Page 12 of Accept Me (Fate’s Choice #4)

We were in this for life. Without an army of lawyers, there was no way to wriggle out of it. A marriage contract like this could be considered like legally selling your soul.

Would Hunter be my fall or my salvation? Theoretically, he could be a psycho. Like Dino. Dino took a few months to show his true face.

Sure, I had a contract now that was supposed to protect me. But could a piece of paper really shield me from more subtle abuse?

People had all kinds of sick kinks. I knew that better than most.

◆◆◆

We arrived around seven. It was still light out. The gate opened, and I noticed his house, but I kept quiet, trying not to show how curious I was.

A tall row of arborvitae lined the property. The building itself was stunning, modern, elegant, a seamless collage of geometric shapes, glass, metal, and wood. A contemporary luxury villa, straight out of a design magazine.

Hunter walked over to the car and opened the door for me. Another gentlemanly gesture.

When I got out, he took my small suitcase. Then he stepped back and gave me a subtle nod, signaling me to follow.

We circled around the house.

There was a fairly large backyard, though it wasn’t well maintained. It looked like it had once been designed in a minimalist, elegant style, but now the grass had overgrown between the stone tiles and along the garden borders, as if no one had bothered with upkeep.

I also noticed a sleek pool, the kind with built-in lighting that glows turquoise at night.

"As you can see, I’ve got a decent-sized yard and a big patio. You’re free to use the pool anytime. There’s also a gym in the basement. It’s all yours," Hunter said in a neutral tone.

We walked across a designer patio made of granite tiles toward the glass doors, which he opened using a keypad.

We stepped into a large living room that smoothly transitioned into an open kitchen on the other side. Huge windows dominated the space, with clean geometry, modern cabinetry, and designer furniture everywhere.

A faint sound reached my ears as I noticed a Roomba cleaning the floor nearby. Then I raised my head.

There it was again.

The scent of whiskey.

Stronger this time, like it had soaked into the air itself, not the fleeting trace of a freshly poured glass, but something more permanent.

I glanced at Hunter’s unmoving face. Was he drinking? There weren’t any alcoholics in my family, so I didn’t have a knee-jerk reaction the way someone with trauma might. But I won’t lie, it got to me a little.

If he drank regularly, was there a reason? Was it just a habit, or something deeper?

I hoped I’d find out soon.

For now, I kept scanning the room, taking everything in.

"This is the kitchen."

That was literally all Hunter said, and even the hand gesture that went with it was minimal.

"Here’s the downstairs bathroom," he added in the same flat tone.

He started heading up the stairs, clearly expecting me to follow.

There were several rooms on the second floor.

"This is my bedroom." A small gesture. "And that’s my office, where I work. This one’s yours."

He pointed stiffly at the door. So I’d be getting my own room? We weren’t going to share a bedroom?

We stepped inside. It was a nice, medium-sized room with a single bed, a desk with a laptop, and a couple of wardrobes. Everything had a clean, modern loft vibe.

I placed my suitcase next to the bed and set my own laptop on the edge of the mattress.

My gaze landed on a chest with a top-lid opening next to the bed.

I knew exactly what it was. These kinds of chests used to be popular back in the day, often given as wedding gifts from in-laws.

They were meant for nesting essentials. But I also knew the modern trend had recently brought them back, and some homes were starting to feature them again.

I didn’t dare open it with him watching, but I already knew what I’d find inside.

The thing was…

I didn’t nest. I had never built a nest, not even once.

Yeah, just another way I was different. I knew it was considered a serious issue, even a psychological disorder, but I had never bothered to look into it.

When I was going through puberty, I was in juvie.

My trauma after the assault took over every part of me.

Nesting just wasn’t something that made sense in that place.

The few omegas who tried usually got mocked or bullied for it.

So I blocked those instincts, shut them down completely, and they never came back.

Hunter stood silently, watching me with a neutral expression.

"Some things still aren’t fully set up, but I’ll take care of that tomorrow," he said vaguely, glancing at the chest.

I looked away, avoiding his eyes. I didn’t want to accidentally blurt out that the nesting chest would go unused.

But there was something else I couldn’t stop thinking about, something that had gnawed at my brain the entire ride here, like a worm inside an apple. I just had to ask.

Jaw tight, eyes on the floor, I forced the words out.

"So… our bedroom won’t be shared?"

"No."

Wow. Another one-word answer. Did that mean…? I had to be sure. I couldn’t let this linger and eat me alive later; I needed clarity. My heart picked up speed as I blurted out, "Do you expect me to… come to your bedroom tonight?"

I was too terrified to look up. I didn’t want to see his face, scared I’d find desire there, and also, weirdly, scared that I wouldn’t. My head was all over the place.

But then I heard, "For what purpose?" said Hunter in that same emotionless tone.

"For… contractual obligations."

"No. I don’t expect that."

Same monotone voice. I finally dared to look up.

A mask. His face showed nothing. He looked at me like he could’ve been looking at a wall.

I probably had a similar blank expression, but I was pretty sure mine still showed some tension.

His seemed completely calm.

And yet, somewhere deep underneath, in that strange second layer I could read in him, like a weird sixth sense, there was still that faint pulse of excitement . Maybe even… kindness?

What the hell was going on? Was I imagining things? Had the stress completely fried my brain? There’s no way anyone could just read another person’s hidden emotions, especially so contradictory. Not unless you were literally telepathic .

The silence stretched.

"Would you like to order something, or would you prefer to make dinner yourself?" Hunter asked.

I swallowed hard. I probably should’ve taken him up on the offer, considering how rattled I felt, but for some reason, one I couldn’t even explain, I chose the second option.

"I’ll cook."

"Are you sure? Wouldn’t you rather rest? I’m sure today wasn’t easy."

His words, taken at face value, showed a certain care for how I was feeling, but the way he said them was so lifeless, it was hard to react to them in any other way.

"No thanks. It’s fine. I’ll make dinner. Can you show me where everything is?"

He tilted his head slightly as he looked at me. I had the feeling he wanted to say more, maybe ask if I was really sure about this, but then he slowly looked away and said, "Alright."

We went down to the kitchen.

He showed me how to use his induction cooktop, where to find the cookware and ingredients. He used as few words as possible. Any fewer and he’d have to start using sign language.

Then, without adding anything more, he just… left the kitchen.

Wow. This guy was really something else.

Objectively speaking, everything about his behavior should’ve set off alarm bells. What could be hiding behind all that apathy? Maybe something dangerous?

And yet, there was still this completely irrational part of me that wasn’t scared of Hunter at all .

I washed my hands and got to work. I made a spinach, ham, and mozzarella frittata, plus a tomato and cucumber salad with vinaigrette.

When I finished, I set everything on the table, trying to make it all look nice.

Hunter appeared immediately. Was he watching me somehow? How else did he know the exact moment dinner was ready?

"All set," I said softly.

He looked at the table for a moment. One small expression slipped past his mask, a faint raise of the eyebrows, like something had surprised him.

"It looks delicious. And very professionally plated. Thank you, Star."

"Just a habit. I worked in this field for a couple of years."

"It shows. Thank you."

He sat down and started eating right away. But when he noticed I was still standing, he looked up at me.

"Please, join me."

I served myself the rest and sat beside him.

I could tell he genuinely liked it. He was eating like someone who hadn’t had good food in a long time… and maybe he hadn’t? At the fair, he’d mentioned he lived on pre-made meal plans.

When he finished, he wiped his mouth with a napkin and looked at me. His face was calm, but his tone sounded just a little warmer than before, though maybe I was imagining it again.

"Thank you, Star. That was delicious. I really appreciate it."

He stood up and loaded the dishes into the dishwasher.

Then he slowly turned around, drying his hands with a towel in precise, methodical movements. After a brief pause, he said,

"According to your contract, the house should be under surveillance.

As you can see, there are cameras here and here.

" He pointed them out. "There are also cameras in other parts of the house. I wanted to let you know that this part of the contract is being honored. I’ll give you admin rights to the server where the recordings are stored.

You can set it so the footage is saved in real time, and only you will have access. "

I felt a flicker of embarrassment but made sure not to show it. Keeping my tone as relaxed as possible, I said,

"I really appreciate that. I added that clause because of some bad experiences in my past. I’ve learned that a lot of omegas choose to do it too, even though it might seem controversial."

Hunter cut me off, his tone firm.