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Or Zoe would destroy him, too.
No matter how he made her feel.
* * *
Hunter hated Midtown with a passion.
He hated the streets crammed full of grim worker drones, so self-important and brusque. He hated the building that housed Treffen, Smith, and Howell, an architecturally uninspired black box indistinguishable from the rest of the block it stood on. He hated the press of the crowds on the streets outside. The ubiquitous hot dog vendors, the stink of the subways that rose up through the grates at his feet, the black sparkle of the listless fountain that dominated the courtyard entryway to the building and stood waterless this time of year, like a metaphor.
He hadn’t set foot in this building since the night of that terrible Christmas party ten years ago.
But he was under siege from at least three different lawsuits these days thanks to his antics, and so he’d finally agreed to meet his legal team today in this hateful place. This grand, gluttonous monument to so many lies.
Hunter knew he could very well run into Jason here. And probably would. The man’s name was etched into the wall, after all. He didn’t know what he’d do if that happened.
He knew what he wanted to do, what he should have done ten years ago: punch the smug, insufferable bastard in the face, which was only the smallest part of what Jason Treffen deserved.
Maybe it was time to make sure he got it—but, of course, that would require action.
Austin had spent the time since their ghoulish little December anniversary dinner exposing his father for the monster he was to his family. Alex had spent it plotting out ways to further make Jason pay, publicly. Austin and Alex had plans. They wanted to take Jason down and they had ideas about how to do it. Austin had already done his part. Alex was working on his.
While Hunter was avoiding the entire thing, as if that might make it go away. Along with most of the texts and calls he received from his old friends, while he was at it.
He didn’t bother scowling at his reflection in the gleaming elevator doors before him as he rocketed up toward the firm. He knew what was looking back at him. If anything, Zoe Brook had been too conservative in her rundown of his flaws.
The doors slid open, and Hunter wasn’t at all surprised to see a young woman standing there, looking sleek and polished and delighted to see him.
Looking like déjà vu.
“Hello, Mr. Grant,” she said, smiling. “I’m Iris.”
If he had to guess, he’d say she was the latest incarnation of what Sarah had been. The title had been Legal Assistant back then. But if this one was another of Jason’s girls, doing paralegal work was the very tip of the iceberg.
And that twisting, nasty feeling in his gut told him he knew exactly what that iceberg entailed, and that this girl was part of it. Up to her neck and drowning, no doubt.
One more victim he couldn’t save. How many were there now? How many more would there be before he actually did something about it? How many people could say their blind inaction had an actual body count?
“Nice to meet you, Iris,” he said, and he could hear the gravel in his voice. That banked fury, as toothless as the rest of him. He forced a smile. “Are you here to make sure I don’t get lost?”
“Mr. Treffen sent me to collect you,” Iris said. “He wanted you to drop in and say hello before your meeting.”
If she noticed the way Hunter froze, or the way his smile vanished from his face, she was too well trained to comment on it. And God help him, he didn’t want to think about Jason fucking Treffen’s training program.
“It’s this way,” she said.
But he didn’t follow her when she started to move. He stood there by the bank of elevators, wishing he was a different man.
“Mr. Grant?”
“Please tell Mr. Treffen I don’t have time to see him today,” Hunter said, his voice clipped. Because I don’t know if I’ll try to kill him with my bare hands. Or if I should try to stop myself if I do. Or if—even worse—I’ll do nothing at all. “I’m sure he’ll understand.”
Iris’s polite mask never altered. “Of course,” she said smoothly.
And Hunter let her walk away, straight back into hell, the way he’d let Sarah ten years ago. He even told himself it was better that way.
Because he made every single thing he touched that much worse.
* * *
That evening, Austin escalated to all-caps texts.
Having avoided one Treffen today, Hunter thought he’d do well to avoid the other, too. Not that it was fair, precisely, to lump the two together.
