5

Ciara Mendes

          Martha Haynes was not only a stunning woman but also radiated an extraordinary warmth that captivated everyone around her. As Micah and I stepped into their magnificent mansion, I was struck by the exquisite decor that surrounded us—a reflection of Martha's impeccable taste. Having interviewed numerous celebrities in their homes, I had come to expect nothing less than exceptional elegance, and this was certainly no exception.

"My husband should be here any minute. Unfortunately, my eldest son is out of town, but Richard is waiting for us in the living room, and Gio is getting ready," she explained as we made our way toward the living room, where the interview for the magazine article would take place.

"That's perfectly fine, Mrs. Haynes. We'll just set everything up while we wait," I informed her.

"Thank you, dear! I really appreciate that," she said with a warm smile. "I love your eyes. Do both of your parents have the same eye color?" she inquired, admiring my gray eyes.

I smiled at the lady as we entered the living room. "Thank you, Mrs. Haynes, but I actually inherited my eye color from my mother," I replied, recalling the conversation we had last night.

"That reminds me of Mat. Are you two, by any chance, related?" she asked Micah, who was busy carrying the equipment inside to set up his camera.

He stopped what he was doing to give his attention to Mrs. Haynes. "She's my sister, but not by blood," he replied.

Mrs. Haynes smiled at both of us before walking over to the glass table in the center of the room, surrounded by black leather couches.

"Who is Mat?" I asked Micah as we followed behind. He always knew more about the celebrities and their families than I did.

"I don't know, but I'm hoping he's someone I can set you up with."

"I wish you would stop playing cupid," I replied, rolling my eyes playfully.

"Ms. Mendes, Mr. Richmond," Mrs. Haynes called, drawing my attention to her side where an older version of the boy from the television stood, an unmistakable smirk on his face. "This is my youngest son, Richard," she continued, and I couldn’t shake the feeling of unease as his piercing gaze locked onto mine, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes.

"Please, Mother, I'm almost fourteen," Richard said, rolling his eyes dramatically as he sauntered toward me, his confidence palpable. The way he approached made me slightly wary, and I couldn't help but wonder what kind of trouble he might be brewing.

"You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen," he said, taking my hand and pressing a kiss to it while gazing up at me with his dark, unsettling eyes. I was taken aback, struggling to muster a smile as a wave of discomfort washed over me. His charm left me feeling more disturbed than flattered.

"Thanks," I said curtly, yanking my hand away from his grasp and walking past him, a mix of relief and irritation flooding over me. The encounter left a sour taste in my mouth, and all I wanted was to put distance between us, shaking off the uncomfortable attention of someone so clearly lacking the maturity to understand boundaries.

"Maybe I don't have to play cupid after all," Micah teased, a playful smirk on his face as I brushed past him. I shot him a glare, my irritation evident, before redirecting my focus to Mrs. Haynes, seeking her comfort and the familiarity of a safer conversation to escape the awkwardness of the moment.

"Will your husband and other son be here soon so we can start?" I asked Mrs. Haynes, eager to shift the conversation away from Micah's teasing remarks. Her presence offered a sense of stability, and I hoped the gathering would commence soon, providing a welcome distraction from the stray thoughts and emotions that had been unsettling me.

Before Mrs. Haynes had a chance to respond, a man walked in, adjusting his Rolex with an air of confidence. "I don't know where father is, but I'm right here," he announced, drawing our attention. His charismatic presence momentarily shifted the mood in the room, and I couldn't help but wonder about the dynamics that would unfold with him joining our gathering.

He wore a dark blue suit that accentuated his stature, while his hair had a casual, tousled charm that suggested he hadn’t fussed over it too much. Still engrossed in adjusting his Rolex, he barely noticed his mother reach for his wrist, gently fixing the watch for him. "Thank you, Mom," he said, his smile warm and appreciative.

Mrs. Haynes rushed over to me, taking my hand and pulling me toward the man whose warm brown eyes were fixed on me as she did so. "Gio, this is Ciara Mendes, a journalist from Flare Magazine. Ms. Mendes, this is my second eldest, Giovanni Haynes."

Giovanni removed one hand from his pant pocket and extended it toward me for a handshake. Mrs. Haynes stood nearby, observing with a proud smile as I grasped his hand and shook it firmly.

"It's lovely to meet you, Ms. Mendes," he said, still holding onto my hand.

I gently pulled my hand away. "Likewise, Mr. Haynes," I replied.

He smirked, slipping his hand back into his pocket. "Please, Mr. Haynes is my old man; call me Gio," he said, his demeanor shifting to a more relaxed tone.

Before I could respond and insist on calling him Mr. Haynes, Richard interrupted, his glare directed at his brother. "Would you stop flirting with her?" he snapped.

Gio, however, merely brushed off the remark and strolled over to an older version of himself.

The older Mr. Haynes exuded an air of coldness as he looked us over, his impatience palpable. "Let's just get this over with," he said curtly, while his wife stepped forward to introduce Micah and me, the warmth of her smile contrasting sharply with her husband's demeanor.

"Would you like to start with the pictures first?" Micah asked, breaking the silence.

They quickly agreed, although Mr. Haynes couldn’t help but grumble about having to make the effort to be there, insisting he was only interested in the photos before going back to his more pressing matters.

As Micah busied himself preparing the photographs, my phone buzzed insistently. Mrs. Haynes, sensing my need for privacy, kindly suggested I step out onto the balcony. I nodded in appreciation and excused myself, grateful for the momentary escape.

Giovanni Haynes

            It was her—the same woman I had seen last night. While I hadn’t clearly seen her face, her hair was unmistakably the same. She possessed the most captivating gray eyes and a stunning figure. I bit my bottom lip as I watched her curvy silhouette sway while she walked toward our balcony. My mind wandered to fantasies of her moaning against a wall as I took control, or envisioning her on a pool table, but my reverie was abruptly interrupted by the photographer.

"Sir, why don't you stand next to your mother for the photos?" he suggested, breaking my thoughts as he gestured for me to move closer to her.

He snapped a flurry of pictures until my father, growing weary, asked if that wasn't enough. While he grumbled about having work to do, the real reason was his inability to tolerate being in the same room as me for more than half an hour.

Father and I have always had a strained relationship; he envisioned me taking over his company, but I pursued my own path in LA and launched a successful manufacturing business, which only fueled his disapproval. Instead of pride, he called me a disgrace, not just for my career choices but also for my decision to remain unmarried, as he believed it reflected poorly on him.

“Sir, why not call Ciara to get started?” the photographer suggested, his mischievous smile hinting at something more playful behind his words.

If she wasn't my target, I might have fired back at him for trying to boss me around, questioning who he thought he was. However, his suggestion oddly intrigued me; it signaled that he might actually support my pursuit, which meant he probably wouldn’t interfere when I set my sights on making her fall for me.

"Call me Gio,” I said, giving him a friendly pat on the back before heading out.

“It still hurts, Evei,” I heard her sob into the phone. She was confiding in this person, Evei, while I lingered behind the large plant that Mother had placed on either side of the balcony entrance. I knew it was wrong to eavesdrop, but I needed to understand what I was getting myself into.

"I know," she giggled, even though tears still streamed down her face. "You hated him. I should have listened to you. You can spot a man who isn't worthy of love from a mile away."

She stayed quiet for a moment before speaking again. “It’s fine. I’m actually glad I found out before the wedding; if I hadn’t, it would have been so much worse, and I would have had to endure the entire divorce process.”

She was going to get married? What happened that caused the wedding to be postponed? I wondered to myself.

"I can't wait to see you... I love you too, Evei. Bye for now."

I decided not to approach her. I told Mat that she seemed to have a lot of problems and wouldn't be an easy target. There's no way I'm giving him ten percent of my company. He doesn't need to know that I met her again.

I entered the living room, contemplating a night out at a strip club before my flight back to LA tomorrow. The idea of unwinding and letting loose felt tempting, especially with the buzzing energy of the city still fresh in my mind.

"Did you tell her?" the photographer asked as I entered.

I stared at the man in front of me, weighing my words before shaking my head. "I didn't see her."

"She seems like a challenge," Mateo's voice echoed in my head as I watched her step into the room. Her confident stride and enigmatic presence immediately captivated me, igniting a mix of curiosity and intrigue that made me question what layers lay beneath her composed exterior.

"Let's get started," she said with a smiling face, but the brightness of her lips couldn't mask the traces of tears that lingered on her cheeks. The tip of her small nose was slightly red, and her eyes shimmered with remnants of sorrow, revealing a vulnerability that contrasted sharply with her cheerful demeanor, suggesting she was fighting to reclaim her composure in that moment.

She was crying on the inside, yet she still managed to maintain a smile on the outside, a mask of resilience that betrayed the turmoil brewing beneath. It was a delicate balancing act, her smile mingling with the shadows of her emotions, revealing a depth of strength that only made her more intriguing.