Page 42 of The Revenge Agenda

“They’re not the ones who went through hell.”

“Maybe they don’t know what to say to you.”

He stays quiet, and I replay the question to work out if I’ve said the wrong thing. He keeps his thoughts to himself, which only makes mine louder. Faster. Racing through all the possibilities of what could be going on behind those dark, intense eyes.

Was this all a mistake? Should I have never mentioned the revenge and dragged him here and got my friends in on it? Does he think it’s weird that I need a place to get away? That I make clothes?

“Why isn’t it finished?” he asks, running his finger along the edge of the suit.

“I got distracted.”

His eyes crease as he holds back his smile. “Of course you did. Do you finish anything?”

“Believe it or not, I do. When Christian got married, I took a week off work, didn’t sleep, and made us all suits and a dress for Elle on super-short notice. They looked fucking awesome.”

He turns to me. “I sort of love that you mention all these people and assume I know who you’re talking about.”

“Huh. Sorry.”

“No, I’m being serious.”

I consider him for a moment. “You can talk to me.”

“Isn’t that what we’re doing?”

“No, I mean …” What do I mean? “You said your friends haven’t called. Well, I might not know what to say either, but if you need to talk to someone, you can fumble through it with me.”

“Thanks,” he says on a whisper.

“Give me your phone. I’ll put my number in, and then you don’t have to use work emails anymore.”

Hunter hands his over and watches as I punch in the numbers. When I’m done, I hold it out and look up at him, surprised that we’re standing closer than I thought. His gaze roams over my face, hovering on my lips before flicking up to my eyes again. It’s hard to meet his steady gaze. Hard to keep contact and wonder what he sees.

“You would really sleep with me for revenge?”

I take a moment, trying to figure out what kind of answer he’s looking for from me. “I … I wouldn’t with just anyone. Like, I hook up sometimes, but it’s not my favorite thing. You, well, we’re friends. Or at least I consider us friends. And I don’t like that Ian hurt you. I don’t like that he hurt me either, obviously, but if Émile’s right and we can get back at him …” I shrug, forcing myself to meet his eye. “It would be worth it. And you’re really hot, so it’s not like I wouldn’t enjoy it in the process.”

He doesn’t laugh like I thought he might. “What about after?”

“Well, I won’t kick you out of bed if that’s what you’re worried about.”

His expression tightens. “Wouldn’t it be awkward?”

“Isn’t that up to us? Besides, you said you wouldn’t do it, so this whole discussion is pointless, isn’t it?”

“True.” He takes a long, measured breath. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t kiss you though.”

Well, that shocks the hell out of me. “Really?”

His lips twitch. “I didn’t say I would either.”

“Well, I’m here for it.”

“How would we do it? You know. If we did.”

I glance over at the sewing machine on my workstation. “We’d prop your phone up there.”

Hunter hesitates, then takes the phone I’m still holding and takes a step away. He flicks it over to video and positions his phone so I’m in the frame. “Like this?”

---