Page 46 of Secret Paths

“I did not say fire.”

Peter gives her a look.

“I said less thrilled,” she says.

Hunter reaches across and covers her hand with his, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “My love, before you solve this with panic and accidentally end up at a tribunal, may I offer something less in breach of employment law?”

Alexandra turns her hand beneath his and laces their fingers together. “Fine. Offer.”

Hunter looks at Peter. “I have been thinking about adding another person to the finance team.”

Peter’s expression closes almost before Hunter finishes the sentence. “Hunter.”

“I know that tone.”

“I do not need you to make up a job for me.”

“I am not.”

“You cannot expect me to believe this is a coincidence.”

“It is not a coincidence. It is timing.” Hunter shifts his pint out of the way and rests a forearm on the bar. “I have needed another person for months. My Director of Finance keeps getting dragged into day-to-day work that someone else should be handling. Supplier payments, payroll checks, budget chasing, month-end bits, all the little fires that stop her doing the actual strategic work.”

Peter doesn't look convinced.

Hunter's voice settles into something steadier. “I mean it. Morton Hall is growing, or at least I am trying to make it grow, and I need her focused on the bigger picture. Forecasting, expansion plans, costs, all the things I should probably pretend I enjoy discussing.”

“You do enjoy discussing costs,” Alexandra says.

“I enjoy discussing costs when they prevent me making expensive mistakes.”

“You still wanted those ridiculous outdoor heaters.”

“They were elegant.”

“They were the price of a small pony.”

“And that is why finance people are important.”

Peter looks down at the bar. “There must be finance people with hotel experience.”

“There are.”

“Then hire one of them.”

“I might. But I would be an idiot not to ask you first.”

Peter’s laugh is short. “Because I am suddenly available.”

“Because you are good,” Hunter says.

The honesty stops him more effectively than any pretend argument could have done.

Peter looks down at his pint, but there is nowhere to hide at this end of the bar. Alexandra is watching him with all the restraint of a woman trying not to wrap her brother in a blanket. Hunter is calmer, but not casual. Even his hand, still loosely linked with Alexandra’s on the bar, has gone still.

“I mean it,” Hunter says. “You understand money, but more than that, you understand people. Half the problem with finance is getting everyone else to stop pretending numbers are something that happen in another room.”

Peter glances at him. “That is surprisingly philosophical for a hotel owner.”