<b>Chapter </b><b>166 </b>
-HUNTER~
The first thing that hit me wasn’t the sight of half–naked men gyrating in my cousin’s living room.
It wasn’t even the fact that my pregnant girlfriend was being pulled into the center of what could only be described as Caroline’stest chaotic scheme.
No, the first thing that hit me was the look of pure shame on Celine’s face when she saw me standing in the doorway.
That look….like she wanted the floor to swallow her whole….made something protective and fierce unfurl in my chest.
My initial surge of jealousy, the crude urge to im what was mine, dissolved the moment I saw how ufortable she was.
One of the performers had his hands on her waist despite her obvious attempts to politely decline his attention. Her face was flushed with embarrassment, not excitement.
She wasn’t enjoying this. She was enduring it.
“Vincent,” I said quietly, never taking my eyes off Celine.
“On it.” My best friend stepped forward with that easy charm that made him invaluable in delicate situations.
“Ladies, gentlemen–I hate to interrupt such an… educational performance, but we need to borrow our girls for a moment.”
The music stopped abruptly. The performer who’d been focused on Celine immediately stepped back, professional enough to read the room.
Caroline, flushed with champagne and embarrassment, stumbled toward me. “Hunter! This isn’t what it looks like. Well, it is what it looks like, but it’s research! For my bachelorette party nningmittee!”
“Research,” I repeated tly.
“Yes! I’m being very thorough. Fredric will appreciate my dedication to….”
“Caroline.” My voice cut through her rambling. “We’ll discuss your research methodster.” <fn1009> Discover more novels at f?ndnovel</fn1009>
I moved across the room toward Celine, noting how the other women watched me with undisguised fascination.
One of them…a brte I recognize….had her phone out, though she lowered it quickly when I looked her way.
“Are you okay?” I asked Celine quietly, my voice intended only for her.
She nodded, but I could see the tension in her shoulders, the way she was unconsciously protecting her stomach with one hand.
“I’m fine,” she said, but her voice was strained. “Just… this is a lot.”
I looked around the room–at the half–dressed performers, at Caroline’s friends with their cameras and champagne, at the chaos my cousin
had orchestrated in the name of “research.”
“Get your things,” I told Celine. “We’re leaving.”
“Hunter, you can’t just….” Caroline started.
“I can and I am.” I kept my voice level but firm. “Celine is three months pregnant, Caroline. This kind of stress isn’t good for her or the baby.”
??<b>? </b>
Daly Aug
ke, who had been unusually quiet since my arrival, stepped forward. “I’ll get her purse.”
I was grateful for the support, even from someone who usually viewed me with suspicion.
“I don’t need to be rescued,” Celine said quietly, but she didn’t sound convincing.
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“I know you don’t.” I moved closer, close enough that only she could hear me. “But sometimes it’s okay to let someone take care of you anyway.”
Something shifted in her expression–surprise, maybe, or something softer that made my chest tighten.
<b>28 </b>
Vincent appeared at my elbow with Celine’s coat and purse. “The cavalry has arrived,” he announced cheerfully. “Ladies, it’s been absolutely fascinating, but duty calls.”
As we prepared to leave, I caught Caroline’s arm. “Next time you want to conduct research, maybe warn people first?”
She had the grace to look sheepish. “I just wanted everyone to have fun.”
“I know.” My tone softened slightly. “But think about your guests‘fort level before you spring surprises on them.”
“I’m sorry, Celine,” Caroline called out as we headed for the door. “I really didn’t think it through!”
Celine managed a small smile. “It’s okay, Caroline. Just… maybe fewer surprises next time?
In the elevator down to the parking garage, the silence stretched between us. Vincent, wise enough to sense the tension, focused intently on his phone.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Celine said finally.
“Do what?”
“Ride in like some white knight. I was handling it.”
I looked at her–really looked at her. The stress lines around her eyes, the way she was still unconsciously protecting her stomach, the lingering embarrassment in her posture.
“You were handling it,” I agreed. “But you shouldn’t have had to.”
The elevator dinged as we reached the parking level.
“I called the car,” Vincent announced. “Should be here in two minutes.”
“Thank you,” Celine said quietly.
We waited in the rtive privacy of the parking garage, the sounds of the city muted by concrete and steel.
“I wasn’t jealous,” I said suddenly, the words surprising even me.
Celine raised an eyebrow. “No?”
“Okay, I was jealous,” I admitted. “For about thirty seconds. But then I saw your face.”
“My face?”
“You looked like you wanted to disappear. And I realized that my feelings about the situation didn’t matter. Yours did.”
She was quiet for a long moment, studying me with those warm brown eyes that always seemed to see too much.
“That’s… surprisingly mature of you,” she said finally.
“Don’t sound so shocked. I’m capable of growth.”
A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “Evidence suggests otherwise, but I’m willing to be proven wrong.”
The town car pulled up, and Vincent opened the door for us. As Celine settled into the seat beside me, I caught a glimpse of something that made my blood run cold.
Across the street, partially hidden behind a parked car, a middle–aged woman with dark hair was watching us. She held a camera with a telephoto lens, and as our car pulled away, I saw her raise it to capture our departure.
I pulled out my phone and quickly typed a message to Derek: ‘The woman from the café. She’s here. Romano’s parking garage across from the Meridian building. Get everything you can.’
“Something wrong?” Celine asked, noticing my sudden tension.
I looked at her–tired, pregnant, still processing the emotional whish of the evening–and made a decision.
“No,” I said, sliding my phone back into my pocket. “Everything’s fine.”
Some battles were mine to fight alone. At least until I knew what we were up against.
But as the car carried us through the night toward home, I couldn’t shake the feeling that our peaceful bubble was about to be shattered.
Again.
~CELINE~
The ride back to the penthouse was quieter than usual, filled with an tension I couldn’t quite name. Hunter seemed lost in thought, his jaw tight in a way that meant he was either angry or worried.
Probably both.
“I really didn’t know about the strippers,” I said as the elevator carried us up to his floor.
“I know.”
“Caroline means well, she just….”
“Celine.” He turned to face me, his blue eyes serious. “You don’t have to exin Caroline to me. I’ve known her my entire life.”
The elevator dinged softly as we reached the penthouse.
“Then why do you look like you want to murder someone?”
He was quiet as we stepped into the apartment, his movements careful and controlled in that way that meant he was thinking hard about something.
“Hunter?”
Instead of answering, he moved to therge windows overlooking the city, his hands shoved deep in his pockets.
“There’s something I need to tell you,” he said finally.
15.09 Sat, <b>9 </b>Aug
My stomach dropped. Nothing good ever started with those words.
“What is it?”
He turned back to me, his expression conflicted. “Someone’s been watching me. Us. For the past week.”
“Watching us? What do you mean watching us?”
“A woman. Middle–aged, dark hair. She’s been positioned at the café across from my office every morning<i>. </i>Today she followed us to Caroline’s building.”
The room suddenly felt too warm. “Who is she?”
Hunter’s jaw tightened. “Her name is Margaret Torres. She’s your aunt. Your mother’s sister.”
The words hit me like a physical blow. I reached for the back of the nearest chair, needing something solid to hold onto.
“My aunt?” My voice came out as barely a whisper. “Margaret?”
“You know her?”
“I…” I shook my head, trying to process this information. “I haven’t seen her in years. Not since I was a teenager. She and my mother had some kind of falling out.”
“What kind of falling out?”
I sank into the chair, my mind racing back to fragments of overheard conversations, hushed arguments between my mother and her sister that had ended abruptly whenever I entered the room.
“I was never really clear on the details,” I said slowly. “But I think it had something to do with money. Margaret was always asking my mother
for loans, and my mother thought she was irresponsible.”
Hunter moved closer, his expression dark. “What would she want with you now?”
“I don’t know.” But even as I said it, pieces were starting to fall into ce. “Unless…”
“Unless what?”
“Unless she knows about you. About us.” I looked up at him, fear beginning to creep into my voice. “Hunter, what if she’s not just watching? What if she’s nning something?”
His expression grew even more grim. “That’s exactly what I’m worried about.”
The penthouse suddenly felt less like a sanctuary and more like a cage. Outside the windows, the city sparkled with millions of lights, but all I could think about was a woman with dark hair and a camera, watching, waiting.
nning.
“What do we do?” I asked.
Hunter’s phone buzzed. He nced at it, and his expression darkened further.
“We figure out what she wants,” he said grimly, “before she makes her move.”
He showed me the phone screen. A text message with a photo attachment.
<b>15:09 </b><b>Sat</b>, 9 Aug
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A photo of us leaving Caroline’s building tonight. Clear, professional quality. The kind of photo that would look very interesting in the right
tabloid.
Below the image, a phone number and a single line of text: ‘We need to talk