Page 13 of Hunted By Valentine

My eyebrows furrow. “So did you…” Trailing off, I catch his gaze. “… did you ask Michael to enroll me for that purpose?”

He looks as confused as I feel. “Nah, that wasn’t me. I thought this was something you wanted.” Just as his eyes darken, Carolina instinctively takes his hand, squeezing it like she’s trying to prevent the outburst I know is building. “Didheforce you to enroll?”

“Of course not,” I reply flippantly, already knowing who he’s referring to. “Michael merely suggested it, and I agreed.”

I’m the worst actress in the world, and I know I need to up my game. Nick narrows his eyes, clearly not believing me. I know he thinks I’m protecting Michael, but I’m really not. If it wasn’t for the iron-clad contract Dad forced me to sign, I might have killed my husband a long time ago. Or at the very least, run away.

“That’s Professor Grant’s class, isn’t it?” Carolina asks.

“It is,” Nick confirms.

“You know him?” The question flies from me before I can stop myself.

She smiles, and for once, when looking at me, it isn’t strained. “It would be more accurate to say I know of him. I met him at a Christmas party and again a few days before our wedding when Nick mentioned an idea to me.”

“What idea?” I ask, not sure I like the fact that she’s spoken with Valentine.

“You’ll see,” she sing-songs.

I want to ask more questions, but just as I open my mouth to do so, the doors behind us part, and Marco, my brother’s right-hand man, strides out. “All clear,” he says curtly.

Carolina thanks him profusely, her tone warm, very different from how she addresses me. I don’t hold it against her. I’m the one who erected the wall between us when I threatened her sister.

It would probably help if I told her I never had any intentions of harming Willow, but that’s yet another thing I’ve kept to myself. I don’t even know why I don’t say it. Maybe it’s because I like knowing a part of her fears me, or maybe it’s simply because it doesn’t matter.

I’m not someone people should get involved with. The last person I opened up to, Willow, died. It wasn’t my fault, yet I keep feeling like it is. Like the curse that clings to our family snuffed out her bright light simply for being near me.

Walking inside, we take our seats; Nick and Carolina at the end of the table, me on his right side. Within minutes, more people file in. All of them men, and each one dressed in sharp, expensive suits.

I’m content with looking down at the table while they greet Nick and Carolina, addressing them like they’re royalty. Which I suppose they kind of are.

Just as Marco is about to close the doors, I hear a familiar voice, “Sorry I’m late,” and my head snaps in that direction.

An inaudible gasp falls from my lips as Valentine walks in, inclining his head in the direction of my brother and his wife. “I had a few things to take care of.”

Nick just nods, and Carolina makes a small humming sound as she greets my professor. My eyes narrow as I notice the blinding smile he’s giving her. As I look closer, I relax. The smile might be wide, but it isn’t real—it doesn’t even reach his eyes.

“Thank you for joining us, Valentine,” she says. “I was hoping you’d be able to—”

I’m not proud of the coughing fit I fake as Valentine sits down next to me. “Do you need some water?” he asks in a wry tone. It’s as though he knows I’m faking it, a desperate means to get his attention away from Carolina.

What I’m doing makes no sense. She’s happily married to my brother, yet… I don’t want her and Valentine conversing. As I accept the glass of water he hands me, I tell myself it’s because it’s awkward for me. But I’m not sure that’s the truth.

“Right, well, let’s get going,” Nick rumbles.

The meeting commences, and while he quickly explains that we’re here to find out what to do with Carolina’s old neighborhood that my brother burned down, I can barely focus on his words. My body is all too aware of the man next to me, the man whose arm is almost brushing mine.Almost.

I’m still not sure why I’m here, but that’s the story of my life. If I’m called upon, I show up. I never really question it, since that’s the way it’s alwaysbeen. Though, since Valentine is here, I suppose I’m glad I am too. Even if I do feel slightly mortified at the way I reacted to dropping his book.

Taking a deep breath, I let my fingers trace the grain of the table, the texture grounding me as I focus on the voices rising and falling around me. They debate, argue, vying for dominance in a world where compassion is often drowned out by greed.

“A mall,” one suggests, only to be shot down by another who proposes luxury condos instead.

The air crackles with tension, charged like a storm about to break as the men in crisp suits and silk ties argue over cold numbers and colder legacies, their voices rising, clashing. I lean back in my chair, arms folded, watching the power plays unfold before me.

“I have a suggestion,” Carolina says. “We have an opportunity here—to build something more than just another sterile complex.”

At her words, everyone speaks at the same time. They’re so busy focusing on ways to turn the area into a money-machine that they don’t notice the thunderous expression on my brother’s face.

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