Page 21

Chapter twenty-one

New Bond St, London

Isabella

Hunter appeared back at the house an hour ago. He was a little later than he said he would be, and I’d been pacing up and down the hallway waiting for him. Ronan was sitting on one of the decorative armchairs reading a magazine, waiting to accompany us.

When Hunter walked in, I ran across the hall and jumped straight into his arms. He’d spun me around like you see in romance movies before dropping a kiss on my lips. We both beamed at one another. Just being in each other’s company made us so damn happy, I could burst with joy from a look.

“Now, that is the welcome home I want every day,” he said, as I wrapped my arms around his neck. We kissed again, this time a little slower, savoring each morsel. With our focus only on each other, we completely forgot about Ronan sitting patiently to the side. “Where would my wife like to go today?”

Since our reunion a few weeks ago, Hunter has used the word "wife" more often than I can count. It sounds better every damn time. It seems insane that after having been married for twenty years, there’s a new buzz from his acknowledgment of my place in his life. We’ve both basked in the romance and newness of our relationship. It’s as if a redo has occurred and we are back in our youth, full of excitement.

“I was thinking of New Bond Street,” I suggested.

“Whatever you wish. I am at your total disposal for the whole day. My out-of-office is officially on.” He had taken his phone out of his pocket then, and switched it off. “I do love the fact my wife has taste when selecting where we shop.”

“Perfect,” I gushed, delighted that his full attention would be on me for the day.

Even though our relationship has progressed well over the weeks, and we spend every night in his room, Hunter is still an extremely busy man, and I know lots of people pull him in all directions. Even this morning, his meeting wasn’t planned. He disappeared before the sun was up.

“I plan to drag you around every store today. My shopping list is long,” I warned him.

He gathered me closer, our bodies pressed hard against one another. His hands slid down my back then came to rest cupping my ass. He flexed his fingers, pushing my pussy upwards against him. Our height difference meant I felt him harden against my stomach.

“Perhaps I could suggest something more active,” he whispered in my ear, his warm breath tickling my skin. My cheeks heated with the open suggestion in front of Ronan, who was pretending to be completely focused on what he was reading. But with a glance, I saw his mouth twisted into an amused smile. He knew fine. “You are the only item on my ‘to-do’ list today, Bella.”

“We have presents to buy,” I told him.

“And I have twenty years of not having you to make up for.”

“Come on,” I said, grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the door. “Maybe if you’re good, you’ll get some attention later.” He released me, then stepped backward and raised his hand to his forehead, saluting. His face was bright with a goofy smile. In the moment, he looked almost ordinary.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “Good-boy mode is activated.”

That made me laugh. The thought that Hunter could consider himself a good boy at all was funny.

Now, we are standing in the center of London’s most affluent shopping street as people dart around us looking for the perfect gifts for their loved ones. We wander from shop to shop with no real agenda. The list of gifts I require for friends and family is stuffed in my pocket, unused. It doesn’t seem important now we are here. I only want to spend time with him. Hunter follows my lead, his eyes never leaving me as I look at the options.

We find a delightful little gift shop snuggled away in the furthest corner of the street. I spend ten minutes admiring the candles and trinkets sparkling under the stark light, rows and rows of objects with no particular purpose lined up temptingly. I’m in my element, surrounded by glitter, holding the hand of the man I love.

“What do you want?” Hunter asks, picking up a small box covered in mosaic mirrored tiles. It’s the sort of thing you buy and never use; it sits on a shelf for years waiting to be dusted and find a purpose. It never does.

“Nothing. I like looking at all this stuff, but most will collect dust.”

Hunter wanders off in search of goodness knows what. It crosses my mind that his experience of shopping like a normal person is probably limited or non-existent. Nothing about Hunter’s life is typical. He lives somewhere between his public persona and the shadows. His needs are met by the vast number of staff that surround him. For him, this is all new.

He arrives back at my side, clutching a small paper bag in his hand, the shop’s logo detailed on the front. He hands it to me dramatically as if it were treasure from a quest. I take it from him, curious to see what in this little store could have piqued the interest of a man like him enough to buy it.

The bag crinkles happily when I open it. Inside, I find a small figurine of two teddy bears locked in a hug. I lift it to eye level and twirl it around in my hand in the light. I look from Hunter to the object and back again. He looks a little embarrassed, almost uncertain of my reaction to his gift. It’s the type of present a teenager would give his girlfriend. My heart swells with the sweetness.

“I hope you have room on one shelf for this dust collector,” he says, with a nervous chuckle. “It was too cute not to get, it reminded me of us.”

“Did you seriously just use the word cute?”

“I believe I did,” he admits, stepping forward and gathering me into his arms. I place the little ornament back in the bag, then sink into his chest, breathing deeply. He is everything I always hoped he would be. In his arms. I feel safer than I ever have, and his familiar scent soothes any worries from the inside out. “You make me a much happier man, Bella.” His lips drop onto my forehead, and we both stand there for a few moments enjoying the embrace.

“Let’s forget about Christmas shopping,” I say, wanting to only spend time with him, everything else becoming irrelevant.

“What would my wife like to do instead?” His tone is hopeful, as if I will suggest going home and going to bed. Hunter and I have missed so much in our relationship, even before our wedding, when our time together was limited. We’ve never been able to date and be us. So, I decide to test him a little, see if he’s as keen to experience all of what our relationship has to offer outside the sheets too.

“Ice skating. Did you see the rink on the way in?” I blink up at him, hopeful he will take me up on my suggestion, but unsure. He is still the strict leader of the London underground, no matter how many cute teddy bear ornaments he buys. My husband is dangerous to those not on his side.

“Your wish is my command,” he says smoothly with a smile. He looks completely unruffled by the idea. “Lead the way.”

“Do you know how to skate?”

“No, but I’m sure you’ll hold my hand while I get my balance.”

The changing rooms are packed with a gaggle of families trying to wedge children in corners so they don’t run onto the ice unattended. Mothers squeeze into the cheap plastic boots with razors attached as three-year-olds climb over them sporting the same. How someone has not lost a limb here, I don’t know. Hunter and I collect our skates from the bored looking college student behind the counter. Barely twenty, he stands with his arms crossed, chewing on a piece of gum. The blue sweatshirt he wears is stained with goodness knows what as he looks through us.

“Good sir,” Hunter says once he has lifted his skates from the worn red worktop, which looks to have been slashed countless times with the blades. “A gentleman should always look alert. If you were one of my employees, you wouldn’t be around long.”

His choice of words doesn’t go unnoticed. The open-ended statement that the boy wouldn’t be around could mean a few things in Hunter’s world, one I know too well from childhood. Those who don’t pull their weight, lose, every fucking time. Ronan hovers behind us, listening in. The normally chill man is always on edge in my husband’s presence. Since our reconciliation, my friend has become more distant and fallen into his role as staff.

“Lucky I’m not your employee then, mate,” the boy retorts, cocky. He lengthens his scrawny frame beneath the oversized clothes. Hunter holds out his hand for his change, and the fucking idiot drops it onto the counter.

“What’s your name?” Hunter asks, his voice eerily low.

“None of your business.”

Hunter turns to Ronan giving him a look that can only mean one thing. This fuckwit needs to be taught a lesson. Ronan immediately starts tapping on his phone.

“You see, young man,” Hunter begins, stepping forward and sitting his skates back down on the counter. “The only reason you’re still standing right now is because I am here with my good wife. But your open disrespect tells me that you have little respect for anyone.” Hunter’s phone beeps, he pulls it from his pocket, looks at a message then back to the boy. “So, Gareth Walker, I suggest you improve your attitude because I will be watching.”

I’m not sure whose jaw has dropped lower, mine or Gareth’s, with Hunter’s knowledge of his name. Our attendant, who has now lost the cocky and overconfident attitude, looks suitably freaked out by the encounter. Hunter smiles, nods, picks up his skates, then takes my hand and leads me over to a bench to get ready.

“How the fuck did you know his name?” I whisper once we’re out of earshot. “Or more like, how did you get it so quick?”

“I have my sources,” he replies before I can push him for more information. “And don’t swear, Bella. It’s not pretty on those lips.” He stops tying his laces, then leans in and places a gentle kiss on my cheek. My heart beats a little harder, and I feel myself blush. I look at him, all sharp suit and slick hair—he is a complete contrast to all the other men here ready for a day out with their families. But he is here, and that’s all that matters.

The ice rink is in the center foyer of the mall. We waddle over to the entrance, ready to step onto the already crowded rink. Hunter lifts his foot, placing it onto the ice as if he’s done it thousands of times before. The cloak of superiority he wears as he walks down the street swaying around his shoulders.

“Do you want me…” He lifts a hand, stopping me from offering any help. So I cross my arms, stand back, and wait for the carnage to unfold. Arrogant twat, I hope he falls on his ass.

With one blade on, he adds the next, holding his arms out to balance. People skate round and round the same way, faster skaters on the inside while slower ones cling to the edge. Every so often, a child pushing a penguin-shaped stabiliser slides by. It feels like we’ve wandered onto the set of a Christmas movie.

Hunter moves forward a little, one foot pushing outwards then the other. He pushes himself out into the faster section of the rink, and others navigate around him, attempting not to crash. As I move to join him on the ice, he twists around to look for me. His feet move with his eyes, and he loses his footing.

Arms and legs flail around as he tries to regain is balance. He reminds me of a baby giraffe attempting to stand for the first time. One heel, then the other flies upward, and he falls onto his back, ending up star-fished on the cold ground. I step on, then glide over to help him. He gazes up at me from the ice, and I offer him my hand, reveling a little in his misfortune.

“Ready to stop being so fucking macho?” I ask him as he takes it.

“Sure,” he mutters. Over his shoulder, Ronan is standing rink-side in fits of laughter. I try not to smile but fail miserably. Hunter huffs, then wipes at his now wet shoulders with his fingers. “Okay, show me how it’s done.” I take his hand, and we start by skating slowly around the edge. As we find some sort of rhythm, he says sexily, “And Bella, I told you not to swear.”

For the next thirty minutes, we wobble together. I’m attempting to remember a pastime I loved as a child, and he’s trying not to fall on his ass. A group of young children step onto the ice with their mothers, each one clutching a woman’s hand. I can’t help but stare—so much joy and amazement in such tiny packages. Each little person is thriving on the wonderment of life and doing something new.

“Bella,” Hunter says. I hear him but can’t tear my eyes away from the heartwarming scene. A few moments pass and he tries again. “Bella.”

“Uh huh…”

“Do you want to be a mother?”

We come to a stop on one side of the rink, my hand resting on the barrier, steadying myself, and not because I can’t balance on the ice. His direct query catches me off guard. Was my hope so blatant that he saw my wish from a single look? He takes my hand and spins me to face him.

“Eyes on me, pretty girl,” he says, his eyes boring into my soul as if wanting to read my mind. “If it’s a child you want, then you will have one.”

Without waiting for my confirmation or denial, he takes my hand and leads me from the ice.