Page 21 of Theirs to Hunt (Girls Like Us #1)

Chapter twenty-one

I lean back in my chair and gaze out over the Central Business District, watching people drift along Dauphine on their way to Canal Street.

My little fawn acquitted herself well in the meeting.

We chose wisely.

She’s sharp, composed, savvy enough to thrive once she accepts the truth: she’s ours.

If she fumbled, if she cracked under the weight of it, I would’ve walked away.

She didn’t.

My fingers spin the pen between them, a quiet habit.

Until I think of Jeff from Marketing.

The way he leered at her.

The pen slips, flies from my hand, and hits the glass wall with a soft clatter.

A dry voice cuts in from behind me.

“What, loss of your perfect control?”

Brooks steps into the office without ceremony.

“Did the stock tank or the meeting go sideways?”

I don’t turn around.

“It’s disappointing when trash forgets it’s disposable.”

Brooks chuckles as he shuts the office door behind him.

“You mean Jeff? He’s been sniffing around since we got here. Probably before that. Probably thinks ‘mandatory meeting’ meant networking and necklines.”

I finally swivel my chair to face him.

“He touched her.”

Brooks’ jaw tightens.

“I saw.”

“I told myself to wait. To let her run,” I murmur, more to myself than to him.

“But he’s making it very hard.”

“She held her own,” Brooks offers, but there’s a twitch in his brow, a flicker of the same anger I feel.

“Put him in his place before you even had to blink.”

I lean forward, steepling my fingers.

“She’s more than I expected.”

Brooks nods.

“That’s what worries me. She’s already shifting the pace, and neither of us likes to follow, at least in business. But chasing our sweet little fawn? We already know she’s the exception.”

A beat of silence.

Then I say, voice low but sure,

“She challenged the room. Challenged me. And walked out thinking she held her ground.”

I glance back out the window, watching the foot traffic blur into motion.

“Let her have the win. It’ll make her more pliant later.”

Brooks tilts his head.

“I don’t know I want her to be pliant. I think she’s perfect the way she is.”

I hum thoughtfully.

He isn’t wrong.

It’s something to consider.

But now, it’s back to the hunt.

“Now?” I say, eyes still on the street below.

“Now we let her believe she’s safe. That she’s out of the woods.”

I glance over at my son.

“And when she looks over her shoulder and finds only us, she won’t run. She’ll fall.”

I pause.

“Oh, and Brooks, send a message. I don’t want her doing anything alone.”

Brooks laughs, a warm, dark sound.

“I’m on it.”

We exchange a look, equal parts pride and possession.

As soon as Brooks found her, the planning began.

We purchased a home to share in the Garden District.

It’s secluded, elegant, and designed for her.

A sprawling, private estate with a parklike backyard.

We bought every house on the block, too.

Security will occupy the others.

No one will hear our little fawn as she flees or fights, except us.

Most women tear men apart.

Stir up jealousy.

Power plays.

Weakness.

She won’t.

She’ll pull us together.

She’ll give us purpose.

That’s how I know she is ours.