,” Andino murmured.
Haven’s gaze flew back to the man of the hour, and her anger was back in a blink. “That was nothing. Why are you here?”
“Really, nothing?”
She wished the lump in her throat wasn’t so goddamn thick. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“I think we should talk about how pissed off you just were because I smiled at a woman, and she smiled back at me. That seems far more interesting.”
“I would rather not.”
“Pride’s a bitch, huh? I know all about that.”
Haven clenched her jaw. “Could you not right now?”
“Who else will call your shit out when I don’t?”
Good point.
That didn’t mean he had to make it, though.
Haven went back to her first question instead. “What are you doing here? And did you really think booking the private room behind my back to get a few minutes with me was a good idea?”
Andino didn’t blink at the face of her anger. “I don’t expect you to understand, Haven, but I am trying to be discreet in the way I do things lately. A hazard of my current position. I wanted—and needed—a few minutes with you, so this seemed like the best way. I don’t have to stay.”
God.
She hated how the first thing she wanted to do was simply say don’t go, stay. That she so badly wanted to ask why he wasn’t calling her nearly as much, or know what was happening in his life that was keeping him away from her.
Because even if a part of her did want him to just leave her the hell alone, another part of her wanted nothing more than to have him keep being … this man that was in front of her.
The man that didn’t stop. Didn’t take no for an answer. The man that showed up in her life, and inserted his presence there like that’s exactly where he was always meant to be whether she fucking liked it or not. This man—this infuriating, confusing, and strange man—who could put her on edge, take her to the top of the world, or crush her entire heart all in the same breath.
Andino had no idea the things he was capable of where Haven was concerned. He didn’t know—couldn’t possibly understand—the power he had over her. He didn’t have a single fucking clue how much she loved him.
God, she loved him.
And she hated him, too.
“I came to give you something,” he said, standing from the couch. For the first time, she noticed the folder that had been resting on his thigh when he flashed it with a wave of his hand. “And then be on my way.”
Haven swallowed the words in an attempt to keep them in, but the bastards still managed to slip out anyway. “Whatever that is—is it the only reason you came?”
“Of course not,” Andino murmured, coming closer. “I miss you. I always miss you, baby.”
She blinked.
Fuck my whole life.
Once he was close enough to hold the folder out to her, he did just that. Haven took it, but she didn’t look inside right away. Instead, she looked at him.
“The place still hasn’t sold, huh?” he asked. “Strange—this club should have flew off the market.”
“The buyer is a prick.”
Andino smirked. “I see.”
“What’s this?”
She waved the folder.
Andino shrugged one broad shoulder. “You mentioned your friend … Valeria … and I figured it must have been weighing on you that she up and went without a word. You’re that type of person, aren’t you? You give entirely too much of a shit about everybody else, and not nearly enough about yourself.”
He knew her too well.
“You looked into Valeria?”
“As much as I could,” he replied. “This might help to get you started if you want to look elsewhere, or try to find her. I didn’t want to give this to you.”
Haven’s gaze narrowed, but Andino was quick to shake his head.
“Not for the reasons you probably think,” he was fast to add, “but because there are things that came up about Valeria Gomez that quickly turned dangerous, and murky. And if you go looking in those places … not even I could keep you safe, I don’t think.”
She stiffened, and looked down at the folder in her shaking hand. “Oh.”
“But here it is,” Andino said, “whether I want you to look or not isn’t my choice. I didn’t even have any business looking into her history to begin with but the idea that something was bothering you killed me. So, I made a few calls, and pulled what I could. That’s what I came here for—I hope it helps.”
Haven blinked, unsure of what to say.
Andino didn’t really give her the time to figure it out before he moved to pass by her, but not before he stopped, and gave her a soft kiss on her temple. That gentle press of his lips was enough to send a blaze lighting up over her skin. He really hadn’t come to upset her life again, or to get in the way. He hadn’t shown up to cause problems, or drag her to bed for yet another round.
He came because he cared.
He still cared.
And that just fucked her up more than ever.
“Could I replace your flowers again?” he asked, his lips still grazing her skin.
She wanted to ask if he would bring them himself this time, but she held back. He’d been the one who said he was trying to be discreet, after all. She was sure there were things happening that she wasn’t privy to, and maybe that was for the best.
Right now, Haven had a lot of things to figure out.
“You should,” she said quietly, “the others are wilting.”
Andino nodded. “Will do. And, if you want to chat about what you find in that folder … you know where to find me.”
“Thank you.”
He kissed her temple once more, and brushed his knuckles against her cheekbone before he left the private room altogether. Haven felt like her feet had suddenly turned into cement right there on the spot.
It took entirely too long for her to break from the daze and open the folder. Maybe she should have waited until she was back home again.
She couldn’t.
She had to know what Valeria had never told her.
The second she opened the folder, she wished she would have waited until she was home alone so that she could absorb the information staring back at her on just the first page. It looked to be a newspaper clipping of some sort. She scanned the words, and the ones that seemed important jumped out at her.
Gomez Cartel.
Fifteen-year-old Valeria Lòpez marries the oldest son of Martín Gomez in a ceremony at Saint Basile Chapel only two weeks after her father’s arrest for embezzlement.
Blackmail. Bribery.
Haven kept reading, and the information only became worse with each page. Who knew Mexico was so goddamn corrupt?
“I’m surprised it took you this long. Or rather, that it took you a whole week to decide to come and talk to me about the folder.”
Haven sighed, and continued staring at the green shrubbery someone had placed in a terracotta potter beside Andino’s front door. It was easier to stare at the small plant than at the man who managed to tell her that statement, and yet, still not sound smug about the fact that he said it without a hint of surprise.
Like he just knew.
She was going to come back here again.
“I had a busy week,” Haven said. “Took a two-day trip to Florida to visit my mom, and work … well, work is work.”
“How is your mom?”
Haven frowned, and finally glanced at Andino. There was genuine concern written on his expression, and not a hint of the arrogant man she expected to find when she knocked on his door earlier. She didn’t quite know what to make of that. God knew it was far easier to deal with Andino—at times—when he was laying all of his cards out on the table rather than keeping them close to his chest.
She didn’t know how to deal with him like this at all.
“Still sick,” she said.
Andino nodded. “I’m sorry.”
Haven shrugged. “It just upset her to see me there, anyway. She thought I was coming to stay right then, and hadn’t told her. They would rather I keep living my life, and help from afar. They don’t want me to uproot everything.”
“And you just want to help.”
“Yeah, well …”
That was the best thing she could think to say, as lame as it was. The visit to see her mom had helped a bit. Despite the chemo treatments being far more aggressive this time around, her mother was doing wonderfully. That counted for something.
Andino stepped back a bit from the doorway, and widened the door. “Do you want to come in?”
Haven clutched the folder in her hands a little tighter as she stared at the dark hallway behind Andino. The sight was as familiar as it was uncomfortable. His entire life was hidden in his home. Haven had learned that over time. She also learned that he guarded his private life more carefully than most.
Yet, he had no issue with inviting her in, and letting her make herself at home. She craved the comfort of this place—filled with furniture, things, and life—as much as she did Andino, in a way. Compared to her own house currently, it was far warmer.
Even if the man in front of her was the source of heartache for her.
“I don’t know if I should,” Haven said.
