9. A Fool In Love

Chapter 9

A Fool In Love

HUNTER

I t's noon when I wake up in my bed, alert. The room is dark without a shred of light, and I stay in bed, closing my eyes to experience the silence wrapping itself around me. Reluctantly, I decide it's time to get up, so I pull on some sweatpants and make my way to the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee.

My entire penthouse is decorated in shades of black, white, and grey, and often times it's hard to discern where the lines of one thing begins and another ends. Yet, as I cross the living room, I see a figure huddled on the long couch. I stare at it and then notice the tuft of brown hair peeking out from under the comforter.

Frowning, I make my way over to the couch and kick the dangling arm. "What the fuck are you doing here, Vaughn?"

Vaughn Gunn is one of my oldest friends and the most likely of my small circle of friends to break into my home...and live to tell the tale.

He stirs and mutters something unflattering under his breath.

"What the fuck was that?" I ask dangerously.

He opens one eye and glares at me. "Let me sleep. Why are you even awake at this time?"

"Go sleep at your own damn house." I yank the comforter off, and he falls onto my ten-thousand-dollar area rug.

"I'm not even bothering you, you asshole," he howls, making a half-hearted attempt to pull the blanket back on his body.

"Last time I checked, this is my house, and you were not invited to visit. Now get the fuck up. I'm not going to ask you again."

"Shelly kicked me out," he finally explains after his first cup of coffee at the island counter of my kitchen.

"How did she kick you out when it's your house?" I demand to know, annoyed that Vaughn has given this woman so much power over his life.

"She's mad because I refused to rescind the prenup," he says wearily. "Look, I talked to Christian, and he advised me against it. She had no problem signing it when we got together, but now suddenly, after three years of marriage, she suddenly has an issue with it?"

Christian Lee is a lawyer and another old friend of ours.

"The man has a point." I lift up my mug and take a sip of the hot liquid. "Why the hell are you arguing with her over your money? I don't understand why you're in this marriage if you're not happy."

"I was happy," Vaughn says tightly. "We were happy, but suddenly, there were all these issues. I just don't know where they came from. I feel like there's something I'm missing."

It's true that a man in love is the last person to know, perhaps because he's desperate not to acknowledge the truth.

"You should hire an investigator to look into this," I say, studying my friend.

The sharp look Vaughn shoots at me makes me shrug.

"Security is what I do."

"Security work and investigative work are two very different things."

"I know what you're trying to say, but that's not it. I would never invade Shelly's privacy."

"You know she's hired one to look into you, don't you?" I ask coolly.

Vaughn just falls silent.

I sip my coffee again. "You can either close your eyes, or you can do something about it. We are all here to help you, but if you want to act like a fool over her, that's up to you."

"I married this woman because I loved her," Vaughn hisses, setting his mug down firmly on the granite. "I'm nobody's fool."

"No," I correct him in an unbothered voice. "You married her because she told you she was pregnant, and then she very conveniently lost the baby two months after the wedding."

"I'll pretend you aren't insinuating what I think you are," my friend says as he gives me a lethal look, the vein in his forehead twitching. "You wouldn't understand what it's like to love somebody, Hunter, and I can't imagine you ever will. You're a fucking block of ice. No offense."

"None taken." I casually sip my brew, my eyes on him.

"When I met Shelly, I was done. She was it for me. Even before she got knocked up, I always knew that she was the endgame. Nothing matters aside from her."

I shrug because Vaughn is a hopeless romantic. Me? Not so much.

"Then rescind the prenup," I tell him.

When he doesn't say anything in response, I give him a steady look. "Your silence is speaking volumes, old friend. You know it, and I know it. She's after your money. I don't know what changed these past few years, but now it's about the money, and I would bet that the moment you rescind it, she will ask for a divorce."

"Does your honesty always have to be so brutal?" Vaughn asks with a miserable look on his face.

"You have to figure this out," I tell him. "Clinging on to someone who doesn't want you is disgraceful."

"You can be a shitty friend at times," Vaughn growls at me.

"Yeah, well, you knew what you signed up for when you decided to crash at my place." I glance at the clock on the microwave. "I have to go."

"Where're you going?" Vaughn stares at me. "My life is fucking falling apart, and you're just leaving?"

"Take-out menus are in the left-hand drawer, and there's ice cream in the freezer," I say over my shoulder. "Come to the club later and get drunk."

That I can do for him.

"I don't want to get drunk!" Vaughn complains. "I want to talk about this. I need your advice."

"Next, you'll want to braid each other's hair and watch the latest season of Real Housewives," I retort as I walk towards the bedroom to get changed. "Not happening."

"That's a legendary franchise!" Vaughn scoffs indignantly, but I've already closed the door.

As I take a shower, I wonder what the hell I'm doing. I've got the Marco thing to handle, the Isaiah issue to address, not to mention a million other things to do. Taking out my new manager to shop for clothes is ridiculous, almost as absurd as Vaughn not rescinding that prenup of his. I should've just given her a credit card and told her to buy something appropriate for herself.

Why am I personally overseeing her shopping? What is it about Megan Taylor that makes me do things that are completely outside of my norm? And why are random images of her trying on figure-flattering clothes flashing in my head and making my dick swell?

I've got to stop this. Dwelling too much on why I have these thoughts is only encouraging me to have more. As I button up a new light blue Armani shirt, I look at my reflection in the mirror.

This life, this luxury, came at a heavy price. I lost everything to be pushed to the edge of stealing a container that was filled with expensive medical equipment. I made my first paycheck with that.

That one dark evening when I made a calculated decision, desperate for a change, and for revenge, it altered my life. All those people in the neighborhood who used to look down on that scraggly boy with arms so thin that they looked like they could break at a touch, now fear me.

I put on a contrasting silk tie, my eyes seeing the image of that defiant boy in front of me. I bled, I cheated, I stole. I did everything to drag myself out of that life of despair and to get revenge on the men who stripped me of my only happiness. And now, I'm sitting on the throne, looking down at all those miserable assholes who used to beat me whenever they saw me.

I still have the scars on my back. Literal scars. I've always had the option of getting them surgically removed, but I choose not to. They're a reminder of my roots in case I ever get too comfortable. This empire was built on the blood of the people who took my family from me, and I don't ever want to forget that.

Shrugging on my suit jacket, I take one last final look at myself in the mirror before leaving.

Remember who you are, Middleton.

No distractions allowed.

Or this could all go away like poof.