Page 64 of Betrayal

CHAPTER TEN

Something had changedbetween Hunter leaving Anna’s bed this morning and now.When he left the meeting room, quietly closing the door behind him, Anna scanned the room.The blinds were closed.She’d never seen the blinds closed.Whoever Hunter had seen before she’d arrived had warranted complete privacy.

Would he tell her if she asked?

That wasn’t part of their deal.

Anna wanted to howl at the moon.She wasn’t content with their deal anymore.She wanted more.Which is why she’d pushed.“Look where that got you.”

Pushing to her feet, she pressed the button to raise the blinds.Then she sat at the table, her laptop open in front of her, while she surreptitiously scanned the outer office.No strangers.

Had he been trying to warn her?That made no sense.He’d been the one to spell out in inky-evil words that monogamy was condition number one for him.Having met Nick Richardson, Hunter’s rule made perfect sense.

Nick Richardson—a man who saturated himself in cologne.

She sniffed the air.Faint, but possible that Nick had been here.Hunter wouldn’t have invited him.An uninvited hostile guest might explain Hunter’s mood.

Trust was hard when you had a cheat for a father, although Brian Ferguson had been faithful to Anna’s mother for a long time now.Trust was harder still when your father betrayed you.Anna’s father’s scorn for Kate’s writing had scarred Kate and Anna.Kate had hidden her writing and fallen prey to the first man who’d pretended to encourage her.Whereas Anna had mimicked Brian Ferguson’s promiscuous behaviour for a while, a stupid plan to make him look at her.

Instead, she’d reached the blindingly obvious conclusion that a lot of men make decisions with their cocks, not their brains.

Thankfully not all men.Choosing celibacy at university meant she had friends from those days, like Niall.She’d reclaimed space to rebuild her self-respect.

Brian Ferguson was no Nick Richardson.While her father hadn’t supported his daughters, he’d never set out to beggar them and their friends.In recent years, she and Kate had both negotiated peace with their parents.Having the Quinns at their back had helped with the reconciliation.

Parents were supposed to love you unconditionally, and all the research said it made it easier to love others.Not uncritically—love wasn’t blind acceptance.But knowing even one person loved you gave you a stronger base than someone who’d been belittled, criticised, and emotionally abandoned at birth.Anna had always had Kate.

Hunter was always on guard.

Yet he’d listened to her trashing Nick.And told her about Nick calling him a loser, Nick being unfaithful, Nick crushing his uncle Ben, and trying to bankrupt the father of Hunter’s closest friend.Hunter was decent, and a decent man would be ashamed of such a father.

Disloyalty was the word she’d settled on to describe her parents’ behaviour and the behaviour of boyfriends boasting of “getting lucky.”Tricking two eighteen-year-old girls into thinking they’d be safe at an upscale all-male birthday party was treachery.By her definition, Nick was endlessly treacherous to Hunter.Easy to understand Hunter’s reluctance to trust.

They’d never talked about Hunter’s previous girlfriends; she’d assumed he’d never allowed anyone close.

“I’m getting close,” she whispered.Just as well because she was three-quarters of the way in love with him.

Anna wanted to mend the tear in their relationship before it spread.More than anything, she wanted to make tonight light and playful.Opening her laptop, she brought up her slideshow of Niall’s work, adding photos from exhibitions when he was in Ireland, photos of pieces he’d given friends or family.

“Hi, I already knocked twice.”

Anna lifted her head to find Hunter lounging against the door jamb.“I can get lost in my work.”She smiled.

“Tell me about it, but I’ve done what I can for now.Ready to go?”

“Sure,” she said, slipping her laptop into her bag.“I’m guessing we’re alone?”She stepped up to him, wrapped a hand around his nape and drew him closer.“I’m sorry for overreacting earlier.”She pressed her nose along his.“That’s a traditional Maori hello, in case you didn’t know.”

“I watch the news.”He brushed a kiss to each of her cheeks—a peace offering.“I like the way the French say hello.”

Holding hands, they crossed to the stairwell leading to his apartment.

“I keep meaning to cook for you,” he said as he unlocked his apartment door.“Then forget to buy ingredients or run out of time.”

“That’s your subconscious sabotaging you.Or protecting you.You don’t really like to cook.”

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