Chapter Five   

Hazel was once again feeling the weight of her decision. She was in the back of a nicely air conditioned BMW. When she had claimed her bags and had begun to make her way out of the packed airport, she had seen a man dressed in black, holding a card with her name printed in bold, standing with the receiving crowd. By what little she had been able to learn from him, he was to drive her to The Mr. Johnathon Steel's home. And there, she predicted, she would meet both the older and younger Mr. Steels.

The car ride seemed to be longer than her flight. Her brain bounced from one concern to another as if a professional game of baseball were being played in her head; with her thoughts substituting for a baseball. With each passing second, Hazel began to feel sweaty and itchy all thanks to nervousness. When the car pulled into a lengthy driveway, Hazel checked how she looked. First her face, a little flushed. Then her outfit. Determined not to betray the woman she was, she had chosen shorts and a tank top with a cropped top over it. Her legs were strapped in low platform heels and she had thankfully found a strong enough rubber band that could manage containing her hair in a frizzy ponytail.

It was the moment of truth. She took a deep breath and left all her uncertainties in the car as she stepped out, determined to stand tall and dazzle anyone that stood in her way.

The first person happened to be the older Mr. Steel, who smiled a gracious smile as she entered the room.

"My beautiful daughter-to-be. Let me get a look at you." Mr. Steel uttered calmly, staring at Hazel with a smile etched on his aging face.

"Yes. Breath taking." he said smiling even broader.

"My darling girl, how was your flight?" Lionel interjected, stepping toward her as if to hug her. Hazel took a sharp step to the side and met Mr. Steel's assessing blue eyes.

"Thank you for upgrading my flight but it wasn't necessary." Hazel responded, with practiced politeness.

Van cleared his throat from the corner of the room, bringing everyone's attention to him in a snap. Her eyes widen in the slightest fraction as she stared at a man fit for a magazine shoot. Even if she was successfully celibate for five years, she was still a woman and she felt like any other woman would in the direct attention of possibly the hottest male she'd ever laid eyes on.

"This, my dear is Van Steel, your husband-to-be."

So he's the one, huh, Hazel thought to herself. She quickly gave him an impassive once over, forming a stereotypical opinion of him. He was hot, simply put, and by the way the way he had the first two buttons of his white dress shirt causally popped open at the top, with the sleeves rolled up, and how perfectly the black dress pants fit his long legs, and the evidence of him running his hands through his neatly trimmed black hair, she knew that he knew that he was hot. His piercing dark eyes gobbled her up with reluctant admiration even as he gave her an icy glare that she knew rivaled the one she had aimed at him.

Hazel looked away, not because she was intimidated but because she was dismissing his presence. He, like her, was a toy in their fathers' game. And though he was being used just as she was, Hazel felt no affinity for him. If anything, she resented him more for being so spineless; like her.

Van felt his blood boil. Her message was loud and clear; she thought he was of no importance. As he had rightly guessed, she was a spoiled brat. A beautiful spoilt brat.

And she was very beautiful indeed. Even more so than the pictures he had seen. Her face was curved sweetly and her red hair, even though tied up above her head, was still framing her face in little frizzy curls that had escaped her control. The image she presented was contrasting and made his head spin in the most wonderful way.

As a debutant, she should have shown up draped in nothing but name brands, with her face expertly made up and hair probably sleeked back in a neat bun and the works. Yet she stood before him in sexy cut off shorts, and a shirt that hung of her shoulder in a naturally delicate way. And even so casually and defiantly dressed, Van felt her command for respect, her sensibilities, and most off all, how cold and closed off he expected her to be. And it provoked him on a level he did not understand.

He had felt himself react to her when she stepped into the room and he saw her react to him when he cleared his throat. But every moment since then she had closed herself off in a tower, where he guessed that the only thing she could see and care about was his father's money.

You'd do well to remember that, Van thought. He licked his lips and directed his attention to his father like she had

"Aren't you two going to talk to each other?" Mr. Steel inquired. He looked from Hazel to Van disbelievingly. Standing in the same room with them made him even more convinced that the union was something that needed to happen.

"Why don't you two go for a walk in the garden." He instructed, dismissing them. "Get over the initial greetings without us two old men around."

Knowing that he couldn't argue, Van turned to go, hesitating only briefly by the sliding glass door to hold it open. Hazel shot him a hollowing look, then finally walked by him and onto the path that led to the circular garden his step-mother had slaved over.

And Van goth could think of nothing else but strawberries. She smelt of a lush field of the sweetest wild strawberries known to man. The idea of kissing her pale pink lips and tasting those strawberries graced his mind, but he quickly dismissed it.

I should not be enchanted, he reminded himself.

Sighing, Van pulled the door close behind him and leisurely followed her until they were beyond their fathers' view. When they were near the benches surrounded by flowers, Hazel sat down and stared at her arm for a while. Van stood some ways away, his eyes glued to her. Her demeanor had changed ever so slightly, which got him to reevaluate his initial thoughts of her. Maybe she was a bimbo-debutant after all – a puppet on a string –, and her cold act before was due to nerves.

Then she spoke.

"Let's get something clear: I don't want to be here. With you. If you want to leave or there is someone you'd rather be with, I bid you go."

Van wasn't impressed. Not in the least. He'd thought her brattish for wanting an arranged marriage to a rich man's son, but her trying to expel him from his childhood home just pushed his buttons. He found himself rolling his eyes.

"And there she is. For a moment there I thought you were nervous." He scuffed, "Or perhaps this is what you do as a hobby."

Hazel remained silent, not giving him the satisfaction of an argument to vent his frustration.

"You are in fact right. I do have someone I'd rather be with. If you'd excuse me, Ms. George."

Van turned his back and stalked off.

Hazel felt a twinge of... of something akin to regret for being little less than a bitch but she immediately squashed that thought.

"It's the surprise talking." She reasoned with herself.

Hazel was regretting not looking him up. She had come expecting someone more corporate-looking, in their mind thirties and hopefully easy to intimidate. But by the looks of him, she guessed that he was some kind of freak phenomena of the boring world of business, and a womanizer no doubt. She hated womanizers. Being raised in the social class of the rich and powerful, Hazel had met many guys who thought themselves God's gift to humanity just because their fathers were rich and had convinced themselves that they were a modern day Narcissus; and rarely did they look it. The way they had flaunted their status had always disgusted her and that was partly the reason why she had found the laid back personality and average-guy persona that Flin Frank exuded.

But she had learned her lesson.

No one was to be trusted.

Especially those potentially close to her, who had the opportunity to hurt her.

*****FORCED*****

Double update? Check!

*holds cold spoon over eyes* I need my glasses/

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This is the last update for the year so Happy New Year whenever it hits you where ever you are!

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