CHAPTER 3: Breaking the Ice

People marry because there's love; they willingly wear their rings either until they get old and wither or just until they get over each other.

Yet here I am, being the payment of my family's debt. How wonderful.

Clad in a sequined white off-shoulder A-line gown, I simply rubbed my calf using my foot.

It had been roughly half an hour since I stood in the middle of the venue. My feet are used to wearing heels all day long, but there's something about today that makes me feel so tired.

Passing my weight to my other leg, I imagine myself plopping in my bed, free from heavy gowns, killer heels, and making out with the ghost of Michael's hotness.

"Keep your posture decent, Natasha. The least we want to happen is Michael rejecting you for being his anointed wife. If that happens, our company will be nothing but dust," Mom chided me, flicking my back with the back of her hand.

Being a model means having good posture, but my mother doesn't want to give my back a rest.

"Remember everything I told you," Mom began. "Seduce him, be an angel in his eyes. He's the only hope we had. We should be thankful that Thalia liked you because you're pretty and famous. And she mentioned something about taking you as the model of their liquor brand."

I could only roll my eyes at that.

A puppet is who I am.

My mother says do this, I will. My father told me to make this happen, I will.

"Are you even listening to what I'm saying?"

"Mom, I heard you. You told me that five times already in the same hour," I answered. "I'm not senile, okay? I'm twenty-six."

"You don't talk like that, especially when the Monteros are around," she chided once more before announcing the arrival of Michael's family.

Even if my eyes don't bother looking, I can already smell the aristocratic perfume coming from their marching Armani shoes.

When I turned, my eyes immediately landed on Michael.

His hair was neatly brushed backwards, his piercing eyes are looking back at me, studying me from head to toe.

I immediately stood like a Barbie doll, highlighting my curves as I pushed my hair to the back and show him my bare shoulders and neck.

Only a mad man would refuse a woman like me.

His brooding aura could give someone a nightmare, either by a hopeless dream of having him or being killed by his straight-to-the-point impression towards whatever he sees.

"Olga Kaufman," Thalia greeted mom with a peck on her cheek. "How lovely you are in that dress."

"Not as much as you do," Mom fed the nauseating falseness of rich people.

I've been living in the world my family gave me, as well as the industry my mother put me in, and seeing through people's smiles and lies are what I witness almost every single day. I know the pattern of their falseness.

Thalia commented on how lovely my dress is, when in fact, I've always been gorgeous in everything I put on.

"Martin," Mom greeted Thalia's husband with a nod of her head. "This charity event is like an opening for every battered woman. For a man who found this foundation and started this charity, I think that it's very liberal and equal."

When Mom began chatting about businesses and about the charity, I thought I was going to faint.

"Come with me," I heard Michael utter.

I almost jumped to my place, when did he step closer to me?

He placed his hand on my back, causing my already straightened back to arch.

My gown felt tighter than brand-new as he slowly took my breath every passing second.

Leading us to the balcony, Michael took two glasses of champagne and offered one for me.

"You're oddly chivalrous tonight, I wonder why," I commented as I accepted the glass from him.

I made sure that my fingers would touch his hand to leave a bit of a nice and sensual impression on him. But instead of giving it to him, it looked like it backfired on me.

When our skin touched, I thought I got shocked and almost passed out.

"You will be introduced as my fiancée tonight, so keep your head straight and use the face you show in front of the cameras," he coldly told me, sipping his champagne.

My eyes landed on his neck and watched how the lump on his throat bobbed up and down as he swallowed.

Sexy.

I suddenly have the urge to shower his neck with kisses while I ride him.

Only if he's friendlier. I could only wish.

"You're staring," he noticed, pouring all his attention to me. "People usually get the wrong idea when someone stares at them."

"And what kind of idea did you get when I 'allegedly' stared at you?" I asked, denying the fact that I was staring at him.

Does my eyes ignite something in him? I believe they do. Many people have mentioned it, my eyes show millions of twinkling stars like the night sky.

And by that means, I have this certain effect on him. All he has to do is admit it.

"I don't waste my time over unnecessary things," he replied, leaving my expectations flat-lined just like the tone of his voice—flat. "Assuming is for people who live in expectancies in life and usually end up heartbroken."

"Can I ask you a question?" I lifted my forefinger as I leaned on the banister and stared at his side profile.

His eyes were blankly staring in the air. The coldness of his attitude irked me, but his face and wealth paid for it.

"In what kind of species do you consider yourself? Because humans have feelings, whether they're sympathetic or as hard as diamond, but you, you act like a robot. Do you have feelings?"

Michael gave me a side glance. "I brought you here to give the shutterbugs a sight to capture, not to listen to your endless blabber."

He ignored what I said, as expected.

"I don't want you to run your mouth when the press is around. You might have slipped some confidential information about my company or the real deal of the relationship and mark a negative impact on my family's name."

Close to scoffing, I composed myself as I spotted some of the paparazzi blending in with the guests.

I stepped closer to him. I thought that he was going to take a step away, but no, he kept his place and let me touch his arm.

"Do you hate people that much?" I asked, and he kept those luscious lips thinned. "I wonder what made you this way," I said it as a tease, but a glimpse of expression made his right eye twitch.

Interesting. The bastard had a terrible past. I wonder what happened to him.

I should probably do some research about him at home. Take some notes and dig deep into his profile.

I was about to leave him alone when he suddenly turned and placed his glass on a table.

"What are you doing?" I asked him and watched him pull a velvet box from his inner jacket pocket and show me something shiny and big.

"You're gonna need this," he said, picking it up for me and took my hand to slide the engagement ring on my finger.

A pink diamond!

I gasped and stared at it. How much does this worth?!

"This is for me?" I asked with my eyes wide.

"Use your common sense, I just put it on your finger." His sweetness showed, and I am so turned on.

What the actual heck? His sarcasm is sticking to me like some kind of plague!

I should remind myself every day to keep myself me.

"Weren't you supposed to be on one knee?" I questioned him.

"Stop complaining," he scolded me like a child.

I was about to rant when Martin showed up searching for something or for us.

"There you are, lovebirds, come on inside. The event is starting," Martin had us called and led the way back inside.

I didn't anticipate anything about this night since Michael was born in winter and had a cold in his head or developed hypothermia since the day he was born. But the way Michael suddenly showed unusual traits of a gentleman surprised me.

My butt cheeks are blushing hard.

"This event was originally formed to show support for the women who were victims of abuse, who were seeking the right home and the right place to run to..." Martin began his speech while his wife, Thalia, stood behind him as his backbone.

Mom keeps taking pictures of them like a fanatic and obviously trying to display so much excitement, almost ignoring Dad's presence, who's currently trying to mingle with other businessmen around the venue.

I hugged myself as the place seemingly dropped a degree.

My bare skin almost showed goosebumps if it weren't for Michael's warmth as he stood beside me.

"You know, if you want to feed these nosy press something to talk about, you should at least show some sweetness towards me," I whispered to him and looked around.

"Sweetness is for couples who truly love each other, not between us, Ms. Kaufman," he replied.

"I feel like I'm gonna have to run to your father and ask for help as a battered woman. You've been stepping on my ego since the very first day we met. My heart is bleeding," I scoffed and crossed my arms.

"Don't cross your arms," he chided me.

"And what are you gonna do if I don't listen?"

His head turned in my direction so slowly and threw me his irritated look on his face. "You're acting like a little girl. Don't you know how to behave?"

"Only if daddy promises not to punish me," I teased him, winking and wore a triumphant smile when I noticed a new expression on his face. Surprise.

"...my son, Michael Montero." Martin ended his speech by introducing his son, and the light was pointed our direction.

I clapped my hands gracefully as I diverted my eyes back to him. He's still staring at me with his flabbergasted face.

"Michael?" Martin called his son through the microphone, but the jerk hasn't moved on from what I said.

I had to elbow him discreetly, and that's when he found his composure back.

"Don't do that," he chided me once more, and I had to stifle my chuckle.

"Which one? Calling you daddy or saving you from embarrassment?" I gestured to the crowd at him using my eyes. "You're staring at me, and everyone can see it."

"Michael, son?" Martin tried catching his attention, and this time, he succeeded. "Looks like you're being too engrossed staring at your beautiful lady," he teased, obviously to fuel the rumor causing the guests to chortle in chorus.

Michael kept a straight face as he walked to the stage and took the floor for him.

I saw my Mom giving me a proud smile before motioning her hands in the air, reminding me to keep my head up high.

"I want to present you all, my fiancée. Natasha Kaufman," I heard Michael's voice mention my name for the first time, and it rolled perfectly on his tongue.

His fiancée, me, Natasha Kaufman. Shit! Shit! Shit! My panties are getting wet!

He extended his hand in my direction as I climbed the stairs to the stage and I accepted it.

My knees almost gave up on me when our hands touched. His hand is so big compared to mine. I wonder how it feels like to have those hands all over my body. What if he thrust his fingers inside me?

"Stop eye-raping me, Ms. Kaufman, there are a lot of eyes watching," he warned me as we were being welcomed as the world's newest hot couple.

The applause coming from the crowd boosted my confidence. They like me. Why wouldn't they?

"I thought that assuming is for people who live in expectations?" I retorted, and scooted closer to him.

"Assuming and stating the obvious have a huge difference, and mind giving me my personal space?" He tried to create distance between us, but I almost threw myself at him, causing my boobs to be squeezed against his chest.

I felt him stiffen, and it caused me a reason to smile widely.

The conservative man is being seduced.

"Smile, babe, smile!" I encouraged him and poked his cheek. "The press won't buy us being a couple if you keep glaring at me."

He squinted his eyes at me, I know what he's trying to do. He's trying to make me willies, but nah-uh-uh, I'm Natasha Kaufman, Natasha Montero now.

"Or is it that you want to be punished, my baby boy?" I added a tease before waving at the crowd like a beauty queen.

He hates it when he's being towered by someone else, if so, I'm going to make him realize that women will always conquer the world.

But as I was about to have my triumph, I felt his hand snake around my waist and pull me closer to him.

I felt his breath hit my ear as he whispers, "You want to play this way? Fine, I'll give it to you. But let me tell you this, Ms. Kaufman. I'm a hard man to break."

My spine chilled, but I accept the challenge. Let's see what breaks the diamond.