With a giggle as if Isabelle is silly, Callie leaps up to her feet to charge into her room to gather her beloved stuffed rabbit.
Not even thirty minutes later, we’re strolling toward the park Isabelle mentioned hand in hand. To outsiders, we look like an everyday American family going to enjoy the last rays of a summer sun. Only I know how starkly contradicting things could have been if Tobias hadn’t stepped up to the plate as I did for Callie.
Just as we find the perfect blades of grass to eat on, my cell phone buzzes. Since it’s my regular cell, I could answer it later, but a niggle in my gut is warning me it would be erroneous of me to do.
I hold my finger in the air. “I’ll be just a minute.”
Isabelle nods before helping Callie fold out the picnic blanket the concierge lent us. When I pull my phone out of my pocket, it advises I have a missed call from Hunter and a text message from Regan. I veer toward the lesser of two evils by opening Regan’s message.
Regan:Tina resigned.
I shouldn’t sigh in relief, but I do. Things have been hostile since our exchange in the hub of my nightclub last month, but since I didn’t have the time nor the patience to deal with her theatrics, her concerns were shifted to Regan.
Aware Tina’s resignation wouldn’t have occurred if Isabelle hadn’t become a part of my life, I grant unscripted leniency.
Me:Good, but still forward her the severance package as drawn up last month. I’d like things to remain amicable between us.
Money doesn’t buy loyalty, but it keeps mouths I don’t want opened, closed. Isabelle is smart, she knows there’s more to Tina’s dislike than an inability to compete against her, but I’d rather not have that spelled out in print. We were facing daily exaggerated accounts about our supposed shotgun relationship.
The heat only cooled when news of Cormack being left at the altar reached the front page of every magazine in the country. His billionaire status already had him being hounded by the media without adding the failure to nab a humble baker with a meager existence as his wife.
He could have drained the scandal from their stories as quickly as he did Clara’s bank accounts, but he didn’t want to take a leaf out of his father’s book. He wanted to create his own story. If the blush on Harlow’s cheeks when we crossed paths at the private airstrip earlier today was anything to go by, he’s doing precisely that.
I’m drawn from my thoughts by my cell pinging with a returned text.
Regan:Will do my best, but I’ll be honest, I don’t like my chances.
I jab my thumbs into my phone screen so forcefully, I’m surprised it doesn’t crack.
Me:Anything I should know about?
Regan returns my message remarkably quickly.
Regan:No. But if anything changes, I’ll let you know. See you tomorrow.
Ten seconds ago, I would have said you couldn’t hear sentiment in a text message. Now I know I’m mistaken. She’s biting at the bit to arrive in New York tomorrow. Not because she’s dying to see Hugo wed, but because she’s eager to rejoin the mile-high club.
Pretending my skin isn’t crawling, I return Regan’s text before dialing Hunter’s cell. He answers two rings later, sounding breathless. It makes me smile. His work ethic the past seven months has been so meticulous, I was beginning to wonder if he has any fun.
“Busy?” Mirth highlights my usually strict, decorous tone.
Hunter’s laugh is as airless as his lungs sound. “Something like that.”
He whispers something to Paige. I’d rather not repeat what he says, or my dick will go on hiatus weeks earlier than planned. Jae isn’t convinced I should go the vasectomy route, but I’m willing to give it a chance. I’ll do anything if it stops me from not keeping my word to Isabelle.
I press my phone in close to my ear when Hunter says, “I heard back from my contact in the Popov compound. Someone in the Popov entity forwarded the files to the Ravenshoe PD.”
“Traceable IP?” I sound shocked. Rightfully so. Vladimir is infamous for massive paper trails, but that doesn’t mean he’s lenient on digital security.
When traffic roars down the line, I shift my eyes to my hotel. Now I need something to remove Hunter’s image from my mind as well as his words. He’s standing on the balcony of his hotel suite, wearing nothing but a bedsheet. Not distance nor his thick beard can hide his smile when he catches my rueful glare.
“It’s hot in my suite, figured some fresh air would help.”
My growl chops up my words. “Or you could just turn up the AC.”
After chuckling loud enough I hear it twice, Hunter gets back to the task at hand. “The server used is one I designed. It’s not available on the retail market.”
My grin is as smug as his tone. “They took your bait?”
