Chapter 19 Adaline #2
He doesn’t ask out loud.
But the question is there, silent and steady. An unwavering connection where he understands me without speaking. I have never experienced that with a man before. Just looking into his eyes from across the room, and a slight nod, that he is here for me.
And something about that, about being understood without having to explain, makes my throat tighten.
Connor never did that. He watched me in crowds to make sure I was smiling the right amount.
Hunter watches me like he’s checking whether I’m safe.
The difference is a shock.
I tear my gaze away, forcing myself back into Aunt Jane’s orbit. She’s chatting with a group of women near a display table, her laugh bright, her hands expressive. Mrs. Lane stands beside her, looking proud and quietly pleased.
I should focus on them. On the reason we’re here, and the fact that, for once, I’m not performing.
But the edge of my nerves won’t let go.
“Adaline!” Aunt Jane calls, waving me closer. “Come meet someone.”
She steers me toward a tall man with friendly eyes and a smile that looks practiced only in the way good people learn to be approachable.
“Mark,” Aunt Jane says, patting his arm. “One of my favorite men in the world, don’t tell Hunter. And this is his wife, Nina.”
The woman beside him is elegant in a way that feels effortless, hair glossy, gown draped perfectly, earrings catching light whenever she moves.
“Hi,” Nina says warmly. “It’s so nice to finally meet you. Jane hasn’t stopped talking about you.”
A flush creeps up my neck. “Only good things, I hope.”
“Only glowing things,” Nina assures me.
Mark’s eyes flick past me, toward the room. “Where is he?”
“As if you can’t sense him,” Aunt Jane says dryly. “He’s somewhere pretending to tolerate people.”
Mark chuckles, and then Hunter appears at his side like he materialized out of shadow.
It’s ridiculous. He’s been in the room all night. He’s been near me all night.
But when he stands this close, clean and sharp in that tux, expression unreadable, eyes too intense, my heart responds like it’s been waiting.
“Mark,” Hunter says, giving him a firm handshake. Then he nods at Nina. “Nina.”
Nina smiles knowingly, like she’s known him long enough to see through him. Mark leans in, lowering his voice.
“We need five minutes. Council member from Ward Three is here. I want you to meet him.”
Hunter is in business mode instantly. He glances at Aunt Jane. “You okay?”
Aunt Jane swats at him. “Go. I’m not going to faint from boredom just because you’re talking permits.”
“Try not to intimidate anyone,” Nina adds, amused. Hunter’s mouth twitches like he’s fighting a smirk.
Then he looks at me. Not long.
Just a brief, assessing flick.
And my chest does that annoying, fluttering thing.
He turns back to Mark and walks away with him, already shifting into the version of himself everyone here seems to admire. The second they’re gone, the air around me feels… different. Not worse. Just quieter. Nina watches them disappear, then turns back to me with a bright, curious smile.
“So,” she says, like we’re swapping secrets over dessert. “How long have you two been together?”
My brain stutters.
“Together?” I repeat, stupidly. Nina laughs, as if I’m being coy.
“Oh, come on. He can try to look like a statue all night, but I saw the way he looked you.”
Heat rushes to my cheeks. “No—no, I’m—”
“Adaline is my caretaker,” Aunt Jane says brightly, as if she’s announcing a royal title. “And she’s staying.”
Nina’s eyebrows lift, interest sharpening. “Staying as in ?”
“Staying as in I adore her,” Aunt Jane says, patting my hand.
“Don’t interrogate her like you’re at one of Mark’s meetings.”
Nina holds up her hands. “Noted.”
Then she leans closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially.
“It’s just… Mark said Hunter told him he’s bringing an additional family member to our holiday dinner this year.”
A strange pulse starts in my throat.
“Additional family member?” I echo.
Nina nods. “Jane, Mrs. Lane, Liam… and someone else. I was wondering who that was.”
The room tilts a fraction. Family.
I glance across the room without thinking, searching for Hunter, and he’s already looking at me like he felt the exact moment those words hit.
As though he knows the shape of my feelings even from thirty feet away.
My lungs tighten. Because why would he say that?
Why would he include me in that sentence?
My heart beats too hard, too fast. The noise of the room swells, suddenly too much.
“I—excuse me,” I manage, forcing a smile that probably looks like pain.
“I just need the restroom. I’ll be right back.”
Aunt Jane starts to protest, but Mrs. Lane murmurs something soothing. Nina watches me with a soft, understanding look that makes my face burn hotter.
I weave through the crowd, heels clicking too loud, my thoughts tangled.
I reach the hallway leading to the restrooms and exhale, grateful for the quieter air.
And then my body locks. Because he’s there.
Connor.
Leaning against the wall like he belongs in every space he enters. Dark suit, perfect hair, that polished smile already forming as if he’s about to step into a camera frame.
My stomach drops, and for a split second, I consider turning around, disappearing back into the crowd. But he’s already looking at me.
Already tracking me like I’m something he wants to destroy.
“Addie,” he says softly, like my name is a private joke.
I don’t respond.
My spine goes straight. My chin lifts.
He pushes off the wall and steps closer. The hallway is dimmer than the ballroom, and the distance between us feels too intimate, too controlled.
“You run,” he murmurs, lips barely moving. “You hide. You think a tiny town and a rich man’s mansion can protect you.”
My blood turns cold.
“I’m not hiding,” I say, keeping my voice steady even as my pulse races. “I’m living.”
Connor’s smile tightens. “Cute.”
He leans in, just enough that anyone walking by would assume he’s whispering something romantic. His voice drops into something sharp.
“You’re going to come back,” he says. “You’re going to fix what you broke.”
“I didn’t break anything,” I whisper.
He laughs under his breath. “You embarrassed me. And now you’re playing little nursemaid.”
My throat constricts.
My fingers curl, nails digging into my palm. Connor’s smile returns, perfect and poisonous.
He tilts his head slightly. “Come back. We’ll spin it. You’ll fix my image and stand beside me again like the good fiancée you were supposed to be.”
My stomach turns.
Then his gaze shifts past my shoulder, toward the ballroom.
“And if you won’t come back,” Connor adds, voice softening into mock sympathy, “I’ll completely destroy your career and your life.”
My skin goes cold.
“I won’t let you do that,” I manage.
“Ah, looks like you have his support,” Connor says, his smile sharp and knowing.
His mouth curves. “Tell me, Addie… is your new conquest the billionaire?”
The word conquest makes bile rise in my throat.
And then a presence fills the hallway.
Solid, heavy, and unyielding.
Hunter.
He appears beside me like a wall being built in real time. His gaze flicks to my face first, not at Connor.
And the silent question in his eyes is sharper now.
Are you okay?
I can’t even answer.
Because Connor is still close, still smirking, and Hunter’s entire body goes rigid with restrained violence.
“Step back,” Hunter says, voice low.
Connor’s brows lift, amused. “Ah. There he is.”
Hunter moves forward, placing himself fully between us. I’m suddenly behind him, blocked from Connor’s line of sight.
Protected.
Connor chuckles. “Relax, Rexon. I was just catching up with my fiancée.”
My jaw clenches. “Ex-fiancée.”
Connor’s eyes flash, brief, sharp. Hunter doesn’t move.
“You’re done,” Hunter says firmly.
Hunter’s shoulders tighten. Connor continues, voice dipping into something low and suggestive.
“Is that what this is, Rexon? She traded up?”
The air snaps.
Hunter’s fist moves so fast I barely register it.
A crack echoes through the hallway, sharp and final. Connor staggers back, hand flying to his face, shock splintering his expression. Gasps erupt nearby.
Someone shouts. Footsteps rush.
Mark appears like a thunderstorm, eyes widening as he takes in the scene. “Hunter—what the hell—”
Connor spits something sharp, furious, but Mark is already turning, barking at security. “Get him out. Now.”
Two security guards appear immediately, grabbing Connor by the arms.
Connor glares at me over their shoulders, eyes wild as he hisses something, I can’t even hear over my beating heart.
He’s dragged away, still protesting, the ballroom noise swallowing his rage as the hallway swallows the aftermath.
My knees feel weak, my throat burns. Hunter turns around.
The noise rushes back in, voices, footsteps, the clink of glass, but all I can feel is the way my knees threaten to give out.
Anger is still blazing through him, but beneath it, something else flickers. Something sharp with worry.
His hand finds my elbow, fingers firm but gentle.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
The question hits harder than Connor’s threat. Hunter is still breathing hard.
Still vibrating with protective fury. And his touch is grounding me in a way I don’t know how to handle.
I nod, because words won’t come. Because if I open my mouth, I might shatter.
Hunter’s thumb shifts against my elbow, a tiny squeeze.
And I’m left standing there, shaken and safe, staring at a man who just punched my past out of my way.
The ballroom is back to how it was before the fight. People begin to pretend they didn’t just watch a billionaire throw a punch in a fundraiser hallway.
The way Hunter’s eyes searched mine first. The way his body moved like my safety mattered more than his reputation.
One truth settles in my chest like a storm cloud. Hunter’s protectiveness doesn’t just confuse me. It pulls me, and I don’t know how to stop leaning into it.