Page 57 of Hunter

“Of course,” I tell Hunter. “I would be delighted to meet her.”

Ronan draws up in front of the house, and I have to hold myself back from dashing out of the door and up the stairs to meet Tilly. On the ride home, my curiosity had got the better of me, and I went from intrigued to being filled with anticipation. I wonder what version of myself will be required. Supportive? Tough? Honest? Will this young woman be looking for a shoulder to cry on?

As I enter the living room, the tension is palpable even before anyone speaks. Hunter sits on the sofa sipping at a crystal glass of whiskey. The staff in the mansion are quiet, each person I passed on my way to the rendezvous moving with no sound. It’s a sign that Hunter is on edge. Perhaps emotions are running high, and he has upset his niece.

It takes me a moment to find her, but she isn’t what I expect. She’s tall and blonde, standing looking out of the window, and completely ignoring her uncle. On hearing my footsteps, she turns around and treats me to a scowl only teenagers and seasoned criminals can pull off. She straightens her shoulders, and the tight black designer dress stretches with the movement. Fierce blue eyes fix on me, and her lips purse as if spotting something nasty.

“So, you must be the wife,” she says. “Didn’t think you’d look so…” She pauses, smirking as if considering how to form the best insult she can. “Yoga mum.”

I blink, momentarily taken aback with her open hostility. With my hand outstretched, I walk over to her and take her fingers in greeting.

“And I didn’t think you’d be such a brat, but here we are.”

Her lower jaw drops open, as her eyes pop wide in shock. I bite my lip in an effort not to laugh.

One point to me. Getting to know Tilly could be fun.

Chapter twenty-seven

Hunter's Residence, London

Hunter

Tilly acted like she did every time the world doesn’t go her way. Isabella dealt with her childish mannerisms effortlessly, calling out the girl’s juvenile jibes with one of her own. My chest puffed slightly as I watched my wife, in awe, conducting herself seamlessly and not missing a beat.

As Isabella strolled across the room with her fingers outstretched in the direction of the other woman, I couldn’t help noticing her form-fitting active wear. Everything about her is perfection, from the swell of her breasts to the knowing smile on her lips. Isabella combines the perfect blend of sass and humility; she’s the one person in this world I can’t say no to.

Tilly takes Isabella’s hand, wrapping her own pale fingers around Bella’s golden ones. They shake, staring each other in the eye. Two women, completely different to look at, almost two decades between them in age, but they have startling similarities. Tilly’s eyes narrow a fraction, as if goading the other woman. Isabella straight up ignores her expression, smiling wide.

“It is wonderful to meet you,” Bella says, her tone sincere. “I’ve heard a lot about you these past few days.”

“I’m sure you have,” the younger woman replies with a chuckle. “And I can guarantee it won’t be good.”

Bella shrugs, unperturbed by Tilly’s suggestion. “We may differ on what our opinion of good is. From what I’ve heard, you’re merely trying to live your own life. I can respect that.”

Tilly’s eyes widen, honest surprise clear on her face. She wasn’t expecting the other woman’s understanding; I wasn’t expecting it myself. Though I can’t say it’s a shock—Isabella has always stood by what she thought was right, and that’s even more obvious now when she is more mature. It’s just another aspect of her I find breathtaking.

The irony doesn’t pass me by. I am a man who loves being in control, but with Bella that was never an option, no matter how much I told myself it was.

“Wow,” Tilly mumbles. Isabella cocks her head to the side, dark eyes assessing her companion. When no further comment is forthcoming, Bella clears her throat loudly.

“Wow?” she questions, raising an eyebrow.

“Normally, my opinions are dismissed without consideration. It’s strange to be speaking to someone from our world who sees me.”

That little bombshell catches me completely off guard. I step back, knocking into a small side table. A glass perched on the edge wobbles then falls and smashes on the floor. Both women’s eyes snap to me.

“Clumsy,” Isabella mutters to herself.

“He’s a man,” Tilly agrees. “Everything is meant to get out of his way.”

They both laugh, taking joy from poking at me and my uncharacteristic clumsiness. In the past, this would have annoyed me, but there’s no nastiness in their tone, only humor. Just then, Kasia comes running into the room, dustpan in hand. She scurries toward the smashed glass, dropping down to clear the mess.

“Stop, Kasia,” Isabella says, and she freezes. “Hunter is more than capable of cleaning up his own mess.”

I watch on in awe as my staff member stands and holds out the pan and brush in my direction. I look from her to Bella, who smirks. Tilly beside her tries badly to hide the grin plastered over her face, obviously enjoying the spectacle of me getting told what to do by my wife. Like a scolded schoolboy, I take the cleaning supplies and clear up the broken glass myself, then mop up the remnants of water with a cloth.

“You’re good,” Tilly says to Isabella as she watches on.

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