by Rosie Praks
“Arrggh, that’s not what I meant,” she said, frustrated. She could hear him just fine. How come he couldn’t hear her? So in resolution, she went to capture his neck and pulled him closer until his ear was just an inch from her mouth, and then she whispered, “Please stop making those shapes on my back. It’s uncomfortable.”
“Oh,” Hunter whispered, happy they were so close they could almost be melded as one.
While they were whispering back and forth to each other, Clinton Silverton was eyeing his son and taking note of the little beauty who had caught his attention. He turned to Winton. “Who’s that young lass?”
“Oh, that’s Miss Clarice Mason, the periodontist Master Anton asked to present her case on implants to our elderly clients here tomorrow.”
“Oh. So she’s a beauty and a brain,” Clinton said as he continued to watch as the little drama in front of him unfolded. “Take note, Winton. If my son shows any interest in that lass, I want a full investigation of her background.”
“Yes, sir,” Winton said.
“Good,” Clinton said and then turned back to his son with a fat grin on his face. Could this young lass be the one that could change his son’s way of life? He hoped so.
“Will you stop it? I said I’m uncomfortable. How many times do I have to tell you? And when will the song finish? I want to go back to my seat,” Clarice grumbled to herself when Hunter wouldn’t stop making the small circular shapes on her back.
“Missing Anton already?” Hunter asked playfully, his eyes twinkling as he watched his avocado making that sour face.
“Yes. At least he’s a better dancer than you,” she retorted.
“You…” Hunter couldn’t take it. His anger came back full swing. Why must she compare him to Anton all the time? What was so good about his cousin anyway? Apart from their age gap, he didn’t see how he could be any different. “I’ll have you know I can capture any woman and make her swoon if I want, unlike my cousin.”
“I doubt it. Some other woman maybe, but not this one,” Clarice said, challenging him.
“Is that a challenge?” Hunter eyed her.
“I’m always up for a challenge,” Clarice answered, looking up into Hunter’s azure eyes.
“Just be warned that once I attempt to make you swoon, don’t go blaming me.” Hunter warned Clarice.
“I won’t blame you,” Clarice said, smiling. What was Hunter going to do anyway? They were in a room full of people. But to her surprise, she almost went into shock because in the next second, she felt her neck captured by long, gentle fingers, imprisoning her in their embrace and then hot breath fanned the nape of her neck. Clarice sucked in her breath when she felt teeth, lips, and tongue, sucking, biting, and licking her soft skin. Clarice couldn’t do anything but stand still like a tree stump.
“What… what are you doing?” Clarice asked breathlessly.
I’m seducing you. “Not a word, Avocado. Didn’t you say you wanted to challenge me? Keep up the pretense and stay like this until Bublé finishes his song.”
A hundred, a thousand, no, a million bees were stinging her at that moment, all centered around that spot Hunter was busy sucking. He was seducing her… on the dance floor? How could he do this? Her knees felt weak. She felt like she was about to faint again. Dear heavens, please. When would the song finish? She really needed to get out of here. Her body was acting all out of sorts. She really needed to get out of here right now.
Dear God, please don’t let the song end just yet, Hunter prayed. He was enjoying his time immensely. He wanted to stay like this with Clarice in his arms throughout the night, just the two of them, dancing, embracing, and kissing each other while everyone else faded away in the background.
But sadly, the song ended all too soon, and before he could blink an eye, Clarice disappeared from his arms and was already across to the other side of the hall, then was lost in the large crowd.
Hunter went into the swallowing crowd too and was lost in the midst of chaos on all sides, his eyes flickering in all directions, trying to locate that white gown, but to no avail.
Hunter growled and made his way to sulk by himself. He found a nice spot where no one could interrupt him. A nice spot near the side of the stage where there was a curtain hanging obscuring him from anyone who would want to annoy him. Grabbing a glass of red wine from the waiter, he made his way to his destination.
He thought he could stay in peace, but it was only an illusion because not three seconds passed before someone came to stand beside him.
“Hello, Hunter.”
Hunter turned to see Caroline and gave out an annoyed huff.
“What are you doing here, Caroline?” Hunter asked, not so nicely.
“That’s not a nice way to talk to the heir of Bass Enterprises. My father does have a large share of the current business with your father. He might not like it when his daughter is spoken to like that.”
“I don’t give a damn what your father thinks,” Hunter said, gripping his wine glass in anger.
“Dance with me, Hunter.” Caroline changed the subject when she realized Hunter was in no mood to play.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I’m not interested,” Hunter said, his eyes like radar, still searching for that white gown. “Go ask Anton.”
“But I want to dance with you.”
“But I don’t want to dance with you,” Hunter spit. “So go.”
How dare Hunter speak to her like that? Caroline fumed. “Are you interested in that old fruit?” she asked.
“Huh?” Hunter turned to Caroline then, giving her his full attention. “Who are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about that girl you called Avocado.”
“Clarice?”
“Yes, Clarice.”
“What about her?”
“You like her, don’t you?”
“Psh! None of your business,” Hunter said, turning back to the crowd, his eyes still scanning.
“You should give up already,” Caroline said, pretending to be kind by offering her advice. “She already likes Anton. I can tell.”
Hunter jerked his head to Caroline again and fire burst from his azure eyes. “Why would you say that?”
“Because she’s walking toward him right now with a determined look on her face.”
Hunter’s head snapped back to the crowd and sure enough, he saw Clarice walking toward Anton with a fierce determined look on her face.
Oh shit. She’s going to confess. And this time, there was no backing down. Hunter still held his wine glass in his hand. He had to do something. Shit, he had to think of something fast. Otherwise, everything would turn into custard. From this distance, it was too far to stop them.
Hunter scanned around the hall quickly, trying to find anything at all to distract Clarice from confessing to Anton. Then he saw the microphone standing on the stand on stage and an idea brewed inside his head. Handing Caroline his wine glass, he told her to stay put and climbed up on stage. Caroline was so surprised by Hunter’s action that she just stared blankly at him in confusion.
Up on stage, Hunter could see Clarice was just a few meters from Anton. Any minute now and she would confess. He hadn’t enough time to stop them. He needed to do something fast. Then he picked up the microphone.
Clarice walked toward Anton with a determined stride and only one purpose: to confess and then go home. She’d had enough of today. If she didn’t escape, she could guarantee she would faint into Hunter’s arms. Yes, she must get away from him, stop him from distracting her so she could make her confession and then leave. Except she didn’t know Hunter was standing right behind her onstage, holding on to the microphone awkwardly, staring at her making her way toward his cousin.
As Clarice neared Anton, she saw him talking to Fern. She really didn’t want to interrupt them. She had a strong feeling Anton liked Fern, but she had to tell him, just to get the guilt out of her system. So she tapped him on the shoulder, makin
g Anton and Fern turn around. Without allowing Anton and Fern to greet her, she spoke, “Anton, I have—”
“You can’t, Clarice!”
Clarice froze, hearing Hunter’s shout, the sound of his voice through the microphone echoing around the main hall.
Shit, what have I done? Hunter thought. He’d just literally shouted out without thinking when he saw Clarice was about to confess to Anton. And now he’d alerted the entire audience who were now standing still, staring at the heir of Silverton Enterprises, who was standing up on stage, holding the microphone like he had a special announcement to make.
Hunter was sweating. The eyes of everyone down below gazed up at him. But his only focus was on Clarice as she turned to him, staring with a confused expression on her face. He felt his forehead dotted with perspiration and his hands felt like they’d been dipped in a jar of water. The microphone kept slipping from his hands.
“You can’t, Clarice,” Hunter repeated, his eyes still zoomed onto Clarice, not caring and not seeing the sea of faces that continued to stare in his direction, waiting and watching for the event to unfold before them. The many faces that included Anton, who was thinking at that moment just what was his young cousin was up to now. Fern was smiling because she knew what was about to happen, Clinton was in shock, as he had never seen his son act like this before, and Caroline fisted her hands so tightly by her sides, afraid of what Hunter was about to say.
“Don’t,” Hunter spoke again. God help him. He felt awkward standing onstage like this, but there was no way around it. He needed to stop Clarice’s confession; otherwise, Anton would get her.
Clarice was confused. She turned away from Anton and started advancing toward the stage until she stood just at the edge, staring up at him from below.
“Don’t confess to Anton,” he said, looking down at her, only seeing her.
“Why?” Clarice asked.
“Because… because…” His hands trembled and his voice shook.
“Because?” Clarice worded silently, her heart pounding in her ribcage. And then it hit her. Oh God! Oh God! Hunter knew.
“Because…”
Hunter could feel his throat going dry and the microphone slipping from his grasp again. But he had to confess. He had to do it now. He had to say it now.
“Because I want to sleep with you again.”
Chapter 31
Because I want to sleep with you again.
That sentence replayed itself inside her head like a litany, not stopping, swimming around and around, repeating itself over and over again and again, until she couldn’t hear anything else. Because I want to sleep with you again.
What did it mean? What did Hunter mean by saying that? She’d never slept with him. In Queenstown that night, she’d slept with Anton. Even Max had told her. He’d concocted that plan so she could get Anton’s sperm. So why did Hunter say he wanted to sleep with her again? It was dark that night, she admitted. Even she couldn’t tell whom she was with. Unless… unless it was…
No! No! No! Clarice shook her head as reality finally dawned on her. She glanced up to look into Hunter’s eyes. The once bright azure irises that usually twinkled with mischief were nothing now but a dark, dormant blue. Hunter was serious. He wasn’t lying. So all this time… He knew all along. And Max? Her sweet little cousin…
Suddenly, two very strong emotions washed over her. Two very different feelings struggling to erupt. Arrrghhhhhh. Clarice wanted to growl. On one side, she wanted to run outside and squeal in joy, so happy and overjoyed that the man she’d been dreaming and fantasizing about kissing was actually the father of her child. But, oh hell, on the other side, she just wanted to run up onstage and punch Hunter’s face with her fist. So all this time she was just a plaything for both of them? She was just one of his women? She felt betrayed, a little hurt, but most of all, so pissed off.
She bit her lips in anger at the sudden turn of events, making those glossy pink lips of hers blossom into a ruby color, which didn’t escape Hunter’s gaze. She was fighting with herself, with her internal emotions, but before she could get her act together and decide on which emotion she should express, Hunter got to her.
It didn’t matter anymore. Her brain had totally lost its function because Hunter captured her face within his hands and smashed his lips onto hers.
She was completely lost, just like she was lost all the other times Hunter had kissed her. They were both in their own world. Nothing else existed but the touch and feel of their lips attached to each other, feeding off each other’s hunger and desire, oblivious to the sounds and flashes of the camera clicking around them.
Dear heavens, Hunter was delicious. The sweet honey-flavored, sugar-coated lips, so wonderfully delicious that she thought she might no longer need sugar in her diet ever again. Just having Hunter kiss her like this was enough.
She wrapped her arms around his neck to steady herself because her knees suddenly felt so weak.
“Clarice…” Hunter’s voice shook again when he pulled her back to inspect her crystal eyes once he’d had enough of her delicious scent. God, he was overcome with so much emotion that he choked as he was trying to confess to her. This was it. He must explain everything now. “Clarice, I really want to—”
Clarice shook her head. She couldn’t breathe. Hunter, Hunter was confessing to her again. He really was the one that had slept with her. She wanted to yell at him, she wanted to hit him, but at that very moment, what she wanted more than anything was for him to kiss her again. It was so addictive, too addictive, like a drug she found hard to quit. So she shook her head, so confused with her own conflicting emotions. And when she couldn’t contain her feelings and desire anymore and was about to move her lips forward to touch and taste his again, she felt her body being pulled away by none other than Caroline, whose hand landed smack on her cheek.
Clarice stared in shock, blinking at Caroline, whose devil’s behavior had now been displayed for the whole world to see.
Everything happening in the next moments was like a domino effect. When Hunter saw Caroline slapping Clarice, he was so startled by her behavior that he blocked Caroline’s next lash and shouted at her, telling her to lay off his goddess. Caroline was so surprised and intimidated by his protective behavior toward Clarice that she stepped backward in fright and ended up tripping over Winton, who was standing there staring at the commotion in front of him, thinking that once again the licorice he’d chosen as his muse to lose those extra pounds had now been taken by another Silverton offspring. And poor Winton, through that transfer of energy, ended up colliding with the table, which came crashing down on him, making all the small cupcakes to fly and land on the founder of Silverton Enterprise’s chubby cheek. Clinton, who had a soft spot for sweets, ended up licking the creamy icing on his face, and by God, he was totally lost to the world of sweet confectionary and now totally oblivious to the chaos happening in front of his eyes.
And so the once quiet and melodic scene of the pre-conference ball had somehow been transformed into total chaos. And by this time, it was in full swing, as Fern came over and exacted her vengeance on behalf of her friends by slapping Caroline on her cheek too. Before anyone knew what was happening, both women were tangled together, hands flying and pulling hair.
The rest of the guests were so intrigued with the change of events that they ended up forming a large circle around them, watching like they were two hens fighting for the rooster. They sounded more like two cats screeching, meowing, and scratching their claws on a chalkboard.
“What happened?” one of the old cronies on the sidelines asked Anton, who was about to enter the fight too, to protect Fern.
“It’s young Hunter,” one of the other old associates answered him instead.
“Did he say something about my sheep?” one of the crows asked again.
“No. Young Hunter said he wants to sleep,” the other replied.
“What? He wants to sleep with my sheep?” he asked again for clarification.
Anton shook his head. Good God, talking to these old loons would take a century, so he flung away everything and jumped into the fight too, wanting to protect Fern. Except he wasn’t fast enough and ended up being slapped in the face by Fern instead, as she was in a rage, trying to get to Caroline.
“Anton!” Fern gaped in horror as she realized who had received her wrath. “I’m sorry.” And then she turned back to Caroline and sent her another mind-twisting slap. “That is for making me slap Anton.”
Caroline only smiled a malicious snarl as she happily returned the favor by pulling on Fern’s red ringlets. Fern yelled as loud as a banshee on drugs.
By this stage, Hunter was like a bull charged with so much energy, protecting Clarice and Fern. God, this woman is a she-devil in disguise, gone mad like a patient who has escaped from a mental hospital, Hunter thought as he held Caroline’s arms, restraining her so she couldn’t slap Fern.
There were madness, cries, and cheers in the atmosphere. The madness came from Fern and Caroline, the cries came from Anton and Hunter as they both held the two girls back as the girls struggled to slap each other’s cheeks again, while Clarice was still stuck in her dreamland. As for the cheers, that came from the many reporters who were smiling with fat grins on their faces, busy clicking away on their cameras, happily thinking about the heavy pockets they would be receiving once they sold their shots to their publishers. This news would definitely be on the feature page by tomorrow morning.
Senior Clinton Silverton could only comment on how delicious the icing was and was busy licking away the cream on his face, still oblivious to his chaotic surroundings, until Winton came crawling from underneath the broken table on all fours and tugging his boss’s trousers to get his attention.
“Master Silverton,” Winton said. “Stop the fight.”
“Ah, all right.” Clinton blinked away from his sweet treat and stared at his surroundings. Only now did he register the exact damage. “I got a bit sidetracked there with this sweet.” Then he turned to Winton again. “Tell me, Winton, who made them? They’re delicious.”