“Oh fuck off, she’s just as much a pain in my ass as he is—or as you are, you prick.”
“Really? Is that why you haven't mentioned him at all yet?”
“Whatever.” I run my hand through my hair and ignore the sudden flush of heat that runs through my body as I think of Emily in her tiny bikini and how her skin felt under my touch. I take a sip of the coffee, wanting to flush the thoughts away. “This tastes like shit.” I put my cup down.
Wolf laughs, “It’s always tasted this bad; you’ve been spoiled.”
I huff at him. He’s probably not wrong, it's not about the coffee anyway.
Wolf leans back into the couch, making it look too small for him. “So, tell me about Saturday night.”
It’s Saturday and I'm grumpy as hell. This morning I had to slink out of some random bed, not wanting to wake the stranger in it. I couldn’t remember her name, or what her skin tasted like the night before. Just another girl with a pretty face and a nice pair of tits. Forgettable.
My morning run did nothing for my mood. It's too hot and too humid, and Wolf’s words keep ringing in my ears.
I stare at my ceiling, a droplet of water drips from my wet hair and slithers down my back. I need to go but I can’t bring myself to move. Daryl is having an event tonight. One that’s actually been properly scheduled and planned. He’s hired a ballroom in the city and he’s invited the who's-who in the industry. Well, those who matter to him. Some kind of preempted celebration of his acceptance into the UK Music Hall of Fame.
I suck in a deep breath and stand, grabbing my keys and heading out the door.
The boys are hidden in plain sight as the guests arrive. Primed, perked and prettied beyond recognition. It never ceases to amaze me how much makeup and jewellery these people need to try and hide the fact they are just as ordinary as the rest of us.
I scan the room for the hundredth time. A ballroom in some fancy hotel. There’s a dance floor that will eventually be packed with sweaty people, whose makeup will run, hands will rummage around, and saliva will be exchanged. There’s a stage at the back where Daryl will be called up to accept his award. Made-up tables with golden painted cutlery surround the rest of the place. It's fancy but fake, much like most of the guests here tonight.
I keep my eyes on Daryl. I can see he’s uncomfortable. From the time I’ve spent with him, I know this isn’t his kind of thing, but he’s also not stupid. He understands the value of rubbing shoulders with the right people. It’s not just his talent that has gotten him this far, it's all about who you know and how many hands you're willing to shake.
My gaze flickers across the room and that’s when I spot her. She’s wearing a full-length black dress with a long slit up the right side that shows off most of her leg. Her hair has been made, pulled up into a classy bun with curled strands bounding off her back and shoulders, hiding the thin straps of her gown. The dress plunges in the back showing off her naked tanned skin. My fingers itch to run along her back and sink into her hair. She’s stunning. And I have a sudden desire to rip that dress off her and make her feel as beautiful as she is.
Rubbing my hands over my face I push the thought away as the music starts and some guy walks up to her. I recognise him as one of Daryl’s band members. The bassist. She gives him one of her shy smiles and nods before he takes her hand and leads her to the dance floor. I have a sudden desire to break every bone in his body. Why the fuck is she smiling at a sleaze bag like that?
I spot Wolf; he’s eyeing Emily and his gaze darts to mine before his face stretches into a smirk. I’ll be sure to wipe that off his face later, right now I can’t take my eyes off the bassist’s hand which keeps gliding lower and lower towards her ass. Bassists don't really need all of their fingers to play, do they?
Wolf comes over. “How is it looking?” I ask him.
“Quiet.” His gaze follows mine and he locks on Emily. He smirks, “Is that her then?”
“Who?”
“The PA?”
“Her name is Emily,” I grind out knowing he already knows who she is.
He chuckles, “That’s a yes then. I can see why.”
“Why what?”
“Why she’s so annoying.” He draws out the last word, and my fists clench by my sides aching to connect with his jaw.
I ignore Wolf and watch as the song ends and the bassist stands too close to her, pulling her into his body. He leans in and whispers in her ear. Her eyes are cast down, and she’s wearing that shy smile that makes my cock want to do stupid things to her mouth. Eventually, she shakes her head and pushes away and out of his touch. He looks disappointed and for some reason that makes me incredibly happy.
She looks up and for a second her eyes lock with mine then dart over to Wolf, who gives her one of his trademark smiles. He’s being a right dick and I wonder if he’ll take any threat about talking to Red seriously.
Daryl comes over and starts blathering on about the night. He’s surrounded by people but for some reason, he’s decided to talk to me. I smile and nod but I can’t hear anything at all as I track Emily.
Wolf has made his way over to her and they’re talking. She smiles then covers her mouth as she laughs and my blood runs hot. Their eyes flash over to me and they both laugh again. I’m going to kill Wolf and he knows it as he winks at me.
Daryl follows my gaze and lands on Emily. “Doesn’t she look great tonight?”
“Sure, Mr. Dark.” I nod and my eyes stay locked on Wolf and Emily.
“Is that one of your men?”
“Yes sir.”
“Well, he’s a big lad, isn't he? Handsome too. Is he single?”
I shift uncomfortably, wondering where he might be going with this, “No sir, he isn’t.”
“Pity, they would make a lovely couple. And see how happy he makes her? That's the most I’ve seen her smile in weeks.”
My stomach churns. Maybe she’d smile more if he didn't treat her like such shit. I grind my teeth and nod. Pity. Sure, if Wolf was single he’d do more damage to her than anything else. She needs to move away from him. Whatever they are talking about has her smiling and way too comfortable. Wolf catches my stare and grins. He’s a fucking dead man.
Daryl slaps me on the back, “Well thanks again, enjoy the night.” He’s talking to me like he forgets I’m not one of his guests before he turns and walks towards a table of producers.
I take the opportunity and march over to Wolf and Emily. I stare at him and he tips his head before leaving, his face set in a smirk. It needs a readjustment and I promise myself I'd deal with it later.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I glare at her and her smile vanishes. Fuck, why do I have that effect on her?
“I was having a conversation that you rudely interrupted.”
“With Wolf?”
“I can talk to whoever I want.”
“You can’t talk to him.”
“Why not? Afraid I’ll steal your man?” She throws in my face, and I scowl at her.
I sigh heavily, annoyed she’s still taking stupid shots at me. “He’s not my man, he’s my sister’s man, and he isn’t available.”
Her face turns a slight shade of red and her nostrils flare. I’ve obviously said the wrong thing. She opens her mouth to reply but my earpiece crackles to life. The boys outside need two extra bodies, as a few rowdy fans are trying to force their way inside. I spot Wolf already on the move across the room and without a word I turn and bolt towards the door, leaving Emily open-mouthed and furious.
When I get outside I’m greeted by a sea of people. I knew they were here when we snuck in through the back entrance, but it’s always confronting seeing so many bodies and listening to the insistent shrieks and cries. It’s a tumultuous sea and we’re the few lone boats trying to fight the waves.
I spot the two guys straight away. They keep trying to climb over the barricade. Rob and T.K. are keeping them at bay, but with their attention on those guys, a few others are trying to get by. Wolf
and I close the distance and I feel the crowd inhale with our presence. We have that effect on people. We extricate the two men from the line and hand them over to the policemen who are there to "oversee things." So far, all I see is them overseeing the female ass in the crowd. I can’t say I blame them. There’s so much skin on display, it’s like walking into a wet dream. But I’m itching to get back inside, where I’m meant to be. That’s where I do my job best. At least that’s what I keep telling myself as I take the steps two at a time towards the entrance.
“What’s the rush?” Wolf follows in my wake.
“They’re two men short inside.”
“No other reason?”
I swivel around and meet his smirking face. “Stop being such a dick and go do your job.”
He chuckles and tips his head towards the packed ballroom where the fucking bassist has his hands all over Emily again. “And who's doing your job?”
Heat simmers below my skin and I resume my post inside the ballroom. Wolf has no idea what he’s on about. The guests take their seats and clap as the MC gets onto the stage to introduce Daryl. Emily whispers something into the bassist’s ear and he nods. She gets her bag and I watch as he escorts her towards the door.
I’m on them in a few steps. “You’re leaving?”
“Yes.”
“There’s not enough security at the house, let me—”
“She’ll be fine mate.” The bassist intervenes and I grind my teeth, feeling like they might turn to dust.
“Emily—”
“I’m fine. You should do your job. Here.” She turns around and walks away, fuckface in her wake, a smug look on his face.
I want to kill everyone. Slowly.
The ceremony drags on and for some reason, I can’t stop looking at my watch. I keep half an eye on Daryl and his cronies. Nothing is happening here. Nothing that concerns me, even though it should. But all I can think about is Emily in that fucking dress and how that bassist ran his fingers on her exposed back and all the ways he must be fucking her right now.
My stomach tightens and I catch Wolf staring at me. He’s fucking smirking again. I need this night to end.
We’re the last to leave. Daryl wanted to thank everyone fucking personally. Shook hands, smiled slapped backs, kissed cheeks. He’s an asshole, but man he knows how to work a crowd when he needs to.
Tom drives the car back to the house like a blind grandmother protecting her cookies and I hold my tongue. If he drives any slower we would be going in reverse. My foot taps the floor of the car and my whole body is humming like I’ve swallowed a snake pit and they are all slithering and snapping inside me. I need to hit something.
Tom pulls up to the dark house and my stomach tightens thinking of Emily inside. I escort Daryl to the front door, my fists clenched by my sides.
“Want to come in for a nightcap?” he asks and suddenly I’m grateful for his loneliness.
“Sure.” We step inside and my gaze flickers to the stairs. The corridor beyond is dark. The house is silent. My stomach knots again.
Daryl strolls through the lounge and grabs a couple of tumblers, chucks some ice in each and pours us a gin. I hate the stuff, the strange lingering taste of juniper mixed with whatever the distiller had in his pantry that day. This one has a hint of lemon behind all the dryness. Daryl doesn't bother with the tonic and lets the entire shot slip down his throat before he grabs himself another. He holds out the bottle in offer and I shake my head. He shrugs.
“It was a great night tonight, wasn’t it?”
“Sure thing sir,” I say and think about the award he left behind in the back of the car.
“It wears off you know?”
“What does?”
He pours himself a third drink that looks like a double-double and takes a long sip. “All of it.”
“Sir?”
“The shine.”
I wait for him as he sighs heavily and falls onto the couch, nursing the bottle now.
“I used to love doing this, and I’m fucking good at it. Making music is like breathing, I’ll only stop when I die. I used to love everything that came with it.” He takes a long swig. “I mean fuck, I love the money and what it affords me—and the pussy. Fuck, I’ve had more pussy than most men will have in three lifetimes,” he chuckles but it’s an empty sound. “But here I am, sitting in my big fucking house, with my big fucking dick, talking to you.”
I don’t know what to say so I remain silent. My neck prickles and I'm way too aware that Emily is somewhere in this house and possibly being fucked by some slimy asshole. I shudder, my hands in tight balls by my sides, my nails digging into my palms.
“Don't go making deals with the devil mate, they leave you soulless.” He takes a long sip from his bottle. “The older you get, the more memories you live on; it's hard to make new ones, real ones—and the old ones all blur together into nothingness till you realise you're all fucking alone even when you’re surrounded by people. I loathe my own company.” He takes a long sip and sighs, sinking further into the couch, “There is too much silence and in my line of work, silence is death, and I can't fucking stand this overbearing solitude.”
He stares at the wall for a while, looking every bit his fifty-six years. The lines on his face seemingly deeper and the worry he carries with him etched clearly by the curve of his mouth and droopy eyes. I’m about to ask if he needs anything else before he opens his mouth again.
“I guess I didn't realise how much I'd miss the real shit—a real smile, a genuine hug. Something that's not false or forced, something that makes me feel like I'm still alive, like I still really matter beyond my fame and money and music. I want to be someone's whole fucking world again.”
I have no idea how to reply to that, so I stay silent staring at the ice in my glass. His eyes glaze over and he lifts them to me, “Go live a little, go make some noise.” He waves me away like I’m an annoying fly and takes another long sip from the bottle.
“Good night sir.” I put my untouched drink down and he doesn’t reply.
In the foyer, I look at the front door then stop. My gaze keeps being drawn to the stairs. Fuck it.
I take them two at a time and rush down the corridor till I find myself outside her door. Light seeps from beneath and I knock, my fist clenched and irritation sliding across my skin. When there’s no answer I knock a little louder.
The door cracks open and Emily’s face peeks out. “Hunter?”
I ignore her surprise and push forcefully on the door, driving Emily back before I take a step inside and scan the room. Her bed is empty save for an open laptop and her ruffled duvet.
“What the hell, Hunter?”
Her voice snaps me back to her and my eyes can’t help but rake down her body. She’s wearing a pink t-shirt that’s a few sizes too big. It dips over her naked left shoulder and hovers just above mid-thigh, her long bare legs on display. She’s removed her makeup; her hair is loose over her shoulders and she looks like a fucking dessert buffet—all sweet and fucking delicious.
“I asked what you were doing here.” Her eyes narrow and she storms past me and to her bed where she snatches a pair of shorts. I don’t want her putting them on.
I follow her and snatch the shorts from her hands, throwing them across the room. Her eyes grow wide, then narrow once more. “What the hell are you doing here? Get out!”
It's the third time she’s asked and I have no answer—no real one, not one I want to verbalise. What am I doing there? I know exactly what I'm doing in her room at two in the fucking morning. I’m pissed off. At her. And all the things she does even when I shouldn't be. “Just making sure the building is secure and you got home safe.”
She scoffs, “I’m not your client, Daryl is. I'm assuming he’s fine seeing as you’re here.”
I nod.
“Great, he’s fine, I’m fine, the building is secure. Now leave.” She folds her hands across her chest trying to look tough.
I take a step forward
instead, and she backs away from me. “I don’t work for you Emily; you need to remember that. Stop telling me how to do my job,” I growl.
I take another step and she backs away again, chewing on her bottom lip as she does. “Then leave.”
I nod and step forwards again, her back hits the wall, and I move into her space. My hands set on either side of her, caging her in.
“No.” I grind out through clenched teeth. I need her to know who she’s dealing with, to remember who I am and what I’m capable of. I will not be bossed around by a little elf who thinks she’s in charge, who thinks she can just come and go and jeopardise the security of this house. At least it’s what I keep telling myself.
“Get. Out.” She pushes against my chest, but I don't move. I scoff at her poor effort and grab her hands, pinning them above her head while the rest of me pushes against her, pinning her to the wall. We’ve been here before.
“Think you’re a big man holding down someone half your size?” she sneers at me, “Let go of me and see what I do to you, you coward.”
“Coward?” I growl at her, my eyes burning into hers as anger and heat flares inside of me. “You do realize what my job is, don’t you? Of course you do. After all, you keep telling me how to do it.”
“Being a punching bag or human shield doesn’t make you brave, it makes you stupid, especially if you don’t give a shit about the person you’re taking punches for,” she spits out.
“What do you know about it?”
“Bravery is allowing yourself to be vulnerable.”
“No, being vulnerable will get you hurt, or killed. Maybe you should stop talking about shit you know nothing about.” My hands dig into her wrists and she squirms against me. My cock feels every movement of her lithe body, and I bite the inside of my cheek.
She shakes her head like we’re talking about two different things and maybe we are. Either way, she’s being childish and ridiculous.
“You think you’re brave?” she growls at me, and her eyes remain locked on mine. They are full of fire and fury.
I release her and her hand comes up in a flurry, I grip it and push it down. Our bodies are an impulse apart, my eyes snap to her lips where she drags her teeth inward over her lip and inhales. The slight movement lights every synapse inside my body and still, all I do is study her. Her round eyes, her soft lips, her heaving chest. We’re locked in a checkmate and there are no moves left on the board.
Hunter (The Fractured Fairytale Series) Page 8