HUNTER’S POV-
The drive to Caroline’s engagement party had been a blur of city lights and racing thoughts.
Margaret Torres was handled–permanently removed from our lives with a one–way ticket to Florida and enough money to ensure she stayed gone.
I should have felt victorious, protective, like the kind of man who could shield his family from any threat.
Instead, all I could think about was how Celine had looked this morning when I had left for that meeting.
Soft and sleepy in our bed, her hair spread across my pillow like dark silk, one hand unconsciously resting on the gentle curve where our baby grew.
She had smiled when I kissed her goodbye, murmuring something about seeing me at the party.
“Don’t work toote,” she’d whispered, her fingers trailing down my arm. “I want to dance with <i>you </i>tonight.”
I was already twenty minuteste.
The penthouse was exactly what I had expected–all crystal and marble and carefully created ssiness.
Caroline had outdone herself, though I barely registered the details as I stepped inside. My eyes were already searching, scanning the crowd of Manhattan’s elite for the only face that mattered.
And then I found her.
She stood near the floor–to–ceiling windows overlooking Central Park, the city lights creating a halo around her silhouette.
The navy dress I had chosen clung to her in all the right ces, the soft beading catching the light every time she moved.
She looked radiant, absolutely breathtaking–and my chest tightened with the familiar surge of possession and pride that always hit me
when I saw her like this.
But she wasn’t alone.
A man stood beside her, and even from across the room, I could see the easy acquaintance between them.
He was tall, well–dressed, with the kind of sure pose that spoke of old money and Ivy League educations.
Everything about his bodynguage screamedfort, intimacy, and belonging.
My steps slowed as recognition hit like a physical blow.
<b>It </b>was him. The bastard from the motel.
Of course. Of course<b>, </b>it would be him.
1
I watched them from the bar, my fingers wrapped around a crystal tumbler of whiskey that I didn’t remember ordering.
Celine wasughing–reallyughing–in a way that made something twist painfully in my chest.
When was thest time I heard that sound from her? When was thest time she had looked that rxed, that genuinely happy?
Not in weeks. Maybe longer.
He leaned in to say something, and she yfully nudged his shoulder in response. Such a small gesture, innocent enough, but it felt like a knife between my ribs.
She touched him so easily, so naturally, like they had been doing this dance for years.
‘You trust her,‘ I told myself, the words feeling hollow even in my own head. ‘She chose you, She’s having your baby. She said yes when you proposed.’
But watching them together, seeing the way her face lit up when he spoke, the way she unconsciously swayed closer to him when the crowd
pressed in around them–it didn’t feel like trust.
It felt like watching someone else live the life I wanted.
The life I thought I had.
“You look like you’re nning a murder.”
ke’s voice cut through my spiraling thoughts. I nced down to see my knuckles white around the ss, the crystal groaning under the
pressure.
“Just watching the party,” I said carefully, not trusting my voice to stay level.
ke followed my gaze to where Celine and the guy were still deep in conversation. “That’s Fredric’s cousin. ncey something. Apparently,
he and Celine know each other from before.”
Before<i>. </i>Such a loaded word.
Before me? Before us? Before she learned to be careful with herughter around men who might want to steal it?
“How well do they know each other?” The question came out rougher than I had intended.
“I don’t know the details.” ke studied my face with those sharp eyes that missed nothing. “But Hunter, whatever you’re thinking…..”
“I’m not thinking about anything.” I downed the whiskey in one burning gulp, weing the fire that did nothing to cool the heat building in
my chest.
“She’s allowed to have friends.”
The words tasted like lies.
Across the room, Celine threw her head back as sheughed at something ncey said, and the gesture….so unguarded, so genuine….felt
like a betrayal.
That was supposed to be mine. Her joy, her ease, herplete attention.
Now she was giving it all to him.
“Hunter.” ke’s voice had taken on a warning tone. “You need to get a grip. She’s not doing anything wrong.”
I knew that. Rationally, I knew that.
Celine was exactly where she was supposed to be–at Caroline’s party, socializing, being the kind of partner who could hold her own in any
<b>room</b><b>. </b>
Everything Thad ever warded in a woman
So why did watching her were at it make me want to drag her home and lock her away where only could see her smile?
*Because you’re a possessive bastard, the voice in my head supplied helpfully. Because you know what men like him want, and you’ve seen
that look before.
I had seen it before.
In my own mirror, years ago, when I was the one circling married women and recent divorcees with practiced charm and expensive gifts.
I knew exactly what ncey was thinking when he looked at Celine, knew exactly what he was offering with those careful touches and
attentive conversation.
And the worst part? Part of me couldn’t me him.
“I need another drink,” I muttered, pushing away from ke before she couldunch into whatever lecture she was preparing
The bartender, a nervous young man who kept ncing at my face like he expected me to explode, poured another double whiskey with
shaking hands.
In the mirror behind him, I caught another glimpse of them…..heads bent together over something on ncey’s phone, Celine’s hand resting
briefly on his arm as she pointed at whatever they were looking at.
Such small intimacies. Such innocent gestures.
So why did they feel like watching her cheat?
Let me stand beside you, not behind you.‘ Her words from this morning echoed in my head, sweet and trusting and full of faith in our future
together.
Yet here she was, standing beside someone else while I watched from across the room like a jealous teenager.
Maybe this was what she needed–someone who didn’te with the baggage of billion–dor empires and hostile takeovers.
Someone who could make herugh without calcting the cost.
Someone who looked at her like she was enough, just as she was, without needing to drape her in designer gowns and diamond jewelry to
prove her worth.
The thought made me sick.
Someone called my name, probably a business associate looking towork….But I ignored them.
All my attention was focused on the nightmare unfolding across the room, on the growing certainty that I was losing her to a man who probably thought pancakes and bad coffee made up a romantic gesture. <fnb00b> Discover more novels at Find_Novel(.</fnb00b>
When had I be the kind of man who inspired duty instead of joy? When did loving me be work instead of pleasure?
I was so lost in my spiraling thoughts that I almost missed it–the moment Celine reached out and touched ncey’s arm again, her fingers staying just a second too long as she made some point about whatever story he was telling.
That was it. The final straw.
I set the empty ss down with controlled precision and started across the room, my focus narrowing to a tunnel.
Conversations muddled into background noise.
The glittering crowd faded to shadows.
The careful control I had built over years of boardroom negotiations and hostile takeovers cracked like ice under pressure.
There was only her. Only them. Only the space between us that I was about to eliminate.
With each step, I felt the civilized man I’d spent decades bing slip away, reced by something primitive and possessive that didn’t care about proper behavior or social conventions.
I told myself I’d stay calm, that I’d handle this with the sophistication expected of a man in my position.
But I knew I’d already lost that battle.
ncey noticed me first.
Those green eyes–the same ones that had stared me down in a motel parking lot months ago–widened slightly as he took in my expression.
Recognition shed across his face, followed quickly by something that might have been resignation.
He remembered ourst meeting too. Good.
Celine turned a heartbeatter, her face lighting up with genuine pleasure that almost–almost–made me forget why I was angry.
“Hunter! You made it.” She reached for me instinctively, her hand warm against my arm. “I was starting to worry you’d miss the whole party.”
But her smile died when she really looked at my face.
I watched the joy drain from her eyes, reced by something that looked dangerously close to fear.
The reasonable part of my brain screamed at me to smile, to pull her close and kiss her hello, to act like the man she deserved instead of the
monster I was bing.
But that part was drowning under a tide of jealousy so pure and vicious it left me breathless.
The temperature around us seemed to drop ten degrees.
Other guests began to notice the tension, conversations faltering as curious eyes turned our way.
“Am I interrupting something?” The words came out low and cold, each syble strictly pronounced.
Celine’s hand tightened on my arm, <i>her </i>fingers trembling slightly. “Hunter, you remember ncey. He’s Fredric’s cousin.”
Of course he fucking was.
The universe had a sick sense of humor, bringing the man who’d tried to y white knight to my runaway woman right back into our lives.
I looked at ncey–looked at him in his expensive suit, standing in these elite surroundings like he belonged here.
Like he belonged near her.
The same protective posture, the same righteous concern in his eyes that had made me want to break his neck at that motel.
“ncey,” I said, his name tasting like,poison. “What a<b>… </b>coincidence.”
The silence stretched between us, thick with unstated threats and half–remembered violence.
Around us, the party continued, but I could feel the effect of curious stares, the slight shift as people sensed drama brewing in their carefully orchestrated evening.
And in the middle of it all stood Celine, my beautiful, pregnant girlfriend, looking between us like she was watching a bomb tick down to
zero.