Chapter 16

SIXTEEN

Hunter’s black Aston Martin is exactly like my father’s.

My mouth opens to mention it but quickly snaps shut, not wanting to get into a discussion about my father of all people.

“Nice car,” I point out while Hunter opens the door for me in a gentlemanly manner. He motions for me to get in, looking very impatient. “But really, an Uber could have easily picked me up.”

Hunter rolls his eyes, annoyed at me for stating the obvious again. “I’m driving you home.”

There’s no point in arguing, so I sit inside the car. The first thing to catch my attention is his scent. The smell of a masculine aftershave mixed with the leather seats is intoxicating. My head leans against the headrest as I close my eyes for a moment, knowing all these feelings circulating around my body are all to do with the alcohol and nothing else.

Nothing else.

Hunter gets in and starts the ignition before the engine roars upon taking off. The drive home is not too far from Malibu, but being in close proximity to Hunter Cash makes it even longer.

The roads are dark and windy, and the silence is much more uncomfortable than it needs to be. Soft music is playing, but I feel obliged to say anything to start a conversation.

“You really don’t have to drive me home,” I mention. “I planned an Uber because April dropped me off. My car was doing this weird thing, and I’m not exactly a mechanic, but I’m sure it has something to do with the battery. It kind of sucks because I wasn’t prepared to be without a car.”

I continue to ramble on as if I’m chatting to myself since my talking is better than nothing.

“I’ll probably have to go tomorrow to get it looked at. I don’t even have a mechanic. All these kinds of things, my family normally did for me.” As soon as it comes out of my mouth, I instantly regret it. “Anyway, it was a nice function tonight. I really enjoyed myself. Everyone at work seems so nice.”

Hunter still hasn’t said a word, and I’m all out of small talk as we turn the corner, still in silence.

“Look, I’m not a small talk person, so that’s cool if you want to sit here in silence,” I continue to speak, even though I just gave him the option to not talk at all. “Look, if you’re annoyed I drank, sorry. I know I shouldn’t have. Please don’t get angry at the girls.

It’s just I—"

Hunter quickly interrupts me, “Alexandra, you don’t need to explain yourself. You had fun tonight. That’s all that matters.”

“So, you’re not pissed off that I was drinking, and I’m technically underage?”

“Yes, you are underage for drinking. One more year. You are turning twenty soon, am I correct?”

“How did you know that?”

“Because you’re an employee. As I said, I know everything that goes on in my company. It’s important I have the right people under me.”

My lips press together while I think about his last comment.

“I thought you didn’t get involved in hiring. I thought it was all Meredith?”

Hunter tightens his grip on the wheel as he takes the corner fast. The speed jerks my body toward him, forcing me to grip the door for support.

“I guess when a certain Edwards applies for a role at your company and stays in your house, it’s nice to know a little more about them, don’t you think?”

I let out a shallow sigh. “Look, I don’t particularly want to talk about my family. I’d rather people in the office don’t know who my father is.”

“I don’t understand, Alexandra. You are the daughter of Lex Edwards?” he questions in a condescending tone. “What’s there not to be proud of?”

“As I said, I don’t particularly want to talk about it.”

Hunter doesn’t press or ask any more questions, falling into a digestive silence for the remainder of the drive.

Thankfully, we pull into the familiar driveway as I breathe a sigh of relief. When we exit the car, Hunter enters the code to open the big glass doors. The lights are off, but upon our entering, they turn on, sensing us.

“Thank you for the ride.” I scratch the back of my neck, trying to ignore the awkward tension between us. Thank God I’m somewhat still buzzed because this could be way worse if I wasn’t. “I guess I’ll see you in the office on Monday.”

He places his car key in his pocket, staring at me oddly.

“Hunter,” he says out of nowhere as we walk in. “You can call me Hunter.”

“Okay …” I stammer. “Hunter, it is. In the office, would you prefer it if I called you Mr. Cash like everybody else?”

Hunter rubs his chin with his hand, and the familiar smirk lingers on his lips. “Mr. Cash in the office is fine.”

“Well, since we’re talking about names, you can call me Alexa. No one calls me Alexandra unless I’m in trouble.”

“Alexandra is a beautiful name. I’ll stick to calling you that,” he insists.

My breath catches in my throat. I find myself unable to move, paralyzed on the spot, then I realize my silence has dragged on too long.

“It’s fine. You can call me Alexandra. If that’s what you want, Hunter.”

“That’s what I want,” he answers in a strangled voice but then clears his throat. “At least, for now.”

My lips flatten thoughtfully before I turn my back and walk down the long corridor toward the guest wing. I’ve wondered which room he sleeps in, assuming it’s upstairs. Aside from April’s quick tour of the home, I’ve never gone up. April’s room, or should I say suite, is not far from the one I’m staying in. So, Hunter and Kathy’s room must occupy most of the second level like a penthouse or master quarters.

Inside my room, I shut the door behind me and lean against it trying to catch my breath. My heart is beating like a drum, unable to slow down in pace.

Out of nowhere, my head begins to spin from a combination of my night with Hunter and the multiple cocktails consumed at the party. To try to avoid being hungover tomorrow, I head to the bathroom for a quick shower.

I lingered way too long under the hot water, my fingers turning into prunes. When I finally get out and brush my teeth, I remember to take painkillers to avoid waking up with a headache.

My hands rummage through my bag, then drawer, but come up empty. Not wanting to go to the kitchen this late, I decide to just climb into bed instead. Whatever happens tomorrow can be tomorrow’s problem.

It’s late, yet I’m far from tired. Hoping to find something to help me fall asleep, I reach for my phone on the nightstand to find something to watch.

The home screen has notifications from the group chat with my sisters and cousins. There’s message after message, and the last three lines said something about babies, losing my interest.

I click on my Instagram to notice the red arrow notifying me there are unread DMs.

Bromano:Nice of you to reply promptly.

My fingers type quickly to respond.

Me:Some of us have lives, you know.

The typing bubble appears, even at this late hour. Considering he’s on the East Coast, it would be five in the morning.

Bromano:Why are you awake? I assume someone who has such a busy life needs her beauty sleep.

Me:I was at a work function. You know work, right? Something you do when you want to earn money.

Bromano:Really, I had no idea, so you landed yourself a job, huh? Do I dare ask exactly what job you are working at this hour in the morning?

Me:Lucky I’m still drunk, or I’d take offense to that comment.

Bromano:Naughty girl, underage drinking. I hope you’re behaving yourself.

Me:I’m always the good girl, unlike you, the bad boy.

Bromano:If only you knew Alexa.

Me:I’m glad I don’t know, player. Anyways, I need to get my beauty sleep.

Bromano:Of course, Princess.

A grin spreads across my face, but it’s soon followed by a yawn. Placing my phone back on the nightstand, my eyes begin to fall heavy in need of sleep.

My mind goes in and out of consciousness.

All of a sudden, I’m naked in bed, and Hunter is kneeling in front of me.

“Have you been talking to another man?” he questions in a jealous tone. “Because you belong to me, do you understand?”

Hunter doesn’t give me a chance to respond, entering me whole as I moan in delight.

“Good girl.” He places his hand on the base of my neck, almost choking me.

A loud rasp leaves my dry throat as my chest is rising and falling, trying to slow down my breathing to a normal place.

What the hell was that dream?

My head pounds, and I quickly realize it wasn’t such a good idea to go without taking any painkillers. Nor is it good to have a dream about fucking a man so off-limits.

I manage to sit up in bed for a moment before laying back down as my head spins. An involuntary groan escapes me, and I’m unable to get comfortable with the continuous throb near my temple.

“Fucking hell,” I complain to myself, deciding to go find some pain relief in the kitchen.

It’s probably a good five-minute slow shuffle before I get across the entire house to the kitchen. When I get there, I’m reluctant to turn on the lights as it’s such a big kitchen and someone might see me. I stumble my way to the pantry, hoping to locate some Advil. I know the last time I was in here, I discovered a first aid box. Scanning all the shelves, I try to remember where I saw it.

“Are you looking for something?” a voice behind me asks.

I jump back, clutching my chest, unable to breathe. Turning around, Hunter is standing at the entrance, half exposed with no shirt on. My eyes gravitate toward his stomach, counting every single abdominal muscle cut to perfection. His low-cut black and red checkered bed pants hang low, showcasing the V which some men are known for. I shake my head to rid myself of impure thoughts, but it makes me more unsteady on my feet. Then, I remember my dream. My stupid subconscious is trying to sabotage my waking life.

“I was looking for something. I have a headache.”

“You do know what cures a headache, don’t you, Alexandra?”

I’m not sure if it’s my mind going to places it shouldn’t, but it’s thinking something dirty and totally not shareable in the confined space.

“Advil?

A smirk lingers on his lips. “Yes, one of many things.”

He reaches across me, almost trapping me in the corner, to grab a box. His arm brushes against mine, causing a jolt of electricity to shoot right through my body. I’m standing here barefoot in my boxer shorts and tank, quickly realizing there’s no bra beneath. I cross my arms, trying to cover myself, the move catching his attention.

“Hangover already, I assume,” he notes in dark amusement.

I nod, but the movement feels like a jackhammer running through my head.

“I should’ve said no,” I groan, pressing my forehead. “I live in regret.”

“You were having fun,” Hunter points out, but then his expression turns wary. “Is Josh bothering you?”

“Josh? He’s nice,” I respond honestly. “He asked me out to lunch and stuff, nothing big.”

“I don’t look fondly upon workplace romances.”

“It’s not a romance.” I almost laugh, though my head says don’t you dare. “I’m not interested in him if that’s what you’re inferring.”

“I’m just making sure you understand I do have some rules.”

As he hands me the Advil, I reach out, but the box falls to the ground. Great, hungover, and clumsy. I reach down to grab the box at the same time he does, but our hands touch accidentally.

The jolt shocks me again, causing me to whimper. I quickly swallow, refusing to look at him, knowing whatever I’m feeling right now is dangerous.

Repeat, Hunter Cash is April’s stepfather. I work in his company and sleep in his house. It’s wrong, forbidden, and the only reason why I’m feeling this is that I’m so desperate to physically connect with a man again. That’s it. Maybe any man will do.

I hear his own strangled breathing inside the small space, only inches apart. His hand extends to pass me the box, forcing me to gaze into his eyes to say thank you.

“Thank you,” I whisper, mesmerized by the eyes staring back at me. “I should probably go back to bed.”

“Of course.”

He helps me on my unsteady feet as I try to stand up. Once again, his grip on my hand lingers much longer than necessary. Unknown to him, I catch his eyes staring at my chest with a pained gaze.

My throat makes a sound, shifting his attention, but I turn around to leave the room. Suddenly, I stop in my tracks, turning back to face him.

“Do you actually live here?” I question out of curiosity. “Why haven’t I seen you around?”

“I’m here when I need to be here,” he responds bitterly. “Anything else?”

The change in mood leaves me annoyed. Why does such a simple question goad some sort of reaction from him? Surely, a simple yes or no would suffice. But no, he turns into a jerk.

If he wants to act like one, I’ll torture him just as badly.

“Nope, I guess I’ll head back to my room to take care of my headache.”

His eyes narrow, knowing his mention of what cures headaches is directed at orgasms. Since I don’t have a guy, it looks like only I can cure my headache.

“You’re playing with fire,” he says in a low, grumbling tone.

“And you’re married,” I remind him. “Or are you only married when you want to be?”

Hunter lowers his eyes to the floor. “It’s not what you think.”

“I have no idea what to think.”

“Don’t you have a headache to take care of?” he asks, changing subjects to avoid discussing this weird arrangement between him and Kathy. “It’s late.”

“You’re right. Good night again, Hunter.”

A sly smile forms on his lips. “Good night, Alexandra Edwards.”