The Enemy Contract (Westbrook #2)

10. Hunter

Chapter 10

Hunter

T he wine cellar at Westbrook Meadows was more than a simple place to store wine. It was a sprawling cavern, complete with polished wood racks and dim lighting to set the mood. The temperature was always kept at a perfectly crisp fifty-five degrees—the perfect temperature to preserve a centuries-old vintage wine, or to terrify your son to his core.

I wasn’t sure why I’d been summoned to the estate yet again, but time would soon tell.

It was hard to tell what unsettled me more; the endless rows of priceless wine bottles or the sound of Mother’s heels clicking and echoing against the stone floor.

She stood in front of a wall of Burgundy, her posture rigid as she swirled a glass of something dark, red, and expensive.

Her expression was one of disappointment.

“So,” she began, now that we were alone in the wine cellar, “would you like to tell me why you were playing Romeo and Juliet on the balcony the other night?”

My stomach dropped and my jaw fell. “Mother, how could you possibly know about that?”

She took a sip of her wine with a look of self-satisfaction spreading on her face. “Darling, I know everything. Let’s just say I have… sources.”

I crossed my arms. “Are you having me followed?”

She completely ignored my question and instead lifted her glass into the air in front of the light as if to inspect it for flaws.

“God only knows what the two of you did when you went back inside the apartment and closed the blinds,” she scoffed.

“We didn’t do anything,” I lied.

“I’d like to make something clear,” she said, her tone sharp, “this little charade of ours is nothing more than a business arrangement. This is not a fairytale,” she drawled as she turned and glared at me. “And you’re not Prince Charming.”

“I’m not in love with Avery,” I snapped, much too quickly for it to be believable.

She arched one eyebrow, skepticism covering her face. “You think you’re not in love with him. But I’ve seen how you look at him, Hunter. And while I’m thrilled that you’re finally putting a little effort into this performance, I’m concerned that you might let reality blur the lines of the fiction we’re trying to spin.”

“Nothing is blurred,” I said, shifting uncomfortably under the weight of her gaze. “It’s fine, everything’s fine.”

“Fine?” she scoffed. “Darling, this is Charleston. I need more than just fine. I need captivating. But more importantly, dear, I need you to not fall in love with someone whose family fortune could barely afford a bottle of this.”

I glanced at the bottle she was referring to, a vintage that probably had a price tag that rivaled my car, if not more.

“You don’t need to worry,” I said.

Betsy’s eyes narrowed at me as she leaned forward. “Good. Because if I sense that this is spiraling into a real romance and jeopardizing this sale, I’ll spring into action.”

“What does that mean?”

Her voice dropped to an icy whisper. “It means, dear, that I’ve built this family’s legacy brick by brick, and I’m not going to sit back and watch it be dismantled by anyone. Especially for a fleeting attraction. You need to fix this, Hunter. Otherwise, I’m going to make fixing it my full-time job.”

Without giving me a moment to reply, she turned and walked up the stairs. I was left in the chilly, vast silence of the wine cellar with the weight of my mother’s words pressing against my chest.

The dock was quiet except for the occasional creaking sound of wooden planks beneath my feet mixed with the soft lapping of water.

Avery had agreed to meet me at the nearest dock so we could talk.

I knew no one would overhear us—or watch us—here.

The distant call of seagulls drifted in on a cool, salty breeze as I stood at the far end of the dock, waiting for him.

Sailboats bobbed in the distance; their white sails illuminated by moonlight.

Finally, I saw him walking toward me.

“You picked a hell of a spot,” he said, foggy mist surrounding him and encasing his words with an aura of mystique.

Even in the dim light from the streetlamp, he looked impossibly handsome.

“What’s the occasion, Hunter?” he asked, eyeing me suspiciously. “You finally whisking me away for a romantic vacation?”

“Not exactly,” I said with a sigh, running a hand through my air. “I just thought we could use a little privacy for this conversation, that’s all.”

He squinted at me and chuckled. “Well, that doesn’t sound ominous at all, Hunter. What’s going on?”

I grimaced as I braced myself. “Betsy’s concerned.”

Avery tilted his head and feigned shock. “When isn’t Betsy concerned?”

“She’s worried this is starting to look too real.”

“That’s rich,” he scoffed, taking one step closer, “coming from the queen of over-the-top, elaborate performances in front of her fawning audience.”

He was right.

But I needed to steel myself and tell him that we had to cool it. It wasn’t what I wanted, but it was what was needed.

“Avery,” I said, my eyes pleading with him, “you have to understand, these types of deals take months to finalize. If we let things get too personal, there’s a chance it could all fall apart. We have to treat it?—”

“Like a business transaction,” he said, finishing my thought for me.

I froze.

We were at the point where he could finish my sentences.

He scowled at me, his face contouring and showing his frustration. “Isn’t that what you were going to say?”

I looked out over the expanse of water, trying to figure out how to convince him.

“Both of us need this to go off without a hitch,” I said. “Once the deal is finalized, we’ll both have our financial futures secured, and?—”

“What do finances have to do with what’s happening between us?” Avery asked.

“We need to sell this performance,” I fired back. “This can’t get too real.”

“Whatever this is.” Avery studied me, his expression somewhere between curious and infuriated as his eyes searched my face for meaning in this decision.

“Avery—”

“It’s fine,” he said, turning away from me and shaking his head. “If that’s what you want, Hunter, I’ll follow your lead.”

Of course it wasn’t what I wanted. But it was what both of us needed.

“You know,” Avery said softly, his voice barely a whisper, “I’m a pretty good actor, too. I shouldn’t have to remind you of that. All along, Hunter, you’re the one who’s been making this feel real .”

His words shook me to my core, slicing through the control I’d tried to carefully maintain.

I thought I’d made it clear that my only concern was executing the deal and securing our financial futures. But Avery’s remark made it sound like he’d been faking all along. I wasn’t sure what was real and what was fake anymore.

Before I could reply, Avery turned away from me.

Without a single word, he walked back down the dock, away from me, his footsteps echoing off the old wooden planks.

“Avery, wait!” I called out, but he didn’t slow down.

His words had left me facing an undeniable truth: I wasn’t sure where the performance ended, and my real feelings began—and I had no idea how to figure it out.

As the cool evening mist engulfed me, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something important had slipped through my fingers.