Fuck.
I’ve become addicted.
It would almost be funny if it weren’t so bloody pathetic.
Then I remember she’s married, and my jaw clenches.
A thousand emotions crash through me.
Most of them are anger.
And then there’s the one emotion I refuse to examine too closely.
Hurt.
Fucking hurt.
Me.
Hunter Wardgrave.
No one bloody hurts me.
Yet somehow a five foot woman with a mane of red hair and hazel eyes has managed it.
I check her bedroom, and when I find it empty, it’s obvious she isn’t here.
The realisation immediately rubs me the wrong way.
I don’t like not knowing where she is.
I should know where she goes, who she’s with, what she’s doing.
I should know everything there is to know about her.
And yet here I am, completely in the dark.
I leave her room, and just as I start down the stairs, voices drift from the lobby below.
I recognise her voice instantly.
But then I hear his. And that changes everything.
The fucker is here again.
I’ve considered every possible candidate for the role of husband, and Julian remains my leading contender.
“You should’ve learned your lesson by now, Piper. But you keep repeating the same mistakes.”
“Leave, Julian,” Piper says.
The moment I reach the last step, I catch sight of the man’s back as he heads for the exit and disappears onto the path outside.
I quicken my pace and follow.
But a small hand wraps around my arm and stops me in my tracks. My eyes drop to her delicate fingers clutching my sleeve, her blue nails glinting.
Slowly, I lift my head and meet her eyes.
