Accidental Romeo: A Marriage Mistake Romance

by Snow, Nicole

  They've been moved into local hotels for the next week, at Hunter's expense. Oh, and of course his donation will remain anonymous as requested.

  “Happy to hear it, Officer,” Hunter says, eerily calm, like what he's done is nothing. “Thanks for your call.”

  “You’re welcome, Mr. Forsythe. And Merry Christmas.”

  “Merry Christmas.”

  Merry. Freaking. Christmas.

  I can't believe this man. This insane, kind hearted, world-fixer.

  I’m staring at him with my mouth hanging open as the call ends.

  “What's up?” He shoots me a sideways glance, blue eyes sparkling like tinsel.

  “That's...I think that's the most generous thing I’ve ever heard of. Who are you, Hunter?” Once again, I’m reminded how far out of his league I am.

  Jesus.

  I mean, hotel rooms. Nice ones. For all those people, well over two dozen, had to have cost more than I make in months.

  He reaches over and squeezes my hand. “I'm the guy who's damn glad you're okay.”

  “I am. And we really should go get my car so you don’t have to be my chauffeur.”

  “It's nothing, babe.” He let go of my hand to steer around the corner. “We'll grab it later. We don’t have time to get your car now. We have to be at the hotel in less than an hour for Landmark.”

  Oh, crap. The party. Right.

  In the insanity of the past twenty-four hours, I'd almost forgotten.

  * * *

  Take every lame office holiday Christmas party you've ever been to. Then forget it.

  Landmark Defense's Christmas party isn't even in the same universe.

  It's in downtown Minneapolis in a massive luxury hotel that has the whole Scandinavian soul thing going. Birch trees everywhere, antique sleds on the ceiling, dark-gray brick walls, and more fires blazing in hearths than I can even count.

  The ballroom must be as big as where we had Rochelle's wedding, and there are probably ten times as many people. I’m not a nervous person, but I am tonight.

  All eyes are on me because people are curious as to who that woman is at their CEO's side.

  That’s as obvious as the nose on my face. I get a sense of how he must have felt at Rochelle’s wedding now, and know he handled it much better than I’m dealing with this.

  Heck, I can’t even remember the small handful of people he’s introduced me to.

  “Should we find a table?” he asks, after we’ve mingled in the crowd for well over an hour. “Dinner's coming up real soon. And more refreshments.”

  There's that cunning charm. A smile. A wink. A whiskey tumbler raised in his big hand with a gentle shake.

  I nod, clutching onto his arm tighter. “If you want.”

  He gestures toward the nearest one. “How about here?”

  Joy fills me as I see who's there. It's Stacy and Josh sitting at the table, already waving to us.

  “Do you mind?” I hadn’t asked them if they'd be here and I'm so glad to see a familiar face.

  “Be my guest, Sugar.” He releases me, keeping a knowing hand on the small of my back.

  Stacy, even more plump than she was a few weeks ago, gives me a hug as we arrive. “You look gorgeous!” she says. “I love that dress.”

  “Thank you.” The dress is beautiful. A shimmering hunter green, with a black-bead yoke and fitted waist. “Hunter picked it out. I wouldn’t have looked twice at it, but then I tried it on, and voila!”

  We both laugh, and then Josh gives me a hug.

  I squeeze him back, remembering why they're here tonight. “How’s the new job going?”

  “Fantastic. I really like it. Living out my spy movie fantasies geeking it out for a major defense company.” He reaches over, shaking Hunter’s hand with the world's biggest grin. “Thanks so much, Mr. Forsythe. Seriously. You saved my Christmas.”

  Hunter nods politely and gestures at the chairs. “Mind if we join you? I'd love to hear all about your first week.”

  “Sure thing!” Josh says.

  I can practically see his nonexistent tail wagging and smile like a fool.

  Stace and I talk about their girls and the new baby to come, while the guys talk shop, until a man approaches the table.

  At first, I don't recognize him. He’s wearing a turtleneck shirt and suit jacket, hair tied back. Maybe that's why he doesn’t look quite as scary as he did in Hunter’s kitchen.

  Still, the cautious glance he casts my way when Hunter isn’t looking tells me his pal Sloan likes me about as much as I like him.

  Maybe it isn't fair. I’ve only met him the once, and we didn't hit it off, but...he saved Hunter's life, didn't he? And Ben's?

  How could a man who's brought so much joy into my life by keeping my two favorite people alive be all bad?

  “Hey, Bud,” he says, slapping Hunter on his shoulder. “Where's my medal? I'm actually on time. Just so you’re aware, I have places saved for you over by the executive team table. Your lady, too.”

  He nods and looks my way. His eyes are dark, but warm, waiting. I smile back, somewhat more at ease. “That's very kind of you. Maybe after we catch up in a little bit, we'll head over.”

  “Nonsense, Sugar, we’ll stay here,” Hunter answers. “Give my best to the boys and girls, Sloan. I'll be over in a bit just to say hello.”

  Sloan stands there, a smile on his face that looks painted on. “You sure?”

  I lay a hand on Hunter's knee, lean in, and whisper. “Hey, we don’t have to spend all night with Stace and Josh. This is your event.”

  He covers my hand with his and pushes his lips to my ear. “It's nothing, babe. Can't have you nervous. You need a couple friendly faces. Besides, there's nothing I'd get at the exec table except half a dozen people in a race to kiss my ass the most.”

  He turns to Sloan. “We'll set up here for the night. Like I said, I'll make the rounds later. Keep 'em company. Oh, and be sure to make sure Sally O'Dulass doesn't get hammered again this year. Had to send that poor intern she dragged home last year out to California to salvage his ego. And her poor husband...”

  Sloan winces. “Yeah, fuck, good point. I'll make sure. What a shitshow that was. But first...”

  I'm still giggling into my hand over the crazy office affair when Sloan pulls out the chair on Hunter’s other side. “I don’t think we’ve been introduced. Not properly. I’m Sloan Morgan, the CSO and Chief Executive Assistant.”

  “Wendy,” I say, holding out my hand. “We met. Once. Briefly. Sorry it was kinda weird.”

  “It's nothing, doll. You're a real special piece. Real nice for Hunter, I mean. I'm happy he's happy and you're happy and – what's the old saying? – everybody's happy!”

  Hunter nods, then waves to Stacy and Josh. “Say hello to your department's new hire. Josh works in IT, our new lead on special projects.”

  “I know. We’ve met.”

  Sloan's jovial smile wilts. His voice is so cold, a shiver ripples down my spine.

  The nervous look between Stacy and Josh makes me wonder if things are going as well as Josh let on. I hope it's just my imagination.

  “You alone?” Hunter asks Sloan.

  “Nah, not this time.” He glances around the room, his eyes scanning, then he smiles when they land on a leggy brunette in the lowest top here. “I brought some chick I met a while ago. Got her all dolled up and everything for the party tonight.” He elbows Hunter, leaning in for a whisper I can still hear. “You know how it is. Gonna deck those fuckin' halls and fa-la-la-la-la her eyes back in her head real sweet later.”

  Gross. Hero or not, I knew there was a reason I don't like him. It's a struggle just to hold my tongue.

  He’s an ass. A creepy-ass womanizer. And he continues to be one long after he slinks away, after Hunter warns him to behave and shoots him a scornful look.

  He never really says anything directly to me the rest of the evening, but every other time he comes back to our table and opens his mouth, a sly innuendo falls out
that I just know is about me or someone else.

  His chick isn’t so bad. In fact, I feel sorry for her. She's a shy, in-over-her-head model type who makes pleasant small talk when she joins us later.

  Incredibly, he doesn't reign it in for her. He keeps cracking jokes that have Josh coughing into his hand, while Stacy looks like she's about to drop dead. And I just might join her.

  The only time he’s remotely pleasant is when he asks about Ben. “I'm gonna have to stop the hell by that Midnight Morning place one of these days. Ben was telling me all about those frigging nut rolls you bake real special and slather in caramel like you're trying to tell this boy a thing or two.”

  He elbows Hunter again, who shoots him a dirty look. “Sloan. Enough.”

  “I kid, I kid. Relax, baby,” he says, turning to his girl, slipping a not-so-subtle hand underneath the table. “We'll blow this gig early after big boss makes his big ass speech.” His voice drops again. I can still hear him. “And then we'll all work on blowing something else.”

  Dear God. I'd roll my eyes until they get stuck, but I'm too mortified.

  “Seriously, though, Benjamin...” Sloan turns back to us. “He loves that fuckin' job. Can't shut up about it. He must be doing an awesome job?”

  “He’s doing great,” Hunter tells him, nodding.

  “Must be if you left him alone tonight,” Sloan says, then downs what must be his sixth straight whiskey drink. “Shit. You're lucky he's a good kid, man. I was throwing parties that'd tear up half the house when I was left alone at his age. You should've seen that look on my ma's face the time she came home and found that stripper's panties under my –”

  “Sloan!” Hunter's eyes darken, telling his friend he's not kidding around. “Ben's not home alone. He’s with Wendy’s parents.”

  Sloan lifts a dark brow as his beady eyes settle on me. “Oh, it’s a family affair, then, is it?”

  Even though Hunter’s prime rib is only half eaten, he drops his napkin over his plate. I hear his chair screech and inwardly tremble.

  “Excuse us,” he says, rising to his feet. “Sloan. Let's go.”

  Sloan pushes away from the table, a bewildered look on his face.

  “Duty calls, I guess.” He recovers quickly, flashing a parting grin my way.

  The table stays eerily quiet compared to the loud, laughter-strewn chatter happening at all the others.

  Sloan's date quietly plucks the toothpick out of her drink and eats the olive.

  “Don’t mind me,” she says, picking up her glass and rising to her feet. “I’m just here for the alcohol. He’s a fricking asshole and I'm not going home with him tonight. I don't care how good he pays.”

  Stacy and I look at each other.

  “Asshole, yeah. Maybe just a little,” Josh says, pinching his fingers together.

  I can’t help but look over my shoulder, at how stiff Hunter’s stride is as he walks out of the room with Sloan following behind him.

  “What's his problem, anyway?” Stacy asks.

  “Power,” Josh says quickly. “I haven’t met a single person in IT or security who really likes him, or, well –” Josh picks up his glass and takes a long drink.

  I wait for him to say more. When he doesn’t, I ask. “Or what?”

  Josh shrugs. “I’m new, so I guess I don’t have more than a gut feeling, but...I wouldn’t trust him to walk my dog. Much less be the guard dog Mr. Forsythe considers him. But I know he's a smart man. Maybe there's just something I'm missing.”

  I press a hand against my stomach, trying to quiet the jittery sensation. “Why?”

  Josh shrugs again. “Gut feeling, I guess. How well do you know him, Wendy?”

  “I don’t. I mean, I've heard a lot, but we haven't spent much time together. I’ve only met him once before tonight.”

  “Well, he doesn’t like you,” Stacy says. “I saw that look and those nasty remarks. So did Hunter.”

  I hate to admit she's right. It's hard not to.

  What if this is just some big misunderstanding?

  Lord, please just let it be a ginormous misunderstanding.

  A server arrives to remove our plates, and we let her take all of them.

  The food was good, but nobody finishes. We’ve all lost our appetites.

  Hunter arrives a short time later, trying to act like all is well, but I can tell it’s not. There's no shine in his stark-blue eyes. They mean business, and they're hurt.

  I don't have time to ask or help him. He stands up a minute later to raucous applause and makes his way to the podium.

  It's one of the most rousing speeches I've ever heard. Concise. Heartwarming. Straight talk.

  When he says how sure he is next year will be Landmark's best, even I'm sold.

  There's something extra sexy about this man, all dressed up in his corporate commander role.

  And even when he's addressing his employees, he glances at me, and I see those eyes.

  Whatever he said to Sloan, it won't ruin tonight.

  He's all dark promises and growls that send heat coiling through my body, numbing my toes.

  Sloan returns to the room, too, late in the speech. He keeps his distance this time. He barely even looks back at our table as he sits across the room, chattering away with the other officers, even after Hunter returns to my side.

  I try to shift my attention to something else. Then I notice Hunter has a text, and he's typing out a reply.

  “Everything okay?” I ask.

  “It’s from your ma. She wants to know if Ben can spend the night.” He puts his phone in his pocket. “I already said yes.”

  “They’ll enjoy that,” I say, smiling. “Ben will, too.”

  “You ready to leave?”

  “Sure. If you are.”

  “I've had enough fun.” He takes my arm and leads me out of the room, a quickness in his step.

  I’ve never seen him so somber, or curt.

  “Hey, you okay?” I'm afraid to know the answer, but I ask anyway.

  “Fine, Sugar.”

  He collects our coats from the attendant and we leave. I can feel the distance between us growing with every minute that passes by. It’s uncomfortable, and I don’t like it.

  “What happened?” I ask more insistently as soon we're gone, waiting for a red light. “Tell me the truth, Hunter. Did I do something wrong?”

  He stomps on the gas so hard when the light turns green that the force shoves me back in the seat. “When were you going to tell me about your old man filing bankruptcy?”

  “Filing – what?” I’m too stunned to reply. To even think.

  For all of about twenty agonizing seconds.

  Then I whip around, studying his face, hating the darkness in his eyes.

  “My father's not filing for bankruptcy. I've seen the accounts at Midnight Morning myself. We haven't had a down year for the past decade.” I shake my head in disbelief. “What...why would you say that? Even think it?”

  “Because it explains a whole hell of a lot. Like why your ma wanted me to take you to that wedding so bad. And why they put up with so much shit from your sister. Rich sons-in-law. That’s what they're after.”

  I’m instantly pissed. I don't know where he's getting this, but it's completely fucking wrong.

  “What's gotten into you? Christ. No one's filing anything. The bakery was paid off years ago. So was their house. And they put up with Rochelle’s crap because she's Rochelle. That’s been her since day one. As far as sons-in-law...the only thing they want from Marco is for him to make Rochelle happy. That's all they'd ever want from anyone marrying their girls.”

  My parents can be many things. Insane, neurotic, even a little controlling.

  But at the end of the day, they're not bad people. My stomach won't stop turning over, wondering who put this idea in Hunter's head.

  “So that’s why they forced you to go to the wedding with me? So you’d be happy?”

  “No! That, again, was so Rochelle would st
op complaining. So her head count was right. And so I'd be there like a grown up, thank you very much.”

  “Yeah, right.” He whips the Yukon into his driveway and hits the garage opener. “I suppose that’s why they hired Ben, too. Hired a fourteen-year-old they didn't really need when he doesn’t know shit about baking.”

  If my car was here, I’d leave.

  Since that’s not an option right now, I hold my breath, count to ten, and then let it out, a slow, steaming hiss through my nostrils. Hunter doesn't even look at me.

  He shuts off the SUV and climbs out. I'm out, too, and beat him to the door, which I throw open and head straight for the kitchen, where I’d left my purse and cell phone, figuring I wouldn’t need it while at the party.

  I grab my phone. Having never used my Uber app in a year, I have to look up how.

  He throws his coat on the kitchen counter. “What are you doing?”

  I don’t answer as I tap the GET RIDE button.

  He grabs the phone. “Fucking Uber?”

  I reach for the phone, which he pulls out of my reach. Now, I’m royally pissed.

  “Fuck you, Hunter. I can't believe what an idiot I've been this whole time...”

  “Where are you going to have Uber take you?” His attitude, his questions, are as cocky as a ten-year-old’s.

  “My parents' house,” I say, with the same attitude. “You know, the ones who are filing bankruptcy and keeping it a secret because they just want your money.” That's so flipping ludicrous it makes me want to scream. “Who told you, anyway? Will you at least give me that?”

  He tosses my phone onto the counter. “Sloan. He had you checked out. That’s his job, to protect me and my assets. He's there for my company and my family.”

  “Protect you?” I let out a false laugh. “Like I’m a threat to your assets? You’re as big an asshole as he is.” I pick up my phone and cringe.

  The session has timed out. Just great.

  My anger spirals up another notch as I mash buttons again.

  “I can't believe you,” I say, choking back my bitter disappointment. Then I hit that damn button again. “He's a total creep who makes jokes like a thirteen-year-old, and you’re taking his word over mine?”