Free Billionaire With a Twist by Lila Monroe Page B

tell it startled him, because his gaze swung up to meet mine
again, and didn’t immediately pull away.
    It was an uncomfortably intimate
moment, nothing like his revelation earlier this evening. I had
wanted to know more about him then, about whatever it was in his past
that had shaped and hurt him.
    Now, I just wanted to crawl under the
table and disappear.
    “So, what did you do before you
took over Knox whiskey?” I said quickly, tossing the
conversational ball back to him and hoping that he would pursue it
instead of my revelation.
    And bam, there was that tension again,
tightening his shoulders until they were nearly up around his ears.
His voice was much too carefully casual as he replied, “Oh,
nothing much. Wasted a lot of time and money, according to Chuck.”
    Why did that defensive posture make my
heart hurt so much? Why did I want so badly to touch his cheek, to
tell him everything would be okay?
    “I wouldn’t take anything
that asshole says too seriously,” I said instead.
    “I kind of have to.” The
admission seemed to jump almost involuntarily out of his mouth, and
this time my gaze was the one startled up to his. His eyes were as
fierce as a hawk’s, and as intent. “You said your ideas
were coming along?”
    “Yes.” Like I was going to
share them now, after he’d ripped my whole profession apart.
They were going to be untouchably, unquestionably, 100% perfect
before I let them go before his judgment now. “I’m still
brainstorming, but they’ll be ready soon.”
    “Better not take too long.”
Did I say his shoulders were tense before? He had practically been
lounging compared to the stressed posture he assumed as he looked
away, out over the setting sun, almost drowned in the lake. His
profile was dark, cast in shadow by the meager lanterns strung around
the porch. He let out a long sigh. “Chuck is ready to launch a
takeover. I’ve only managed to retain forty-nine percent of the
shares.”
    I couldn’t help it; I gasped.
“Chuck has the rest?”
    “Only twenty-five percent,”
Hunter admitted. “But that’s a lot. And he can influence
the other shareholders. He…knows things, about a lot of them.
Things they’d want to protect, that they wouldn’t want
other people to know. So. They’ll follow his lead.”
    I felt like the weight of the world had
suddenly been dropped on my shoulders. What was I doing, sitting
around mooning over this man? He clearly had bigger things on his
mind, and so should I.
    “I—I should go.” I
stood. “Thank you for a lovely dinner, but I—should get
back to work.”
    “I suppose I should as well.”
    Hunter stood quickly, trying to push in
his chair; it bumped against mine, which whacked into my leg, and I
stumbled, cursing my decision to wear heels to dinner—
    Hunter caught me.
    “Are you all right?”
    His voice was so deep, and it rumbled
through me—I could feel his chest rising and falling with each
breath, I could feel his heartbeat through his skin—he smelled
like bourbon and cedar and oh, his hands were so strong and warm—
    His eyes, gazing down at me in concern,
his eyes were like molten gold—
    “I’m fine,” I
whispered, breathless.
    And then the moment passed. Hunter
released my arm, stepped away. “Good.”
    I took a step backward too. I seemed
like the only thing to do. “Well, I’ll be going.”
    And yet I didn’t move.
    “So will I.” Hunter turned,
and then turned back. For a second, my heart filled with ridiculous
hope.
    “Thank you,” he said. “For
all that you do.”
    “We soulless minions aren’t
so bad after all, eh?” I tried to joke.
    But his smile was perfunctory and far
away, and he was unreachable once more as he turned and walked away
from me.

 

SEVEN
     
    I was hitting a brick wall. No. A brick
wall was practically a feather pillow compared to the wall that I was
hitting. This was a marble wall, no, a diamond wall, hell, this was a
wall made of some super hard experimental carbon fiber.