Chapter 42 #2
I let him console himself by holding me close for a few more seconds. Then someone yells for us to get on the bus. We hurry to climb aboard, but Hunter is in caveman mode. He makes me sit on his lap and won’t even let me talk to Jett when his brother tries to tease me for being too needy.
“Fuck off!” Hux grates, pulling me further into his lap and cradling my head close to his chest. “No one talks to us for the rest of the night.”
Because I know he’s a wounded animal, I stay close, not resisting his possessiveness. He needs to protect me today, and I need him to feel satisfied by that.
* * *
A few days later, we’re sitting in the team’s legal offices. The conference room feels like a tomb as the lawyers lay out everything. Financial documents, bank records, email threads showing the systematic way Darla isolated Hunter from other advisors.
The scope is staggering. Not just the money she stole, but the forged documents, the shell companies, the way she manipulated a teenager who trusted her. There is a lot of proof that she tried to do the same with Jett and Silas, too.
“The evidence is substantial.” Marilyn Adams, the team’s lead attorney, smiles grimly. “We can file for a restraining order immediately. The criminal charges will take longer to process, but given the dollar amounts involved...”
“She could go to prison.” Hunter’s voice is flat.
“She could, yes. If that’s what you want to pursue.”
Hunter stares at the papers in front of him, at the proof of his mother’s betrayal laid out in black and white. It’s a number north of two million dollars.
“I want to move forward with both the restraining order and the criminal charges. My mom threatened Juliet. She can’t just be out there, allowed to roam free, plotting ways to hurt us.”
“I think that’s a wise decision.” Marilyn clasps her hands.
“Of course, we don’t have discretion over criminal charges.
We’ll take our evidence to the district attorney, and they will make up their own minds.
But I think we have a powerful case.” Her eyes twinkle.
“And the team has always bankrolled the DA’s election ambitions.
I’ll work that into the conversation if I need to. ”
“Thank you so much,” I say. I look at Hunter, who looks haunted. “Obviously, Hunter is making a really tough decision here, but I’m sure he’s thankful to you, too.”
“Don’t thank me.” Her smile is sharp enough to cut. “I live for this stuff.”
Hunter grunts, standing. “Let us know if you need anything.”
I grab his hand, lacing our fingers together as we exit. We’re making steps. Big, decisive steps. And it feels momentous.
In the car afterward, Hunter is quiet for a long time.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
“I will be. This is the right thing to do.”
“Even if it means she goes to prison?”
“Especially if it means she goes to prison. Maybe that’s what it takes for her to understand that actions have consequences.”
He reaches over and takes my hand.
“Thank you for being there today. For handling her at the game. I’m blown away that you haven’t run for the hills yet.”
“Where else would I be?”
“I don’t know. But I’m grateful you are here anyway.”
I put my hand on his leg, content, as he pulls out of the parking lot.
* * *
That afternoon, Jimbo Greene surprises me by showing up in the PR offices. I glance up and am quite startled by his sudden appearance.
“Oh! Mr. Greene!” I shove myself up as I shut the laptop I was gazing at. “I didn’t know you would be here today.”
“Please.” His eyes twinkle and he waves me down. “Call me Jimbo.”
I clear my throat. “Sure, Mr. Greene. I mean… Jimbo. What can I do for you?”
“Outstanding work this season, Juliet,” he says. “Hunter’s transformation has been remarkable. A lot of that credit goes to you.”
My stomach twists at the public praise. I’ve never been comfortable in the spotlight, preferring to work behind the scenes.
“Thank you, sir. Hunter’s done all the hard work himself.”
“Maybe. But everyone needs someone in their corner.” He pauses. “Which brings me to why I wanted to talk to you. How would you feel about taking over the entire PR department?”
I blink. “What?”
“Director level. Your own team. Full budget authority. Significant salary increase.” He studies my reaction. “You’ve proven you can handle crisis management and long-term strategy. We’d like to make this official.”
The offer hits me like a physical blow. Everything I’ve worked for, everything I’ve wanted, handed to me on a silver platter.
“I...” Tears spring to my eyes before I can stop them. “Yes. I’d work my butt off for this team, sir.”
Jimbo looks startled when I hug him. He allows it for exactly one second before stepping back.
“Good. We’ll discuss details next week.”
I spend the rest of practice in a daze. Ignoring my laptop, I head down to watch the guys practice. Hunter plays with such sharp focus and intensity; I stare vacantly as I process what just happened.
I got the promotion. The recognition. The validation that my work matters. I want to shout to the rafters if I didn’t think it would interrupt the players on the ice. I’m buzzing.
When Hunter emerges from the locker room, I’m waiting for him, like always.
“How was practice?” I ask.
“Good.” He studies my expression. “You look like you have news.”
“Jimbo offered me the PR director position.”
Hunter stops walking and turns to face me fully. His face lights up. “Juliet, that’s incredible. Congratulations.”
“Thank you.”
“You deserve this. You’ve worked so hard.”
He kisses me right there in the hallway, not caring who sees. Not that we’ve ever hidden our so-called relationship, exactly. But there are no cameras around today. When we break apart, he’s looking at me like I hung the moon. “I’m proud of you.”
“I’m proud of us.”
That night, we celebrate with takeout, two episodes of Detective Saga, and cheap wine on the couch. Hunter scribbles in while I read through the preliminary job description Jimbo sent over.
“This is everything you wanted, isn’t it?” He doesn’t look up from whatever he’s working on.
“It is.” I cock my head. “Are you worried I’ll change? Get too busy for this? Because I won’t. I promise.”
“No. I’m excited to watch you run things. You’re going to be incredible at it.” The simple confidence in his voice makes my chest warm.
“What are you drawing?” I ask.
He shows me the sketch. It’s me, curled up on the couch with paperwork scattered around me, completely absorbed in reading. He’s captured something in my expression I didn’t know I had. Determination, maybe. Or just contentment.
“You make me look beautiful.” I say.
“I just draw what I see.”
My heart hums and I have to kiss him after that. How could I not?