Chapter 4

"Good evening," his deep voice greeted casually. "Are you Ava Collins?"

I wanted to melt into the floor.

Slowly, painfully, I lifted my head.

And there he was.

The Worst Driver Alive.

Mr. Cocky and Shirtless.

Standing right in front of me.

I didn't answer his question. I was putting one and one together. How on earth did he know my real name?

"Uhm, I could assume, but I don't want to. So I need to be sure—are you Ava Collins?" he added.

"Yes, yes, I am," I answered, still in shock.

"Oh, great! Nice to meet you." He shook my hand. "You look absolutely beautiful… gorgeous, in fact," he added as he sat down.

Wait! Why was he acting nice to me? Complimenting me… calling me beautiful?! Is it that he doesn't know I’m the one? Or is this a prank? I started wondering.

"It seems you aren't happy with me because I'm late." He tried to get feedback from me. I just sat there, speechless.

"Okay… I'm Nathaniel Hargrave. Sorry I'm late. I got caught up in an unexpected meeting," he said.

"Huh? Nathaniel Hargrave?! YOU ARE NATHANIEL HARGRAVE?!" I gasped, standing up in shock.

"Ava, what's wrong?" He looked around, concerned and uncomfortable as people started turning to look at us. "You don't need to announce to everyone here that I am… you know… Nathaniel Hargrave," he added in a calm voice.

I sat down, still staring at him, with no reply. For a moment, neither of us spoke. His brows went up slightly as he stared at me too, as if trying to figure out what was going on with me. Then, recognition crossed his face.

"You," he said with a delayed shock.

"No, you," I echoed, just as unimpressed. I quickly pulled out my phone to call the number he gave me to contact him two days ago.

His phone started ringing. My hands dropped, my face losing all life in it. A tense silence stretched between us.

Then, at the exact same time, we both said—

"This has to be a joke."

I groaned, dragging a hand down my face. "You’re my blind date?"

"You’re my blind date?" he repeated, his tone filled with disbelief.

"This has to be some kind of sick prank," I muttered, rolling my eyes.

"But the name attached to the number that you gave me didn't have 'Nathaniel' on it." I said aggressively.

He chuckled a little. "Do you really think I would hand a total stranger my real and main personal number?"

"God! This can't be happening," I said, scattering my hair in frustration. I suddenly pulled my phone up to browse. There it was.

His photo… his photos.

Nathaniel stood up and glanced down at me. His expression was unreadable. Then, to my horror, he gave a faint smile.

"Interesting," he mused. "you look...uhm...different". 

"Oh please! you already called me ugly in five thousand ways, so don't even think of changing your mind or attitude. It wont work with me. "I said aggressively. 

"Good point, but we are in a formal and public space, I can't be..."

"a douche here!" I completed the sentence looking straight into his soul. 

"Call it whatever you want, point is..."

"you regret meeting me as your beloved fiancee Ava collins" I interrupted again. 

"I will have to agree with you on that one"

I scoffed. "Yeah, and the universe just hates me."

He chuckled and, without asking, pulled out the chair across from me, and then moved to sit on it.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

He raised a brow. "Sitting opposite you, so I can face you properly. Also, to not be too close to you. This is my table too, remember?"

I glared at him. "You’re late."

"And yet, you’re still here," he countered. "Almost like you were waiting for me."

I clenched my jaw. "I was actually just about to leave."

"But now that I’m here…" He leaned back, eyeing me with amusement. "You might as well stay."

I wanted to argue, but the waiter appeared, breaking the tension.

"Good evening, sir. Is there a problem?"

"Oh, no problem at all," Nathaniel replied.

"Okay then, would you like to start with something to drink?"

"Whiskey. Neat."

Of course.

"And for you, miss?"

"Water," I said through gritted teeth.

The waiter nodded and walked away, leaving me alone with him again.

I took a deep breath. "Okay, listen. We both know this is a disaster, so let’s just agree that this date never happened, and we’ll go our separate ways. We tell our parents to cut this off."

Nathaniel tilted his head, studying me. "You’re really that desperate to get away from me, huh?"

I leveled him with a look. "Yes."

"That's fine. I don't like you either. You aren’t my cup of tea," he said.

"Great! That makes it easier," I said, standing up.

"Where are you going? The food isn't even here," Nathaniel said.

"Home… I'm going home—to be as far away from you as possible."

"Hmmm… look, I hate you too, but we need to be more mature and logical in this kind of setting. You already announced my name to everyone here, and they’re watching closely," he said.

I turned to see that it was true. People were stealing glances at us.

"Look, let’s make a deal."

I narrowed my eyes. "What kind of deal?"

"We stay for dinner. Just one meal. No expectations, no forced small talk. Just food. At least, whoever my mother asked to spy on us will give her good feedback that we actually went through the date and spoke to each other casually. Then,when I get home, I’ll tell her I’m not interested in you. Then the marriage deal is off. Deal?"

I hesitated.

"I somehow don't trust you"

"Please do believe me on this...i wouldn't want you as my wife either. We would kill each other on our wedding night" He said.

"Okay." I agreed.

On one hand, spending more time with him sounded like my personal version of hell.

On the other hand… I was starving.

And this place was expensive.

I sighed. "Fine. One meal. But after that, we never see each other again. You get your parents to call it off, and I’ll talk to mine."

Nathaniel smirked. "Deal."

As the waiter returned with our drinks, our order was taken and they brought the food few minutes later.

I silently wondered what kind of fresh hell I had just signed up for.

All I wanted was to avoid getting married to this playboy, Nathaniel Hargrave.

Little did I know, this dinner was going to complicate things in about ten to fifteen minutes time.

"You've got to be kidding me," I muttered to myself, gripping my camera tighter as I walked into the Rosewood Hotel lobby.

I needed content for my blog, so I headed to Rosewood Hotel for some photos and videos. It was one of the top-rated hotels in the city, and the views were always breathtaking. I needed something fresh and exciting for my followers, so I figured a day at the hotel would be perfect. 

This was supposed to be a productive day—get content for my blog and youtube channel, take stunning photos of the hotel’s luxurious amenities, and maybe enjoy a peaceful afternoon by the pool.

But no. Fate had other plans.

Standing near the elevator, laughing with two ridiculously gorgeous women, was the same guy—The Worst Driver Alive. My experience with him a day ago had left a bad impression, and I never wanted to bump into him again.

He was dressed in a white shirt tucked into fitted black slacks, the sleeves rolled up just enough to show off annoyingly perfect forearms. But that wasn’t what caught my attention.

It was the fact that he had two stunning women hanging off his arms. Both looked like high-end models. One had long, wavy blonde hair and wore a bright red dress that hugged her curves. The other had jet-black hair and legs that seemed to go on forever, her emerald-green dress shimmering under the sunlight.

I quickly turned away, my heart pounding for no reason. Why was I even surprised? Of course, a guy like him was with two gorgeous women. He probably had an entire list of them waiting in line.

"No wonder he has such a shitty personality. Women are all over him. His looks and popularity have already gotten into his small head. Disgusting," I muttered to myself.

They laughed at everything he said as he flirted with them. He probably thought he was God’s gift to women.

I swallowed my irritation and focused on blending into the background.

Don’t look. Don’t react. Just do your job, Ava.

I kept my head down, pretending to review photos on my camera in a corner, facing the wall.

One of the women pressed the elevator button, and I caught a glimpse of their conversation.

“Are we going up to have some fun?” the blonde asked, as she traced a finger across his chest.

“Of course,” he said casually. "That's why we're here."

The elevator dinged, and they stepped inside. As the doors closed, he glanced up, his gaze sweeping the lobby. I turned back to face the wall, my heart beating fast.

The last thing I saw before the elevator closed?

His hand on the waist of the one on green.

I rolled my eyes and turned away.

Whatever. Not my business. Not my problem.

Thankfully, he didn’t see me.

Good.

I shook my head. Focus, Ava. You’re here for work, not to spy on a playboy like him.

With them gone, I tried to shake off the annoyance and focus on my task. After taking some more pictures and doing some videos, I made my way to the pool area. The hotel’s outdoor pool was stunning, framed by swaying palm trees and classy white lounge chairs, fancy umbrellas, and a sparkling blue pool that stretched across half the space.The kind of place where people came to relax, spend too much money, and post pictures to make others jealous.

It was perfect.

I crouched near the edge of the pool, framing my shot. The angle was just right when a shadow fell over me.

“I know you're stalking me. Stop pretending. You staged that car accident just to get my attention or fabricate a story.”

I froze for a moment. I knew his voice, it was him. I bent my head down, almost laughing at his stupid statement.

Seriously? Me? Stalking him? Fat chance!

I didn’t bother looking up. Ignoring him was the best solution for my peace of mind. I focused on my camera, adjusting the settings.

"Guess you're a reporter... looking for a way to ruin me. I know ladies like you," he taunted.

I took a deep breath, keeping my eyes on the viewfinder.

“Ladies like you just want a piece of me, then keep quiet after collecting some money, gifts or maybe an erotic night with me. You’re all the same.”

That was it, I couldn't keep quiet as planned. 

"Think whatever you want, I don't care. I am not interested in anything about you." I finally responded. Waving my hand at him like I was chasing a fly away.

"So I guess it’s just a coincidence you were at the front earlier, too?" he spoke to me like I had to prove myself.

I crossed my arms. "Oh, you mean when you were walking into the hotel with your—" I made air quotes. "‘Friends’?"

He laughed a bit, sarcastically. "Jealous?"

I laughed too. "Not in this lifetime."

I snapped the photos I wanted from that angle and stood up trying to look like I wasn't interested in talking to him. But I made a mistake by standing up and facing his direction. 

I froze, my grip tightening on the camera.

There he was shirtless.

Water droplets clung to his hair, dripping down his skin down to his broad, chiseled abs that hinted at a disciplined gym routine. A small towel hung loosely around his neck.

Not that I was intentionally looking.

I quickly looked away, turning to walk off, but my foot slipped on the wet tiles.

“Oh my God!” I gasped, looking for how to gain balance.

Before I hit the ground, a strong hand gripped my arm, steadying me.

For a moment, I was too stunned to react. His grip was firm, his body too close. My hand had landed squarely on his chest which was warm, hard, and completely distracting. I froze, realizing where my hand was.

Am I staring at his chest like I’ve never seen a shirtless man before?

“Careful, sweetheart. Wouldn’t want you falling all over me,” he said, trying to mock me.

I jerked my hand back like I’d been burned, my face was turning pink or maybe red.

“Don’t call me sweetheart, and let go of me,” I snapped.

He released me, stepping back with an unconcerned expression. “As you wish.”

I glared at him, heart pounding for reasons I didn’t want to acknowledge. Without warning, he brushed past me, deliberately bumping my shoulder.

Thrown off balance, I stumbled backward, and fell straight into the pool.

The cold water swallowed me, and I came up sputtering, gasping for air. Everyone at the pool side were laughing like it was something funny. Including him and his side bitches.

I pushed my soaked hair out of my face, suppressing my rising anger.

He stood at the edge of the pool, arms crossed, completely unfazed.

“You asked for it,” he said casually.

“You—asshole!” I splashed water at him. “You did that on purpose!”

“You tripped yourself,” he said, bending down to take a good look at me in the pool. Like my frustration pleased him.

I swam to the other edge, pulling myself out with as much dignity as possible. My clothes clung to me, water dripping onto the floor.

“You are the most foolish person I’ve ever met,” I spat, walking up to him.

He froze, eyes widening slightly. Then I realized, my clothes were soaked through and completely see-through, clinging to my body.

I quickly grabbed a towel from a nearby chair, wrapping it around myself.

“At least your body’s better than your face,” he shot back.

That was it—the last straw.

I marched up to him and slapped him hard across the face. Gasps echoed around us.

The blonde woman stood up, storming toward me. “How dare you slap—”

“Do you want to get slapped too?” I glared at her with a dead serious face. She hesitated, clearly reading the seriousness in my expression, then backed off.

He didn’t say anything either, just stared at me with a look that promised we shouldn’t cross paths again.

Grabbing my camera bag, which thankfully hadn’t fallen into the water, I marched away, my wet shoes squeaking against the floor.

One thing was clear:

I hated him. No! I despised him, with my whole heart, soul and body.