Flawed (Hunt Brothers Saga)

by Timothy S. Allen

  “You know the way to my heart is through my stomach,” I said.

  “Well, it’s through someplace else, but that’s the second best path.”

  And she’s got a sense of humor. Man, I really hit the jackpot.

  Don’t fuck this one up, Chance.

  Like you would be fucking her over on the deal...

  “Chance?”

  I lurched out of my thoughts, realizing that I had spent the last several seconds in them instead of answering them. Such was the extent of my own conscience questioning what I had done with the deal for her father’s company that I couldn’t even focus on answering her. The question of my feelings coming up was now not a matter of if but when.

  “Sorry, just thinking about stuff, meaning work,” I said, not sure that that was any better. “It’s hard to focus, sorry.”

  “It’s OK, we’ve had a lot going on and we’re nearing the end of the dealing period,” she said. “Although I am surprised, usually you’re so good at keeping your focus.”

  “Yeah, well, the closer we get, the more I think about it.”

  Think about how you’re too Edwin Hunt and not enough Chance Hunt right now, and you know it.

  We sat down and I turned on some Chris Rock special on Netflix, but I barely ate and I barely laughed while Layla got a kick out of both the food and the comedy. She laughed her ass off, and while I enjoyed that she found it funny, it just left me thinking that she wouldn’t be laughing her ass off when she discovered how badly her family got screwed in the deal. She’d be laughing even less when she made the obvious connection to the fact that I was the one who had negotiated that deal, even if our lawyers had created the fine line details.

  “Chance,” she finally said at one point, going so far as to pause the program. “What’s going on? I know something is bugging you. Just tell me instead of being so distant and coy.”

  It was time. It felt right. It felt... ethical.

  “The deal you guys have with us, it’s not... it’s not fair to you.”

  I spoke as quickly as I could, as if trying to spit poison out of my mouth. Which, in a way, I was—the poison of greed and lust for money that Mr. Hunt had burrowed deep into my skull.

  “I was taught by my adoptive father, Mr. Hunt, to take, take, and take. Mr. Burnson more or less did the same. But you guys undervalued your company. Specifically, you failed to forecast future earnings at the rate you could have gotten away with, and the percentage of market share you could acquire you also undersold. You can do so much better than the deal we—I—gave you. Layla, I just... I...”

  It didn’t feel right to say “I love you” right there, so I went silent. Layla deserved the chance to respond to what I had just said, the kind of admission that would get me fired at most investment firms but the kind that I felt ethically bound to make if I would say those three words just a short while later.

  Layla just sat and stared at me for the longest time. I would have killed for even just a couple of seconds in glancing inside her mind to know what she was thinking. Anyone with any modicum of business sense would have danced their way back to their office, informed their superior, and used the knowledge to their advantage. The person might get fired, but that was a small price to pay—and one that the winner wouldn’t pay—for the gained knowledge.

  Hell, even a high schooler would take advantage of it.

  But I trusted—perhaps foolishly, but I nevertheless did—Layla that she understood why I was doing this. Or at the very least, if she didn’t, she would not fuck me over.

  “Why did you tell me that,” she said.

  Her voice sounded weak, as if she knew the truth but hated it. I hated it too, in a way. I knew that the likelihood of heartbreak had increased tenfold by this, but now...

  “Because it’s right.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “Because I love you, damnit.”

  Layla gasped and leaned back. I gulped. No turning back now. It’s too late.

  “I can’t stand to see you screwed over. I’m not going to screw myself or Burnson, but I don’t want you to lose as you will this deal. Maybe that’s career suicide, I don’t know. But I know that I love you, Layla, and I choose love over business. Edwin Hunt might stab me and hang me on public display if he heard that, but...”

  More silence. The genie was out of the bottle. The horse was out of the barn. I was never bringing what I had said back. Frankly, the best case scenario, oddly enough, was for Layla to just quietly change the deal and force Burnson to negotiate down closer to her. But how would that ever happen without him realizing it?

  Well, then again, for all the golf he plays...

  “Say what you just said again,” she said. “I need to know what I heard.”

  I gulped, and I did. I repeated everything—how they were getting screwed, that I loved her, and that business took a back seat to love.

  “You mean everything you say?” she said.

  “Unconditionally.”

  There was a half-second pause before she jumped on me and began kissing me. What started as a fiery, animalistic tackle, though, quickly became... almost painfully emotional.

  We kissed like we would never kiss after that night. We stayed in each other’s arms, refusing to ever drift out of eye contact. I had had some intensely passionate sex before and some wild sex with Layla, but this...

  It was very different. It was almost too much to handle, but for Layla, I swore to take it.

  Her eyes never left mine. Sex almost became an afterthought—what we experienced felt like a spiritual connection, the kind where two minds become one. I could see the pain in Layla’s eyes, the trouble of heavy burden, and everything that followed. She could see my hesitation in love, and how much courage it had taken me to admit what I had. She saw the grief I had gone through, and I could see her heartbreak.

  Finishing felt less like a physical reward than an emotional one. As corny as it sounds, I got choked up when I looked into my eyes after finishing. I kissed her gently, like I wanted nothing bad to ever happen to her, and that’s because I really didn’t. Even at the risk of my own career, I never wanted her to get hurt.

  When she lay beside me, she did something expected in the moment but unexpected just twenty minutes before.

  She began to cry.

  “Do you wanna talk about it?”

  I knew she wasn’t OK. What we had just experienced went far beyond words and feelings. To say “I’m OK” was a lie, because even if nothing business-related had popped up tonight, what we had just went through would disturb and unsettle even the calmest of souls.

  “I don’t wanna... I can’t talk about it right now.”

  She sniffled some and I pulled her in even closer.

  “Just... promise me that what you said is real.”

  “Of course,” I said, wondering how it could not be.

  “No, I mean it, Chance,” she said. “Promise me that you love me, no matter what.”

  I had no idea why she was asking that question, and it left me a bit uncomfortable that she had to ask it. But I wouldn’t have said those words if they were anything but unconditional. And nothing meant unconditional quite like “no matter what.”

  “I promise, Layla Taylor,” I said, kissing her on the forehead. “I love you.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Two Years Ago

  Christmas had come for us once more, and as was custom, the Hunts would get to go to a gala and an expensive auction with all of their other rich friends in the Connecticut and the New York area.

  And, as was custom, because I wasn’t a real Hunt, I didn’t get to go.

  My status as an adopted son, as opposed to Morgan, a real son, rarely manifested itself in real life. The emotional and mental scars were real, and I would never quite move past it, but being excluded practically rarely unfolded in such an obvious manner. The yearly Christmas gala, however, was one such example.

  “Trust me, Chance,” Morgan said as he put on hi
s dress socks. “You have it good. Do you think I want to go to this ridiculous event? I’m just going to shake hands, hear people tell me I’m growing into a fine young man, smile, and then wish I was back at Columbia doing shots at a party.”

  “Don’t be a shithead, Morgan,” I said with a wave of my hand... although I actually didn’t mind not going. It felt too stuffy and ridiculous for my own personal tastes. “You never know which of these people will someday be your boss.”

  “Uhh, now you don’t need to be ridiculous, my future boss is on the other side of this place getting ready with Mom,” he said with an eye roll. “You really think the old man would let me go anywhere else?”

  “Probably not,” I said. “Good thing I have that flexibility.”

  “Yeah, thanks,” Morgan said. “Lucky bastard.”

  “Hey, just remember, you can drink now,” I said, as if a professor revealing a grand secret to a student. “And you know what? You can get a hotel room now! Just remember, though, if you wind up with some pretty broad, don’t take her back to the manor. Take her back to Columbia or a nice hotel room.”

  “Please, who do you think I am?”

  “I’m serious, man, your room isn’t that far from me. You fuck it up and you’re gonna have messy clothes everywhere, if you know what I mean.”

  “Gross,” Morgan said, but he laughed with it. “Still, you’ll have fun. You literally have the place to yourself.”

  It was true. The whole thing was ostentatious, ridiculous, unnecessary...

  And, well...

  Honestly, I was a little jealous. The gala itself was all of those things, but the ability to meet successful people from all walks of life was not. I had grown to resent Mr. Hunt’s obsession with money and power and seen it as a sign of weakness that he didn’t have his priorities in the right place, but I could not argue (nor did I want to) with the power of his network. If I could have had a network half as strong as his, I knew I would never have to worry about money.

  If going to absurd galas with expensive and unneeded decorations was part of the price, well, so be it.

  “Someday, you’ll have to go to these too,” Morgan said. “And when you do, you’ll realize they suck.”

  “Not if I’m there as a guest of honor,” I said.

  Morgan looked up, a grin on his face, as if I had just uncovered the secret of the universe.

  “I like the way you think,” he said. “Whoever makes it first, the other has to come to their gala.”

  “Deal,” I said, shaking his hand so quickly I had basically bound my soul to the deal.

  Present Day

  LOOKS LIKE I WON THIS one, Morgan!

  I looked down at the invitation to the gala, written in fancy, high-end cursive by Craig Taylor. This gala would be the chance for the Taylors to publicly announce their newest investment. The investor would get a chance to speak, along with Craig Taylor.

  That means me.

  That means... me.

  Hah! I told you Craig.

  Life could not have felt any better. Sitting in that office in the back corner, for once in my life, I wasn’t tossing a ball up in the air at some point made of outdated business materials because of what I was looking at right now.

  The only odd part was that I had never signed anything, but I guess that didn’t matter too much. We had an agreement in principle, and as far as I could tell, Layla had also taken the high road. Perhaps she would “get it back” at a future negotiation or something, but in any case, I had never heard a word from Craig about the deal.

  Well, I could say I had done my part. I had not only closed the deal, I had made the partner aware of all of the potential trouble spots. If that wasn’t the sign of thorough business work, nothing would.

  A knock came at my door.

  And, for perhaps the first time ever, someone came in without even asking.

  I couldn’t say anything, though, because it was John Burnson. Thank God this didn’t happen about a month ago.

  “Great news, boy!” he said. “You saw the invite to this event, right?”

  “Of course,” I said, grinning without any sense of putting on a pretty face. My grin was as sincere as my words. “I can’t wait!”

  “This all but means the deal is done! And I have to say, I was a little pissed when I found out you took control of this deal, young Chance, but boy have you proved me wrong!”

  I practically expected him to let out a “yeehaw” he looked so damn excited.

  “You’re on your way to great things, son,” he said. Terrible that only he would call me son and not my adopted father. “Once this is all done, we’re going to get you promoted to director of something here. And before you know it, you may even be a partner. What you’ve done here for an intern is something to be very proud of, and I hope you are.”

  “Oh, I am,” I said, beaming.

  “Good, because you’ll probably need to speak at this gala.”

  I felt a tinge of nervousness at that, given that Morgan would be there and, by extent, the rest of my family, but I didn’t mind one bit. If it meant I won my bet with Morgan and that I had won Layla’s heart despite all my misgivings about the deal, well, public speaking was a small price for Chance Hunt to pay.

  Plus, it would mean that my name, not the Hunt name, would be the one attached to this deal. Oh, I didn’t intend to use my birth last name by any means—that was too much of a slap in the face of Morgan and Mrs. Hunt—but the name Chance would take precedence over Hunt. Hunt Industries didn’t close this deal. Chance did.

  “Whatever I need to do, sir,” I said.

  “That’s the spirit I like to hear and I’ll bet that’s what got us this deal!”

  Burnson finally left, going down to the next office and spreading the word. I even heard him drop my name, which made me realize he wasn’t kidding. He might actually be promoting me for all that I had accomplished. I might actually get true recognition for what I had done. Certainly, within the company, I had accomplished something incredible.

  My vision for the future was finally coming true. I had proved to myself that I could make a name for myself without relying on my family name. I’d be lying and disingenuous if I said my family name played no role in landing me at Burnson Investments, but everything I had done since had gotten me to this point. I alone had been the captain of my ship—it just so happened the ship bore the same name as the harbor from which it came from.

  I heard another knock at the door, but this time, it came from someone I was much more interested in seeing.

  “Come back for more business?” I said, knowing full well what Layla meant.

  “Ha, ha,” she said slowly, shutting the door. “No. We can do that at your place anytime.”

  “Well, speaking of my place, it would make for a great after-party following this,” I said, holding up my invitation. “But it would make an even better after-party if I had a plus one. Hmm, if only I had someone I could bring along to this. Hmm. And if only such a person were standing in front of me in a way that I could ask them.”

  Layla laughed but noticeably stayed on the other side of the desk from me.

  “You want to go as my date when my father will be there, Chance? Knowing you, you’d try and fuck me on the mic stand.”

  “That’s... more true than it should be,” I said with a chuckle.

  “Listen, I came over to drop some last second files off—no, really—but I should address that. I have to go alone. I just have to.”

  “I get it,” I said. As long as she wasn’t bringing along some ex-boyfriend or some hotshot business partner, I could live with her being alone.

  “Just know mentally, you are my date and I am your date, OK?” she said, smiling. “We have to keep up appearances to a certain extent, but once the gala ends... well, I won’t be keeping this up.”

  My eyes widened. The temptation to grab her, lift her up, pull her to my side of the desk, and have my way with her was rather strong. But today, wit
h John Burnson making the rounds, the last thing I needed was some scandal ruining it all. Come to think of it, even shutting the door in this context might have seemed weird.

  “I’ll see you there, OK?” Layla said with a wink.

  “Oh, without a doubt,” I said.

  She blew a kiss to me, I blew a kiss back, and she exited quickly. No sex this time. No office shenanigans.

  But something much better than that. Security.

  “Without a doubt.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  As I slid into the tuxedo that I had rented for the evening, one that would have cost so much money to buy I could have used the funds to buy a car, I could not believe my good fortune.

  It had felt real when I had seen the envelope inviting me to the gala, but tonight, with my ride over just about five minutes away... well, this felt surreal.

  We were about to close on an eight-figure deal, something I had never even come close to working on. No, I was about to close on an eight-figure deal; Burnson, by the way he had spoken to me earlier, seemed more than willing to pass off the credit to me. I’m sure he would say something for himself at the gala, but the fact that I would get to speak meant I would have my chance in the spotlight.

  With this new success and notoriety, I would be able to launch my own firm. I would have a name in business, I could use this to branch off to other fields, and I could start to build my network as early as tonight. No longer would I see galas and balls like this as absurd indulgences of the rich but a massively delightful chance to partake in the building of relationships with highly successful people.

  And, best of all... Layla.

  What more could I say? We’d have to keep up appearances tonight, sure. I couldn’t go up and kiss her, not with her father and my adoptive parents staring at both of us. I’m sure a hug would suffice, although even that might have carried some risks. But once we survived those “awful” four hours... she was mine. She’d be back at my place in no time. And we’d be back to being like animals.