Page 13

Chapter thirteen

Hunter Devane’s Mansion

Isabella

Hunter pulls his knife as he pins poor Jaxon to the floor. The tip of the blade sits at the base of his throat. I scramble to my feet, my eyes frantically darting around the room for something to stop the madness. Jaxon attempts to curl his body into a ball in self-defense, his muscular frame unable to contract as Hunter places a knee on his abdomen. To look at, Jaxon is twice the size of my husband, with muscles bugling beneath the little material he wears. But his physical strength is no competition for the insanity in Hunter’s eyes—a man possessed to get revenge.

“Hunter,” I snarl, marching forward and grabbing a strand of his loose hair. He ignores me and presses down harder on Jaxon’s stomach. I pull harder, but it makes no difference. His victim gasps as air is expended from his body by force. Hunter moves the blade upward, running the flat side across the other man’s cheek in a slow, deadly movement. “Hunter, stop being fucking ridiculous and let him go.”

My husband pauses, not a muscle in his body moving as my words hit his ears. Everyone is completely silent as we all wait for what will happen next.

Ronan appears in the doorway. He looks from me to the men on the floor, then back to me for some sort of instruction. I wave him away, not needing another testosterone-filled male in the room to make matters worse.

“Hunter.” I try for a third time, crouching down to his level. I place my hand over his on the knife, then slide it beneath to take hold of the weapon. He doesn’t try to stop me but maintains a grip on my hand. We’re caught in a fraught game of calling each other’s bluff. “Give me the knife. Jaxon wasn’t doing what you thought he was.”

“He was touching you,” he mutters, his voice a mix of confusion, anger, and fear. “His hands were on your skin.”

“He was helping me stretch after my workout,” I correct him as he releases the knife. Jaxon scrambles backward across the floor, as far from the enraged idiot as he can. He clambers upright, grabs his belongings, and runs out of the room without a backward glance. Hunter doesn’t even notice his departure, lost within himself.

Well, that will be the last fucking time I see him. It took me ages to get a trainer I liked.

“He was touching you, Bella.” Hunter sits back on his heels, as do I. We face each other, and the terror in his expression makes my heart ache a little. He has so much emotion that he doesn’t know what to do with and can’t control. “And no one touches what’s mine.”

“I’m not yours.”

The phrase is simple enough, but there’s no mistaking the flicker of pain in his eyes. I sigh softly, annoyed with myself for allowing our few hours together at the restaurant to cloud what this is for either of us. I want to leave London, and Hunter is in no state to have a relationship, never mind marriage. My walls need to go up and stay there for both our sakes.

“Yes. You. Are,” he begins to argue. I raise myself up on my knees, leaning forward and placing my lips on his forehead. When I withdraw, his eyes are closed, and what I think is a tear sits on the corner of one eye. My childish love for him wars with my adult sense, the romantic fairytale I once craved rearing its head unhelpfully. This man is not good for me, and the life he stands for is not what I need. Stick to the plan, Isabella. He’s not a knight in shining armor. He’s a murderer in an Armani suit.

“No buts,” I tell him. “This won’t work. What we had ended on our wedding night. A few hours of romance won’t change what happened back then, and we shouldn’t try. Everything happens for a reason.”

“Save your cliches. Neither of us believe that.”

After pushing myself to my feet, I place his knife on the table beside the sofa. Jaxon and I had pushed them back against the walls so I could work out this morning. Hunter doesn’t look at me. He stares at the rug beneath him as if transfixed by the monochromatic pattern. Brooding unhealthily in his darkness, he sits entirely still like a lion waiting to strike.

“I’ll see you later,” I say, walking toward the doorway. When I reach it, I turn and look back at the broken man still sitting on the floor. It takes every ounce of my willpower not to run over and console him. Not to ask what happened at the police station and if he is all right. Not to be the woman I want to be for him, one he doesn't need. “Tell me when you need me to attend another public event.” There is no need for me to wait for his response; what needs to be said has been, and the line is drawn. This is business.

I retreat to my room, the upset of the past twenty minutes hitting me hard as I throw myself onto the bed and sob. In a matter of days, I have allowed my broken heart from decades ago to rule my head. It’s a situation I promised myself not to fall into when I took Hunter up on his offer of this charade in return for my freedom.

There’s a soft knock at the door, then it opens slowly. The person behind it is uncertain whether to enter or not. Kasia steps into my bedroom dressed for work, her fresh face filled with concern. I’m immediately relieved not to see my husband. I can’t face another conversation with him today. My heart may shatter. My resolve will break. There’s no denying he wants to try; he has made that clear.

“Miss,” she exclaims, running over and crouching beside my tear-stained face. “Are you hurt? Whatever happened? Should I call Ronan? Mr. Devane?”

“No, Kasia,” I say, squeezing her offered hands. “I’m fine. It’s just taking a little time to settle into our new situation.”

She sits on the bed beside me as I lie on my front. Her fingers trail up and down my spine in comfort—an intimate gesture for a staff member to give their employer, but much appreciated. Only now do I appreciate how truly alone I am in this world. I have no one who doesn’t work for me.

“I understand, Miss. When I left home to find work, there were plenty of situations I found myself in that made me question my future.” She pauses, allowing the ambiguous statement to sit unfinished. “But we are where we are and must do what we need to for ourselves.”

Kasia is younger than me. She’s a woman sent abroad to earn for her family who lives back in her home country. Even though she’s only been with me a short while, I enjoy her company. Kasia has the ability to look controlled in all situations I’ve seen her in so far, and I envy that quality. My emotions tend to lead the way, sometimes to my detriment.

“That is true,” I agree with a chuckle. “You’re very wise, Kasia.”

“I am not sure wise is the correct word, but I appreciate your compliment.”

Her touch disappears from my back as she stands, then wipes her hands on her black skirt.

“If you need anything, Miss Isabella, I will be downstairs.”

“Thank you, Kasia. Please do ensure you take time off as needed; you work far beyond your hours.” She smiles brightly, then gives me an unexpected curtsy.

“Would it be possible for me to take Friday off, Miss?” she asks. “I have a few…” Before she can finish her explanation, I raise my hand.

“Of course. You don’t need to explain to me where you go in your free time.”

“Thank you,” she says with a nod. I watch as she leaves my bedroom, off in search of some work to do, no doubt.

Since we arrived at Hunter’s home, I swear Kasia has become even more productive. Each time I’ve wandered around this expansive house, I have found her cleaning a different room. She certainly knows how to keep herself busy.

***

Hunter hasn’t been home for a few days. When I asked Ronan where he was, he shrugged and told me he had work issues to fix. My phone has remained silent, with not even a message from him.

Our altercation over my trainer was upsetting, but his silence makes me mad. As he requested, I moved into this house, only to be abandoned at our first hurdle. Two can play that game; I won’t be contacting him.

Since moving, my online presence has all but died. I haven’t found a private location on the property where I can film my content that wouldn’t be easy to identify. The loss of my community breaks my heart, and people are starting to ask where I’ve gone. Things are falling apart and need to be fixed soon.

It doesn’t matter how often I explain in the comments that content creation isn’t possible for me at the moment. I get more and more requests for something new. I’ve exhausted every repost and flashback I can. For my plan to work, my business needs to continue, and to do that I must dance. There has to be a solution.

After packing my signature outfit, smartphone, and tripod in a backpack, I head downstairs in search of Ronan. He’s reading a newspaper in the front hallway and looks up as I enter. The paper falls to his knees as he sees me striding toward him, my bag over my shoulder.

“I need to go out,” I tell him. He immediately stands to ready himself to leave too. Other men are wandering around today. There are more than usual. It’s as if a buzz of impending business is in the air.

“I’ll tell Mr. Devane,” he says, walking toward Hunter’s office. Immediately, I’m furious that he’s here in the house and hasn’t fucking bothered to tell me. He reappeared as if from nothing, then scuttled off to hide rather than face me after our incident a few days ago.

“Don’t,” I snap at Ronan’s back. He turns to face me, badly hidden amusement all over his face. “Hunter doesn’t need to be notified.”

“Mr. Devane has requested a constant awareness of your whereabouts. I'm under orders.”

“I don’t care. Mr. Devane hasn’t been here for three days.” I straighten my shoulders, pushing out my tits as far as I can in fake confidence. “You’re my staff member, Ronan. You take instructions from me.”

“No, Bella.” Hunter steps into the room as all the air is sucked out. “Ronan works for me. He always has. When I ask for a report on your whereabouts, I expect one. It’s either that or…” He trails off, his lips splitting into the most amazing grin. Bright white teeth appear, and my subconscious automatically pictures them sinking into my skin, a dirty image of us locked in a passionate embrace as he devours every inch of me he can.

“Or what?” I snap, agitated once again at how his appearance without notice flusters me. I hate and love that we are here together once more.

“I’ll put a tracker in you.” He walks forward. Ronan bristles as he comes closer, but my guard doesn’t move. Hunter stands barely a foot away. His suit is pressed to perfection, his shirt a crisp white. I breathe deeply, trying to contain the combination of fury and lust he creates within me. My body and brain are in a death lock of desire.

“I’ll remove it.” My focus remains fixed on him, not wanting to break the connection no matter how uncomfortable I am. Looking at this man causes the most delicious pain in every part of me, the man I want but won’t have. He leans down, and I will my eyes to stay open.

“Not if it’s lodged under your skin. I said in you, not on you,” he warns. Ronan stands, and Hunter raises his hand, bringing the man to an immediate stop without sparing him a glance. “One more step, and you’ll be on the street.” My protector sits back down.

“You wouldn’t dare,” I hiss, losing control but unable to leave. “I’m not yours, Hunter. Not yours to keep or control.”

“Try me. I’m not one to take no when me heart’s on the line.” His eyes darken as he stares at my face, the Irish accent that appears when he’s mad strong. They skim every inch as if burning each detail to memory. He raises an eyebrow, a clear sign he’s goading me for a response. “You’re beautiful when you’re mad, Bella. All that passion has to go somewhere.” His hand lifts, pinching my chin between strong fingers. He dips as if to kiss me, but our lips don’t connect.

“I’m going out,” I tell him, spinning away and storming toward the door. “Ronan, we’re leaving.” When I reach the exit, I turn to find him still sitting like a fucking dog. Hunter nods to him, and Ronan moves to join me.

“Don’t go far, Bella,” Hunter calls as we walk away. “I want to talk later. I have something to show you.”

“I’m not bloody interested. Whatever it is, stick it up your ass.”