I nod in agreeance. “You look stunning, Kathy.”
“Thank you, girls.” She smiles, spinning around to show off. “It’s a charity event. Of course, Hunter is running late.”
My lips turn upward into a forced smile, ignoring the sweat forming in my palms. I remember what Will said, but I don’t believe him. Kathy is beautiful, and Hunterisa man. Surely, he can see the beauty, and given she is his wife, he has to be fucking her. It’s expected, given they share the same bed.
Suddenly, I bow my head in humiliation. What the hell am I thinking teasing a man like him?
“I better go,” I tell them, then grab my purse off the bed. “Have a good night, Kathy.”
“You too, Sweetheart.”
I practically race out of the room, and house, fumbling in my purse for my keys. I’m standing next to the driver’s door, still attempting to find my keys which annoys me, given my purse barely holds anything.
A hand grips my arm, causing me to jump in shock.
“You’re coming with me,” Hunter bellows.
“Are you crazy?” I barely manage, out of breath. “I have someone to meet.”
“Over my dead body.”
He begins to walk and demands I get into his car. I do so but make it obvious I’m annoyed. Without even hesitating, he starts the ignition and revs the engine.
“Where are you taking me? Kathy just said—”
“My place.”
* * *
It was only a fifteen-minute drive to the apartment complex, where Hunter apparently owned the penthouse. I stayed quiet for the car ride and just stared out the window.
I’ve been in my fair share of penthouses, given my parents own a number of them. It’s nice, for sure, with windows everywhere and views of downtown LA.
The furniture is modern, but the place looks like a showroom more than someone living here.
“Nice place,” I mention, looking around. “Big. So, is this your man pad? I don’t understand.”
Hunter places his keys on the kitchen countertop with an amused expression.
“I guess you’re used to living the luxurious life. This is where I stay unless I’m needed at the house.”
“Wait, so you live here?”
“Yes, Alexandra. Is that a problem?”
“It’s just … your wife lives in another house.”
“That she does.”
Hunter pours himself a drink that looks like bourbon or something of that caliber. It’s clear by his close-ended answers, I’m not going to get much more out of him tonight.
I place my purse on the countertop, watching him enjoy his beverage. “So, you don’t offer your guest a drink?”
“I’ll offer my guest a non-alcoholic drink. I don’t want you to drink and regret anything.”
His liquor cabinet is right next to him. I walk over, even though it means I have to stand right next to him. There are multiple bottles, but I spot the vodka. Unscrewing the lid, I don’t hesitate and take a long sip until it burns. Hunter wraps his hand around the bottle, pulling it from me. A few drops spill down my chest, dripping between my breasts.
“You’re wet,” he whispers.