Page 32 of Hunter

“What is that?” I ask him, my interest piqued.

Over the years, I’ve known that the men assigned to my protection would be reporting back on my life. The men I’ve dated, the places I’ve been. I never hid anything because I didn’t feel the need to. In my mind, Hunter was no more interested in me than I was in him. And from the stories I’d heard over the years, he had no shortage of women by his side.

“My support.”

He pushes the door open, and we step into a room I least expect. The white wall on the far side is emblazoned withCurvyGurlsCanJigglein pink scrolled writing. Mirrors line the other three walls, a sleek wooden floor covering the vast space. To one side is a walk-in wardrobe, where rows of sports outfits similar to those I wear in my social media content hang meticulously. Next to it is a small bathroom; the door sits open, and I can see a shower.

Hunter pulls a remote control from his pocket and signals to a television screen suspended in the corner. He hits the red button, and it comes to life with a compilation of my own page of videos from the past two years. Fitness equipment is stacked and hung on the walls, ready to be used, all brand new, and in my signature pink color with my logo.

“What is this?” I say, completely stunned.

“Is it not obvious?”

“Yes, but…”

“You have an audience to entertain, and I am aware you haven’t been able to create your videos since moving here.” He still holds my fingers, but his hand slips to take more of mine. “I’ve watched you since you began, Bella. You look incredible on screen. I want to help. Your channel makes you even more mesmerizing.”

“But…” I stammer, not missing his flattering comment. My heart rate quickens a fraction with the compliment. “All my content has been anonymous. How could you know?”

Hunter smiles, his teeth sink into his bottom lip. He almost gives a hint of shyness as I question him on how he knows my secret. He morphs back to the teenage boy I would watch around the door frame when his family came to visit. We would meet each other’s eyes then blush, never speaking until we were older.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t?”

“Well…yes, no one knows except…” My words disappear as it becomes apparent the man I thought was keeping my secrets wasn’t. Ronan has been reporting back this whole time while pretending not to be. How could I be so stupid? Of course he was never on my side, appointed by my husband. He wasn’t really going to keep my secrets. As my anger begins to bubble, Hunter squeezes my fingers to regain my attention.

“No, it wasn’t Ronan,” Hunter says, blowing my suspicions out of the water. “He took his initial instructions of protecting your privacy a little too literally. The man is like a fucking locked safe. He would barely tell me if you were alive.” I laugh a little at his comment, and my faith is restored in the person I thought I could trust. “Our tech guys reported unusual activity on your phone.”

“My phone?”

“We monitor some communications to ensure there are no issues within the business. No one trying to hack our information or systems,” he says evasively. “We were notified when you set up the account as it was on a company device.”

“You’ve been stalking my personal phone,” I snap, the idea of being watched so close infuriating. Even though I knew there was some level of surveillance, I never imagined it would be so, so intimate. Never did I think he would want to know so much about me.

“Yes and no,” he admits. “I don’t read your conversations if that’s what you’re worried about.” He smirks, raising an eyebrow, and I relax a fraction. Hunter has been a topic of many conversations with the few girlfriends I’ve had over the years. They always had an interest in him. I stopped trying to have friends when I realized most were just looking for a path to him. Once they realized we didn’t communicate, they lost interest anyway. “Don’t worry, Isabella. I haven’t been adding your boyfriends to a hit list.”

“I’ve not had a man in years,” I mutter, his comment catching me off guard, my defensive instincts kicking in with the perceived negativity. “And you would have no right considering the number of women you’ve been with.”

He steps forward, taking my other hand. We stand, staring at one another in the middle of my new studio. His head cocks to the side as his eyes run over my face before dropping down my body to the floor. It feels as though he is removing each piece of my clothing as he does so. When they return to my eyes, they’ve darkened, closer to the more menacing version of him I’ve met in recent weeks.

“Have I not made myself clear? There are no other women.”

“I’ve seen the reports.”

“Do you believe the daily press on everything they print?” he asks.

“No, of course not!”

“Have you never heard of false reporting, Bella?” He steps forward so our bodies almost touch. The annoyance melting away to uncertainty. “Because I mentioned already, there have been no women. The only woman I have ever been interested in is you.”

“You expect me to believe that?” I half whimper under his stare. My heart yearns to believe him. “That there have been no women, and all the gossip columns and photos of you with models on your arm are fabricated.”

“I do. Why would I lie?” I go to open my mouth to protest, but he begins speaking again. “The photos are merely me with whatever companion I was advised to take to an event. The stories were leaked purposefully to the press to give them something to talk about. But no woman has felt my body the way you have since our wedding night. And no woman will until you do again. I’ll wait however long it takes, Bella, but I know you want me too.”

“I do not!” I protest, unsettled at being called out so bluntly. Knocked sideways by his claims as to have not slept with anyone since me, he appears unruffled, merely shrugging then changing the subject.

“When your fitness page first appeared, I admit I was amused in the beginning. It was a window into your life I had never had before. All my information relied on others, and now I could see for myself. It brought a sense of peace to see you happy.”

“I dance, Hunter. I show women that we can all dance, no matter their shape.”

---