HUNTER’S POV-


    The club is loud.


    Too loud.


    The bass thrums through my chest, banging inside me like a second heartbeat. Bodies move around me, neon lights slicing through the darkness, illuminating faces I don’t recognize-and don’t care to.


    The air is thick with sweat, alcohol, and desperation.


    Vincent, on the other hand, is thriving. He leans against the bar like he owns the ce, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he watches me with amusement.


    “See?” he shouts over the music, pping a hand on my shoulder. “This is exactly what you needed.”


    I take a slow sip of my drink, feeling the burn of whiskey slide down my throat. I don’t answer. I’m not sure if I agree,


    A woman slides into the space next to me, her perfume cloying and sweet. She’s gorgeous-long legs, dark eyes, a perfect, practiced smile.


    She leans in, pressing her fingers lightly against my arm. “Haven’t seen you here before,” she purrs. “You don’t look like the type.”


    I should be interested. I should let my gaze linger, let her pull me into the mindless distractions that Vincent so clearly wants for me.


    But when she touches me, something sharp twists inside my chest.


    My mind shes, unbidden, to the way Celine touched Caesar’s cheek earlier, the softness in her eyes, the way herugh had spilled out, light and easy.


    I down the rest of my drink and signal for another.


    “Hunter,” Vincent drawls, watching me like a man who knows exactly what’s happening in my head. “Tell me are you drinking to enjoy yourself or drinking to forget?”


    I ignore him. Instead, I turn back to the woman beside me, forcing myself to focus. “You were saying?” I ask, voice smooth, detached.


    Her smile returns, pleased at my attention. “Just that I don’t usually see men like you in ces like this.”


    Men like me.


    She doesn’t know what the hell she’s talking about.


    exhale slowly, leaning in just enough to make her breath hitch. “And what kind of man do you think I am?”


    The flirtation is easy-too easy. She tilts her chin up, eyes twinkling, waiting for me to make a move. But I don’t.


    Because suddenly, I’m remembering something else


    A different night. A different touch. Celine brushed/past me in the hallway, the warmth of her body so close, her scent lingering in the air between us.


    My stomach tightens.


    Fuck.


    “Hunter.”


    Vincent’s voice cuts through my thoughts like a de. When I look at him, he isn’t smirking anymore. His gaze is sharp, unreadable.


    “You can screw a hundred women tonight,” Vincent says, swirling the amber liquid in his ss. “And it still won’t get her out of your head


    My grip tightens around my ss.


    Vincent tilts his head slightly. Waiting. Pushing. Enjoying this.


    ! don’t want to give him the satisfaction. I don’t want to acknowledge that Celine has gotteri under my skin, that no matter how much I drink, no matter how much I try to distract myself, she’s there.


    She’s always there.


    The woman next to me says something, but I don’t hear it. I’m already standing, m


    I need control.


    pulse hammering in my skull. I need air.


    But then-someone shoves past me, hard, knocking against my shoulder. I barely react, , but Vincent sees it. He chuckles. “Go ahead,” he murmurs, tipping his ss toward me. “Lose control. You’ll feel better.”


    My jaw clenches.


    And then-I do.


    Before I can stop myself, I turn, find the guy who shoved me, and grab him by the cor. The music swells, the crowd around us parting as I m him against the bar.


    The guy sputters, raising his hands. “What the fuck, man?”


    But I don’t care. Because for the first time all night, my mind is silent. And I’m not thinking about Celine anymore.


    Not at all.


    The guy struggles in my grip, his hands shoving at my chest, but I don’t let go. My fingers tighten around his cor, my pulse hammering in my skull..


    The music pounds in my ears, the neon lights shing in time with my erratic heartbeat.


    “Hey, man! Chill the fuck out!” His voice is panicked now, eyes wide as he nces around for help.


    I barely hear him.


    I’m not here. Not really.


    I’m somewhere else-back at the house, watching Celine tuck Caesar beb


    I her like she needed to shield him from me. As if I was something to be


    afraid of.


    grind my teeth, shaking the thought away, but it sticks, sinking its ws into my chest.


    “You gonna throw a punch, or just stand there holding him like an idiot?” Vincent’s voice slices through the moment, low and taunting.


    That makes me hesitate.


    Because he wants this.


    He wants me to snap, to lose control, to prove whatever point he’s been circling all night. That I care too much. That I’m unraveling over someone I shouldn’t even think twice about.


    I shove the guy back roughly, releasing my grip. He stumbles, cursing, but doesn’te at me again. Smart.


    Vincent just smirks. “That was almost fun”


    I don’t answer him. I grab my drink, swallowing the rest in one burning gulp before mming the ss down onto the bar. My hands are shaking. pisses me off.


    I need to get the hell out of here.


    But Vincent isn’t done.


    As I turn to leave, he steps in front of me, blocking my path. “I’ll say it again,” he muses, tapping his fingers against his ss. “You can screw a hundred women tonight, and it still won’t change a damn thing.”


    I re at him. “And what exactly do you think that is?”


    His smirk deepens. “That you’re fucked, my friend.”


    I push past him. I don’t stop to see if he follows. I don’t care. The club is suffocating now, the air thick with alcohol and perfume, but none of it can drown out the scent still stuck in my memory.


    Celine.


    It’s always her.


    I storm outside, sucking in a lungful of cool air, but it doesn’t help. The night is dark, the city buzzing around me, but all I can see is her. Her hands. Her eyes. The way she looked at me* before I left.


    Like she knew. Like she saw right through me. I drag a hand through my hair, breathing hard.


    This is insane.


    She’s a damn maid. That’s what I keep telling myself. But it’s a lie. And we both know it.


    ~CELINE’S POV~


    I tell myself it doesn’t bother me.


    Hunter left with Vincent, the way Vincent had smirked, the way Hunter had looked right through me before walking out the door-it shouldn’t matter.


    But it does.


    And I hate that it does.


    I keep busy. That’s what I do. I gather the linens, fold them, and smooth them out like my hands aren’t shaking. I tuck Caesar into bed, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead as he sighs in his sleep:


    I sit with Cole in the garden for a while, listening as he talks about his design ns, trying to let the sound of his voice drown out the thoughts circling in my head.


    Cole watches me. He’s careful about it like he doesn’t want me to notice, but I do.


    “You okay?” he finally asks.


    I force a smile. “Of course.”


    He doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t push/Instead, he nudges my arm yfully. “I don’t think Hunter is a bad guy, althoug


    I stiffen butugh anyway. “You think?”


    ould smile a little?”


    He smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. And when I nce toward the house, I know why. Because I’m looking for someone who isn’t here,


    Because even when Hunter isn’t in the room, he is.


    14


    E


    I should sleep.


    I should let it go.


    But when the house is quiet, when everyone else has settled into the kind of peace I can’t seem to find, I slip outside. The night air is crisp, wrapper around me as I walk aimlessly-except it isn’t aimless at all.


    I tell myself I’m just checking to make sure everywhere is locked. I just want to make sure he’s still asleep, safe and sound.


    But my feet take me down the hall, past the kitchen, toward the one ce I shouldn’t be drawn to.


    Hunter’s wing.


    I don’t even know why I stop. Why do I stay outside his door like I’m waiting for something? But maybe I do know. Maybe I’ve known for a while now. And Then He’s There.


    The sound of footsteps. Slow, uneven. The scrape of shoes against the marble.


    I turn just as Hunter steps into the dimly lit hallway.


    My breath catches.


    He looks… wrecked.


    His shirt is unbuttoned at the cor, his sleeves pushed up haphazardly. There’s a flush to his skin, the kind that onlyes from drinking too much, from trying to forget. His hair is a mess like he’s run his hands through it a hundred times.


    And his eyes-God, his eyes.


    They lock onto mine, dark and unreadable. Something inside me clenches. He exhales, slow and heavy.


    “What are you doing here?” His voice is low, and rough around the edges.


    I could ask him the same thing. I could pretend this is nothing.


    But I can’t lie to myself tonight. “I don’t know,” I admit, barely above a whisper.


    His gaze flickers-something unreadable, something dangerous, And then, just like that, the space between us snaps wide open. <fn943a> The source of th?s content is find[f]ovel</fn943a>


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