by Mara Lynne
“Ms. Mohr, Mr. Stone will meet you here in a while. If you need anything, please press number one.” Paul points to the cordless phone on the side table. “I’ll be on the other side of the line.”
“Thank you, Paul.”
He gives me a small smiles, steps back a few inches from the door, and gently shuts it close.
I immediately fall down the chaise and remove the shoes off my feet. There are security cameras in every corner of the office, but I don’t care if the security personnel sees me walking barefoot. It’s such a relief to stretch my legs and exercise them without those uncomfortable heels. I wish Hunter just bought me flats.
While thinking about the pain on my feet, I am suddenly reminded of the shoes I had prior to falling unconscious. I am sure I was in my sneakers. I wonder where Hunter might have hidden them.
While I examine the exquisiteness of the artifacts, which appear to be remains of an Egyptian stone tablet, I hear the door knob click. I thought it was Hunter, but when the door swings open, it was a woman in a black knee-length dress who came in.
Mary Etheridge.
Her face twitches at the sight of me.
I quickly gather myself, making sure I stand erect for Mary to think I am not too surprised by her presence when actually I am.
“Well, Ms. Grant.” Her hands clasp together. “Hunter is definitely taking this whole thing to another level.”
“It’s not what you think, Mary,” I say. I have to clear this issue once and for all. “Hunter and I—”
“There’s no need to deny, Ms. Grant. I think James and the family fully understand Hunter’s prime motivation for this.”
“Mrs. Etheridge, you have to know that I don’t intend to marry Hunter Stone.” I have finally given in to my conscience. The hell I care about all these pretensions and lies. It is not my fault that my patience for Mary’s baseless assumptions ran out because of her arrogance.
“Oh, so Hunter has brainwashed you?” Her conceited smile irks me to no end. “He probably made you believe that he loves you. You look so bothered and confused now. You must have fallen deeply for him.”
What is she talking about now?
She continues, “I feel sorry for you. Did he promise you wealth and assurance in exchange for your hand? The man is desperate for marriage. He will do anything for his father’s approval.” Mary marches toward Hunter’s desk, spins the swivel chair with a tap of her finger, and sits on it. She crosses her legs under the desk, intertwines her fingers on top of the table, and directs her disdainful glare at me.
“Of course, Hunter will not tell you. The man has a heart of stone—his name says so. He’s not capable of love.”
I am not after Hunter’s love. Hence, there’s no way I’ll be affected by Mary’s words. From the start, I swore to myself that everything between Hunter and me is purely business. Never in the almost seven months that I have known him did I dream of marrying him. Both of us know that what we share is total indifference with each other and nothing else. Even if Hunter’s reason for pursuing me is to secure his father’s approval, I still don’t give a damn. Whatever deeper cause he has does not interest me.
What I am greatly concerned about is my involvement in this charade. It is still not clear to me why Hunter is insistent on having me when he has a wide variety of options.
“Mary, if what you said is true, I must have been a great fool for letting Hunter think like that,” I say. “But I had known of Hunter’s incapacity for love long before you broke the news. It is no surprise to me that Hunter can do such a thing, to the point of misleading a woman into a relationship founded on a lie and promising her the world. He is the kind of man others might think of as heartless and evil, and though I subscribe to that opinion, I still prefer to listen to this man than to a woman whose words are spoken out of hate and envy. Sorry to break your bubble, Mary, but as much as I don’t believe in the empty words of men, I also don’t trust people who reek of jealousy. If Hunter is indeed guilty, he should break it to me and not you.”
She bites her lower lip out of contempt and wets her parched lips with her tongue.
“Why is Hunter’s marriage such a great deal for you, Mary?” I arch my brow as though challenging Mary Etheridge, whose face has now turned ashen pale.
How ironic can this woman get? She downright judges Hunter whose only fault on me is his undying but annoying perseverance, while his son, Damien, the spiteful coward, should be the one condemned for the pain he has caused me. If she only knows a thing about Damien’s offenses, I bet she will eat her words.
No man can match Damien’s guts to cause unbearable agony to a woman out of unfounded causes. Him running away just like that turns him into a clown in my eyes—a cowardly fool.
“Unless the marriage secures Hunter of something you want for yourself, I don’t think you’ll pay much attention to him. Why will you trouble yourself convincing me when you are not after something?” I say with all the sauciness I can muster.
She stomps her feet on the floor and gets up from her chair. Her face is devoid of joy. I might have hit her ego. Here lips are on a thin line, and her brows meet in the middle of her nose bridge.
“Hunter has taught you well.”
I nod.
“Such a cunning couple!” she exclaims with that unmistakably sarcastic laugh.
If letting Mary believe that Hunter and I are in a relationship will keep her blood boiling like this, I think I might as well enjoy the ride.
“Mary, if Hunter marries, it’s a given that you will be there. You will not be left out, so if I were you, I would prepare myself real hard. I heard disappointment stings,” I sharply counter.
She inhales heavily, and her pale face puffs up.
Quietly, she walks out of the office in long, heavy strides, her chin lifted way up high.
I don’t feel sorry at all for making Mary angry. I mean, she deserves to be mentally slapped for once in her life. She has been very critical of me, and her groundless accusations are becoming over-the-top.
Although I am not favoring Hunter, I feel like he's unfairly judged by a woman who thinks of herself as almighty and immaculate. How about she straighten her own son first before meddling in the affairs of others? His son has more issues to solve than Hunter Stone who only seeks his father’s approval.
Why don’t she babysit Damien Etheridge and keep the coward away from people he can easily con? Mary should be wary of him more than Hunter or anyone else!
Chapter 20: Catch 22
It doesn’t mean Hunter Stone is up for an excuse, though.
The man owes me more than an explanation. The constant infuriation he’s causing me can somehow be forgiven if he straightens his mind. He needs to make everything clear to me.
For heaven’s sake! He was going to use me, and for what? To what extent does he need his father’s approval? He is his son, why would he need confirmation of his worth? Unless he’s being treated unfairly… Then again, Hunter and the mayor seem to go really well. During the auction, they acted like civilized people. There was no evidence of even the slightest tension. Nonetheless, the entire time Hunter was interacting with his father, he appeared to be stiff. His face was forcing smiles specifically tailored for the cameras. Despite the mayor’s really affable smiles, there seemed to be this cold barrier between them.
Three knocks are heard on the door, and when the door slides open, I ready myself a possible revenge from Mary. However, it was not her who came in but Paul.
“Mr. Stone is waiting for you in the next room. Please follow me.”
“Paul!”
He creases his forehead as though giving me all his attention.
“Mary was here half an hour ago.”
“I am aware of that, Ms. Mohr.”
I approach him slowly.
“We slightly clashed,” I say.
“That is exactly the reason he’s going to talk with you now.”
But why in another room? I ask myself.
“Is the mayor with him?”
“Yes,” Paul answers with a brief nod.
If the mayor is with him in the next room, it is highly possible that Mary would be there as well. Perhaps, Mary ran to her husband and told him the biggest slur she could say against me.
I follow behind Paul anxiously.
The room is just a few steps from Hunter’s office. It’s connected to the same corridor I passed by a while ago.
“They are waiting for you now, Ms. Mohr.” Paul’s statement sounds so ominous. Mary and the mayor must be furious right now.
However, when I step into the room, I see no one except Hunter who’s got himself immersed on a phone call. When his brooding gaze catches me walking toward him, he puts his phone down without any hesitation.
I let out a huge ball of gas out of my chest after inspecting the room and making sure it was free of Mary.
“I believe that sigh is related to your recent standoff with Mary,” he says while pouring wine to a crystal goblet.
“Well, she thinks she’s high and mighty!” My arms cross over my chest.
“You’ll get used to it. Just don’t make a great deal out of her.” He sits calmly on the couch and crosses his legs, his eyes still on me over the brim of his wine glass. “Sometimes, pride is just a cover.”
“Clearly, you know the woman very well.”
He gestures for me to take the seat next to him, but I choose to remain standing. It’s not the time to be sitting around and have a friendly conversation. Hunters should explain to me everything. As soon as he realizes what I want, he quickly puts down his wine and paces toward me.
He is but a few inches from me when I flinch again.
“How can you demand the truth out of me when you can’t even look me in the eyes?” He’s looking down at me, and I feel that he is tempted to reach for my face and force me to look up to him.
“You telling me everything does not require me to do that. I am not compelled to follow your whims,” I say while hastily marching a few steps behind until I feel the back of the sofa hit my bum.
My heart lurches to my throat when Hunter closes in on me. I feel the need to cower, or else his skin will land on mine in no time. Unfortunately, he’s already surrounded me in all his masculine aura, leaving me with no time to escape. His arms corner me, wrapping around my waist until I feel his hand reach for my face from behind. I am lost to nothingness at the feel of his length on my body, and my words just fly away when he leans forward, closing up any space we had between us. In just one breath—a breath of anticipation and silent revolt—I find myself drifting into his kiss.
I lose all my strength to resist. My legs are falling apart. With his speed and impeccable power, I don’t think I can do much to stop Hunter Stone. He holds me so tightly and yet kisses me like I am a fragile porcelain doll. The touch of his lips on mine results to massive explosions in my chest and creates a twisting sensation in my stomach.
The heat worsens when his tongue demonstrates his expertise in the most unconventional fashion. I thought I was going to pass out.
When our lips separate, a moment of silence allows me to breathe properly and to alleviate the tempest that is inside.
My face burns, as well as my entire body, and I know Hunter can clearly see the effect he has on me.
With a slight brush of his thumb on my lower lip, Hunter murmurs. “There’s the truth you gravely want from me, Angel. The reason why it has to be you.”
He continues, “I will need you for a greater purpose, and not for amusement or pleasure, you see.” Then he steps back until he is an arm-length away from me. “For a person who grew out of wedlock and without a father, I can only wish for recognition and complete acceptance. There was no need for my father to provide me with other necessities, but there are areas in my life—the more important ones—that I find lacking, and I think it’s only him who can fill in the emptiness.”
“What do you mean exactly?” My voice shakes.
“I am selfish, Angel, and I will do anything to get whatever I want.”
I know that.
“My father is ill. It will not be long until somebody has to take over the family business.”
I get the point.
“And it has to be you? It just has to be you, right, Hunter?” Why does my voice sound sorrowful—cracking? Why does it feel like my heart is breaking? Why?
He nods.
“I am the first male-born Etheridge. Although I am illegitimate, I have all the right to claim what is mine.”
“Tell me then, how can I help you with that?”
“For my father to see me as responsible enough to manage an empire greater than what I have now, he must see that I am capable of forming a family… of finding a wife.”
Marriage? Such a funny thing how marriage still holds a huge hold on inheritance. I thought it only exists in the primeval ages when women are left with no voice and will to choose who their hearts want.
I force a smirk. “Sorry, I don’t think you’ve answered the question as to why your pretend wife has to be me?”
“You fit the bill just fine, Angel.”
“That’s not enough, Hunter.” I shake my head, attempting to erase the memory of his kiss. His touch has been running through my mind, and it is keeping me from thinking right.
“I need a woman who is as strong as you. Someone who will not give in to her womanly urges.”
“Such as?”
“I have been with women before. They seemed to be the right one for the job, but right in the middle of somewhere, they tend to break. They lost the precious opportunity because they gave in to love. In this job, Angel, I need someone who will not tell me one day how sorry she is to break the contract or worse, to expect more than what I can give. Unfortunately, I am not the generous type. I couldn’t give them what they want. I am not just into romance, Angel. I don’t love because I don’t believe in it.”
Finally, a tear erupts from the corner of my eye.
Shit! Why am I even crying?
“Now, tell me why it can’t be you. I know that you will not become one of those women. I am certain that you bear nothing but pure abhorrence against me and that will not develop into something perilous. You have shown me that.”
“Are you telling me that I am incapable of love?”
“No!” he replies immediately. “I didn’t say you can’t love, Angel. My point is, your hate towards me is my capital for the goal I want. I want a woman who I can negotiate with. Not someone who will cook for me or clean my house. It’s purely business between us. No attachment. No complexities. No nothing, just pure business.”
And he kissed me to check for the last time that I pass his criteria before he spills the truth? What does he think of me? A doll he can experiment with every time he feels the need for approval and assurance? And what did he make out of my reaction? I was petrified. I froze at the touch of skin on mine. I was disarmed, and still, he thinks I am someone who does not feel anything when kissed or touched? What am I to him—a robot?
My tears plummet down my cheeks, and my head screams for justice.
Without hesitation, and with total disgust toward the man, I slam my hand against his face. Hunter’s eyes widen with surprise, followed by controlled rage. His cheek reddens instantly.
“Hunter, I am no object for games, more so an instrument for your selfish plans!”
With no time to waste, I walk out of the room, my eyes set on the elevator at the end of the hallway. Paul drops his jaw when he sees me thumping my feet against the floor. People in their cubicles extend their heads to catch a glimpse of the woman who has the gall to walk out from their boss’ room.
I hate myself for shedding a tear. Why did I let Hunter see it drop from the edge of my eye? I don’t know what he could be thinking now because I, too, am entirely oblivious as to why I feel this strange misery after hearing him say he wanted me because he is one hundred percent sure I am not going to fall in love with h
im.
Sure, he is right that falling for a beast such as himself is beyond my thing, but it also brought me a different reaction. I am repulsed by this growing and threatening thought.
Maybe Hunter is wrong.
Maybe I was expecting something else—something more than a comment of how good a pretend wife I could become… something than a meaningless kiss.
It might just be pride, though.
Chapter 21: Adverse Effects
“What do you mean Paige withdrew? He was happy with the photos.” Peering over my glasses, I look up to Donnie who is standing just outside my cubicle. His arms are stretched at the wooden frame with his head popping out from the edges.
“I know. He seemed pretty content with the outcome. I don’t know what went wrong.”
I think I know.
Frowning upon the idea of who might be behind this propaganda, I stretch my legs under my desk and gather them a few seconds after to stand on my feet. I think I need to go to the lavatory and bury inside its solid wall my frustration over being involved with a man so selfish and evil.
Donnie trails behind me, saying something about Ross never ever going to sign a deal with new businesses like Beetz. The other day, all was good. Well, not until I slapped Hunter on the face. Now, everything has turned upside down again. If this is his way to get even with me, then, he’s actually doing me the favor of hating him more.
My legs freeze the moment my ears catch Donnie mentioning Colin’s name. Right! I almost forgot how Hunter beat the man to an inch of his life.
“What about Colin?”
“I heard his agents booked him a flight to New York right after he was discharged yesterday. Still a mystery on who beat the poor guy outside Calum’s.”
As for me, I think it’s good for Colin to be away. New Jersey is just not the right place for him this time. Hunter can always harm the man. To avoid such situation to ever occur again, it’s best for Colin to stay away from here—from me. There are far better things Hunter can take away from him; for instance, his job. I can never forgive myself if he loses the best job in the world per Ray’s opinion.