Page 79 of Reckless Desire

I can trust him.

My heartbeat jumps in a violent rhythm. Butterflies flutter in my stomach as I recognize the feeling I’ve been pushing aside for what it really is.

I’m in love with Hunter Stuart. Suddenly I feel—I know—I have to tell him immediately. I don’t even care if he doesn’t say it back. He’s been so patient with me, and I want him to know.

I return to the ballroom and scan it to find him. Massi and Gio are chatting at the bar. London stands alone in the corner, which is odd given her role as the hostess. I examine her closer and follow her gaze, or to be honest, her glower.

James Bond, her neighbor, leans casually on the other side of the bar, meeting her glare with a smile on his face. Oh my.

I cross the floor to join her. “Have you seen Hunter?”

“What?” She jumps, as if surprised there are other people around. “Hunter? I think I saw him somewhere…” She points to the dance floor. “There he is.”

I spot him immediately, and my determination to declare my love to him right here and now tempers. He is dancing with someone. His shoulders are tense, but the woman is smiling and looking at him like he was the last man alive.

She might be dressed to the nines, but the venom veil is palpable from afar. “Is that—”

“Oh, shit,” London says. “Gigi Lafontaine. Is she a former… never mind. I’m going to break it off.” London ambles to the dance floor and elegantly extracts Hunter from the other woman.

Gigi frowns, but turns with her chin up. Our eyes meet, and while I’m ridden with insecurity and, truthfully, a dose of jealousy, she smiles at me with poisonous triumph.

ChapterTwenty-Six

Hunter

The new posh bistro is designed all in white and green, almost too bright for an evening in the city. Yet, it’s inviting and promises a wonderful experience.

I will never come here again.

Tonight’s visit—my first and only—will forever be tainted because of my company. I don’t hurry to the hostess stand. I’m late already, but part of me, almost all of me, wants to turn around and leave.

I can’t delay for too long because Gigi spots me and waves. My jaw has been so tense all day that I might need enamel replacement.

When I contacted London about the tickets to the fundraiser, I knew there was a possibility I could run into one of my former clients. But fucking Gigi. Our conversation from the gala has run through my head since that night.

Even now, the memory of her vicious smile sends a shiver down my spine.

“You announce that TV show,” she told me as we danced, “and I’ll let the world know about your former extracurricular activities.”

“What do you have to gain from that, Gigi?” I asked, hoping nobody would pick up on the unfortunate exchange.

“That’s the wrong question, Stuart. You should be asking what would prevent me from doing it?”

I’ve never hit a woman before, but I wanted to wipe that entitled smirk from her face with my palm.

“You look like you’ve made up your mind already,” I told her.

“Maybe a weekend in your company would be incentive enough. Or perhaps I should talk to Delaney Rielski. We go to the same fitness club.”

Fucking Ash. Did he tell her about the TV show? How else would she know?

“You think you can threaten me into a date with you?” I moved around with her, my spine rigid, touching her waist as delicately as I would barbed wire.

“If not Delaney, maybe that ordinary brunette would like to know? Or your daughter?”

Sydney knows about my past, but no chance I’d let that snake near my daughter. I wouldn’t want Gigi to talk to anyone close to me.

“Are you surprised I know so much about you?” She made a grimace, attempting to smile. “Here is the thing, Stuart. People only leave me when I allow it. Not the other way around. Decide by Friday and join me at seven at this new bistro everyone raves about. I’ll text you the details,” she said before London wrenched me out of her hold.

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