More, Please (Please Series Book 3)

by Willow Summers

  I smiled, stepping closer. Heat warmed between our bodies. I angled my face up as he looked down on me. His eyes trained on my lips. “Livy…” he said quietly, his breath brushing my face. His hands clutched my back, shaking a little. A small amount of fear wormed into his gaze, but it was drowned out by something else. Something I also felt, and longed to say. “I luu—”

  “Hunter, you bad boy!”

  Hunter jerked with Blaire’s voice, his head snapping up.

  She sauntered slowly toward us, her hips moving more than should be possible while still walking in a straight line. “It’s time for dinner. Didn’t you hear the bell?”

  Hunter dropped his hands, still standing close to me. “I didn’t.”

  Blaire stopped and turned, waiting for us to follow along. Her thin eyebrows lifted. “Well? Let’s go, silly! We don’t want to keep everyone waiting. It’s rude…”

  “Of course.” Hunter’s tone had dropped, coarse and expressionless. It was the voice he hid his emotions behind, showing the world a robot.

  His hand settled on the small of my back as he guided me forward, passing Blaire.

  “What? You’re not going to escort a lady into dinner?” she asked in a light tone hiding razor blades.

  Hunter’s body went rigid for a moment before he stopped. He put out his hand like a man might have done in an old western, waiting for her to take it. He moved his hand from my back and held out his arm the same way for me.

  “This still happens, huh? This leading women to dinner thing?” I mumbled, taking his arm.

  “Oh, Hunter, didn’t you school her about polite society before you brought her here with your mother’s closest friends?” Blaire laughed in a condescending way. “You have your work cut out for you there.”

  Little did she know, I’d seen Titanic twice. I knew the drill.

  We walked through the room and into the large dining room with crystal and china set out along the table. Two vacant seats were on the other side of the table, each with a little white card in front of it. A single space stood in front of us, the little white card reading “Blaire” in beautiful script.

  I heard Blaire tsk as Hunter left her in front of her place and continued around the table to the two open seats.

  “Sorry about that,” Hunter said as he pulled out the chair for me.

  “Not at all. If it’s good enough for the Titanic, it’s good enough for me.”

  He gave me a quizzical look.

  “They did that in the movie—leading ladies to dinner… Never mind.” I put my napkin in my lap as he sat beside me.

  As everyone settled down, servers poured wine and water. Trisha said, “Welcome, everyone, and thank you so much for coming!”

  Smiles and returned thanks murmured around the table. She continued, “As I’m sure you know, we have a new addition to our party. Please welcome Olivia. She has taken on the nearly impossible task of keeping my son in line.”

  Everyone laughed. The woman next to Hunter patted his forearm.

  “Lovely to meet you,” the man next to me said. He stuck out his large, callused hand. I’d noticed him earlier, as the stockiest person of the group, but it was now clear that his larger frame came from muscle rather than being padded with fat. “I’m Mike.”

  I shook his hand, noticing how rough it was, as though he’d worked outside all his life. “Hi.”

  “And what do you do?” Mike asked with a pleasant smile.

  “Oh, I work—”

  “Yes, Olivia.” The clear voice rang out for the whole table to hear. Blaire looked at me with malicious, sparkling eyes. “What do you do?” Blaire turned to the man next to her. “I’ve met Olivia before, but never had a chance to talk to her properly.”

  The man smiled politely and looked at me, giving me his undivided attention. In fact, the whole table had, apparently eager to get to know the new person. Swell.

  I swallowed nervously. Hunter’s hand came to rest on my thigh. “I work for Hunter, actually. That’s how I met him.”

  “And what is it you do for Hunter?” Blaire asked with a light but knowing tone.

  “I’m his assistant,” I said, feeling my stack of debt. These people had assistants; they weren’t assistants. I didn’t fit in, and I’d just admitted it.

  “Livy majored in Computer Engineering at Stanford and fell victim to the economy,” Hunter added in a nonchalant voice. Many of those at the table groaned and shifted, nodding in understanding. “She tried to refuse my job offer, but as you know, I’m a man who gets what he wants…”

  Mike laughed in a booming voice as a server slid a salad in front of him. “Still haven’t got hold of my company, young man! I’m holding out.”

  “Not yet, no,” Hunter said, leaning back so a server could place a salad in front of him. “But you’ll retire soon enough. I don’t have long to wait.”

  “Mike will never retire. He has his life in that company!” a man down the table added with a smile. “It’s like a kid, but it never rebels.”

  “Oh, it tried to rebel. The economy hit us pretty hard, too. We had to make some big cuts—running lean now. Not a lot of work coming through.” Mike picked up his fork as he looked at me. “I own a construction business. I built it from the ground up. Started out with nothing but blood, sweat, and tears, and now I get jobs from all across the nation. You have to start somewhere.”

  “Hear, hear.” The man down the table raised his glass.

  “Olivia doesn’t do traditional assistant work for me,” Hunter said as he put his glass down and picked up his fork, eyeing his salad. “She’s no good at it.”

  My mouth dropped open in disbelief as Trisha said, “Hunter! That is no way to talk about—”

  “I’m not saying that as a fault,” Hunter hastened to say, raising his hands to stop his mother’s rebuff. “But when you show her a spreadsheet, she forgets about lunch plans, meetings, plane tickets—all her focus is taken by that spreadsheet. Organizing schedules is not her strong suit, which works out well for me. I have a fantastic EA for those needs. With Olivia, I hand her tasks that might take a week if I passed them to the correct department. With her, I get them in a day. I’m spoiled.”

  “Code, not spreadsheets,” I muttered. Nobody noticed.

  “I was never any good at organizing, either,” Mike said in a kind voice, and winked at me.

  “She is working on a project with the owner of a company we are taking over,” Hunter continued in a strong voice. “They’re developing a game app.”

  “A game app?” Trisha inquired.

  “It’s a video game that’s meant to be played on your smart phone,” I clarified, picking at my salad. “The app will be free to download, but after a certain number of levels you’ll have to pay to continue.”

  “That’s where they get ya!” a woman with bright red lipstick said at the end of the table opposite Trisha. “I play a couple of puzzle games my daughter downloaded to my phone. They’re very addictive.”

  “What kind of game are you designing?” a woman with nearly white hair next to Hunter asked.

  “I’ve convinced him to make it a type of puzzle game with a war theme. Violent games do extremely well right now, so we’re going to start with that. If it does well, we’ll come out with another game that is more puzzle than war for those who like nonviolent games.”

  “Oh, I don’t like those shoot-’em-up games all the kids are playing.” The woman with red lipstick shook her head adamantly and reached for her wine.

  “When will you release?” Mike asked as Trisha and another couple people murmured about the shoot-’em-up games.

  “In about a month, I think. We’re nearly ready.” I smiled with the excitement I always felt when talking about the game. “We’ve worked really hard on it. You never know how it’ll do, of course. It could flop and then all that time would be wasted. But hopefully it won’t.”

  “It won’t flop,” the woman next to Hunter said with a reassuring smile.

&nb
sp; “Looks like you love that line of work.” Mike eyed me with a steady gaze. “Even if it doesn’t work for you, it’s a good hobby. You should always strive to do what you love.”

  “Since when do you love pushing a shovel around?” a graying man with a smile said.

  “I get a young buck to work the shovel. But there’s nothing like working in the outdoors. Or standing at the foot of a building that you helped build.” Mike put his fork on his half-empty plate and pushed it forward. A server came to clear it immediately. “I’ve always loved to build. To make things with my hands. What a wonderful thing to get to do what you love. Young Hunter here hasn’t realized that yet. But he will. Then he’ll really perform miracles.”

  “You’re incorrect. I do love what I do. I’ve always loved business,” Hunter said.

  “You love business, but you don’t love reporting to a committee of pompous, snooty types, isn’t that right?” Mike leaned forward so he could see Hunter around me.

  Hunter chewed, looking straight ahead. He didn’t respond.

  As if Hunter’s silence was answer enough, Mike nodded. To me, he said, “Hunter loves to build, too. He loves to take a company that’s faltering and make it into something slick and shiny. You know how I know this?”

  Mike looked around the table. All eyes were on him. “He came to buy out my company when it was in the worst shape. Mismanaged, tons of problems—hell, I didn’t know what I was doing. I’ll admit it. He saw the potential, saw what it would take to get it on the right track, and wanted to push up his sleeves and get to work. His sales pitch?” Mike’s gaze went around me to Hunter again. “‘Let me build your company the right way so you can build your dream.’ Well, he was talking about high rises. That was always my dream—build a grand high rise in a bustling city.”

  Mike leaned back and wiped his mouth. He gave a smile as he continued. “I wouldn’t sell. I was just about bankrupt, but it was my company. I wanted to see it through, right or wrong—I was a bit stubborn back then…” More than a few people snorted at that. “That was when I realized Hunter was more like his mother than his father. He helped me anyway. As a family friend, he rolled up his sleeves. He got into the trenches with me without ever asking what he would get in return. He gave me advice a young man shouldn’t know, not even with another twenty years’ experience. He showed me the right path, and he helped me stay on it. Still does, as a matter of fact. He owns a quarter of the company now, but if I’m honest, he should get credit for half.”

  “My advice wasn’t insightful, it was logic. You were just too busy with your hammers and nails to realize it,” Hunter said in a soft voice, laying down his fork on an almost empty plate.

  Mike scoffed. “Yeah, right. You don’t have to pretend to be humble in front of your girlfriend…”

  Hunter’s lips threatened a shy smile. He slipped his hand back onto my thigh.

  Mike watched the server deliver the next course before he said, “When he finally does get to build his dream company, watch out, world. That thing will take off.”

  “So when Olivia’s hard work takes off, Hunter can step in and build her an empire.” The woman with red lipstick smiled. “I miss the days of young love, when you had your whole lives ahead of you.”

  “What are you talking about—you still look sixteen!” the graying man said in a booming voice.

  “Oh!” The woman with the red lipstick touched her hair with a delighted smile. “Don’t I wish.”

  “I don’t. I was poor and clueless.” Mike laughed.

  Everyone laughed as the conversations broke up, people turning to talk to those closest. As I took a bite of my lamb, I noticed Blaire’s eyes on me, burning with hatred. Her plans to ostracize me from the group had failed.

  For a woman that liked to win, she didn’t do it very often…

  I’d probably see her wrath eventually, but right now, I just wanted to enjoy Hunter’s family and friends. He was opening up another little part of himself, and I was eager to become a part of it.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The rest of the dinner party went surprisingly well. Trisha’s friends were cordial and polite, easy to talk to and always friendly. They were never once snobby, and no one seemed to care about my background. Aside from Blaire constantly trying to be wherever Hunter was, and always trying to butt into his conversations, I had a great time.

  The next week went quickly, with a haze of work blending the days together. It turned out Bruce and I were a lot closer to launching the app than I’d originally thought. We had a few tweaks and some coding problems, but a beta test had actually gone out to a select group of computer geeks. They’d be harder on our game than normal people, but they’d also find ninety-nine percent of the bugs.

  This meant, of course, that Bruce was more hyped up and anxious than normal, sending me fixes and issues throughout the day. I took lunch breaks just to work on his notes. The moment I left Hunter, I was working for Bruce. It was brutal.

  When the next Saturday rolled around, I was in my home office with the stack of boxes, staring at the computer with puffy eyes. I entered the last few lines of code, tried to think of anything else I could possibly have to do, and then fell back in my chair with a huge sigh.

  “Finally!” I rubbed my tired eyes. That should keep Bruce off my back for a few days. Maybe.

  I checked the time. Hunter would probably be over soon. Hopefully.

  I thought back to his almost-admission from the week before. He had been going to say he loved me. It had to be. He hadn’t said anything since, but I often saw that emotion in his eyes. The emotion he’d had when he started to say the word. It was just a matter of time.

  I turned around and stared at the stack of boxes. What a pain. I hated unpacking. I wouldn’t even need most of the stuff. Janelle had stocked the flat pretty well.

  My gaze roamed over the various boxes, as I tried to figure out where to start, when it snagged on two boxes at the bottom. A chill passed up my spine as I stared at the word “bathroom” printed on the side.

  “Oh shit,” I whispered, getting up with wooden movements.

  My phone rang. I barely heard it.

  Like a zombie, I moved one box after the other, working down to that “bathroom” box. Once there, I ripped it open and rifled through it.

  It didn’t have what I was looking for.

  I found the next and did the same, pushing past some bath towels to find my little blue canvas bag. I took it out and stared at it.

  I had been a week without taking the pill. And not the sugar pill week, either, where your body and Aunt Flow battle, cramps make your life miserable, and you just wait for the end. No. The week after that.

  I’d had sex nearly every day. Unprotected.

  What the fuck had I been thinking?

  I never forgot the pill. Never! I was religious about it. Always had been. I’d never even had a scare before, I was that conscientious.

  Yet this last week it hadn’t crossed my mind once. Not once.

  I groaned.

  Hunter had trusted me. This was such a big deal, and Hunter had trusted me with it in a way he hadn’t trusted anyone else. But aside from that, what the fuck was I thinking?

  Hyperventilating, I walked out to the living room. Once there, I wiped my suddenly damp forehead and sat on the couch. My phone rang in my office again.

  I had to tell him. There was no way around that. We’d have to use condoms for the rest of the month, and he’d want to know why.

  My stomach churned. The good news was that I probably wasn’t pregnant yet. Ovulation happened more toward the middle of the cycle. I think.

  I got up and paced in the middle of the living room.

  He was supposed to be home in an hour or so and we were going shopping for God-knew-what. Naturally, I should just wait until he got home, admit my mistake, and assure him we were probably fine.

  Fear worked through my body and out through my limbs. I shook out my hands. He had every right to
be extremely pissed off about this. I had majorly screwed up. This wasn’t one of those situations where both parties were equally to blame; this was all down to me. I’d assumed responsibility, assured him I was trustworthy, and then been negligent.

  I started back to my office, thinking that working might distract me until Hunter got home. I could do some things for Hunter. Or go over that code again for Bruce. I didn’t have high hopes that it would work, but pacing in the middle of the floor wasn’t doing any good.

  As I passed the door, I heard the gate of the building clang. I froze. It could be anyone. Janelle often stopped by on her day off—maybe she’d forgotten something. Or maybe Mrs. Foster had…

  I watched the door handle turn before the door swung open. In stepped an incredibly handsome man with a tailored suit, loosened tie, and sexy bedroom eyes.

  “Why are you home so early?” I said in a hoarse voice.

  A crease formed between Hunter’s eyebrows. His expression turned into one of confusion as he closed the door behind him. “Are you okay?”

  “You’re home early,” I said again.

  “What’s the matter?” Hunter walked toward me, reaching out to brush his hands across my cheek when he neared.

  I flinched, fear clawing at me. Tears came to my eyes. “I fucked up, Hunter. I fucked up really bad.”

  “Hey.” He grabbed me, pulling me into his body. “What happened?”

  I pushed against him, struggling out of his grip. A terrified, angry tear rolled down my cheek. I wiped it away as my chin trembled. “I forgot to take the pill. All week I forgot. I’ve been without protection.”

  Fear welled up again, not just from what he might say or do, but from the uncertainty of what that just might mean. I was young, just starting out, and had no solid ties to the man in front of me. If he fired me, I would immediately go back to unemployed with a mountain of debt. How could I possibly raise a child, too? How could I afford it, much less grow up to nurture it? I could barely take care of myself!

  “It might be okay,” I said, mostly to myself. I wiped my tears with a trembling hand. “I don’t think I ovulate until the middle of the month. So if we use condoms now, I think we’ll be okay. We should. I’m pretty sure. I’m really sorry—there’s no excuse. I just…I have no idea how I forgot. I really don’t. I was looking for them two weeks ago, and meant to come back, and then it was my period week, so that was fine, and then, somehow…”