Spy Thy Neighbor

by Shandi Boyes

  Hunter: Don’t even think about it. They have a non-return policy.

  A ridiculous grin stretches across my face. How does he already know me so well?

  Me: I don’t have the faintest clue what you're talking about.

  The monstrous bed dips when I sit on the edge of it.

  Hunter: The dress.

  I smile.

  Me: Dress? What dress?

  Hunter only walked me to the entranceway, so I decide to make him sweat it out a little. That's what he gets for paying a ridiculous amount of money for an article of clothing.

  Hunter: The one in your room.

  Me: ???

  Hunter: The one you're sitting next to.

  My eyes snap to the door. When I fail to locate Hunter, I scramble off the bed and pace back into the living area of the suite. Sweat slicks my skin as excitement overwhelms me.

  Hunter: Warmer…

  I pace deeper into the living room.

  Hunter: Colder…

  Twisting my lips, I change my direction and head toward the entranceway.

  Hunter: Warmer…

  A broad grin stretches across my face as I quicken my pace.

  Hunter: Hot…. HOT! Scorching hot!

  Laughing, my eyes scope the premises. The smell of freshly cut flowers filter into my nose from the gorgeous bouquet of lilies, roses, and lisianthus on the entranceway table. When I stop to admire the beautiful arrangement on the antique rotunda table, my phone vibrates in my hand.

  Hunter: Bingo.

  My heart thwacks against my ribs as my eyes scan the floral arrangement. The beat turns dangerous when I spot the smallest speck of black on one of the lilies’ petals. Not long after I screw up my nose, a message arrives on my phone.

  Hunter: That’s not a good look for you.

  Holy hell! Is that a camera? My eyes rocket between the floral bouquet and my bedroom door. The camera is facing the wrong way, so there's no way he could have seen me sitting on my bed from this angle. I stiffen, and my pupils widen. My teeth grind together as I type out a new message on my phone.

  Me: Did you put a camera in my room??????

  My face reddens as anger envelopes me. The living hell is scared out of me for a second time when my cell phone suddenly rings in my hand. Exhaling a calming breath, I hit the call button and press it to my ear.

  “Who’s the voyeur in this friendship?” Hunter’s rich chocolatey voice sounds down the line.

  I glare into the tiny camera attached to the bouquet while snarling, "Voyeurism and being a peeping Tom are two completely separate entities. Believe me, I've researched them both."

  Hunter laughs. “Don’t believe everything Google tells you, Paige. Most of the stuff on there is fiction, not fact.”

  "I do not believe everything I read, Hunter.” I draw out his name as he had done to mine. "But even a noob knows you can't photograph someone without their consent."

  "Ah. That's where you're very wrong. I've not only informed you that you're under surveillance, but the device is also not in a public place or a restroom. So I'm free to invade your privacy as much as I see fit."

  “See this,” I retaliate, yanking the small black device off the petal and throwing it into a bin at my side.

  My brazenness freezes when Hunter growls. “You’re even sexier when you're angry.”

  Frozen from the sexy ruggedness of his voice, my eyes shoot in all directions, searching for more camera devices.

  My eyes slant when he says, “You’ll never find them all.”

  Gritting my teeth, I disconnect the call and switch off my phone. You'd think my first reaction would be to grab my bag and request another room, or better yet, the first flight home, but for some reason, unbeknown to me, my feet remain firmly planted on the ground. It may be injudicious of me, but I already trust Hunter, so I don’t believe he'd ever purposely set out to hurt me, let alone spy on me.

  I suffer my third coronary failure for the day when the smooth richness of Hunter’s voice sounds out of my switched off phone speaker mere seconds later. “If you don’t want me to see you naked, close your bedroom door. The cameras are only in the living areas.”

  I slide my index finger across the screen of my phone, ensuring it's turned off. It is.

  “Then how could you see I was sitting on the bed?” My voice is rickety, confused about how he can be talking to me from a switched off phone.

  “Your image was reflecting from the mirror hanging in the entranceway.”

  My eyes rocket to the large gold embossed mirror hanging in the elegant foyer. The quickening of my pulse settles when I see the emerald green dress laying on the bed in its reflection.

  My bewildered eyes shift back down to my phone when Hunter says, “Paige?”

  “Yes,” I reply, my voice croaky.

  “Stop biting your lip. You’re making my teeth jealous.”

  I release my bottom lip from my menacing teeth as I stare at my phone, incredulous that this is happening.

  “Who the hell are you?” I barely whisper.

  “I’m the man your momma warned you about,” he mutters before a clink sounds down the line.

  “Hello. . . Hunter?” I press my phone closer to my ear.

  When he fails to answer, I dump my phone onto the entranceway table and sweep my eyes around the room. My heart is hammering against my ribs, and a fine layer of sweat is misting my skin. But even beyond baffled, I’m also incredibly excited. I've never had this absurd amount of excitement thickening my blood before. I feel like an entirely different person around Hunter. I'm not the highly educated and well-spoken daughter of a much-respected pillar of the community. Nor am I the trophy fiancée on the arm of a cut-throat businessman who only speaks when spoken to and never airs her political objections in public. For the first time, I'm just me: Paige, the quirky novelist.

  Squealing, I charge across the monstrous living room and dive onto the ginormous bed. The thickness of the fluffy duvet swallows me whole, swamping me with its heavenliness that's nearly as soft as Hunter’s beard.

  I turn my eyes up to the ceiling to silently ponder. After ten minutes of musing, I reach the same conclusion over and over again.

  I may not know who the real Hunter Kane is, but for the moment, I don’t care.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Telling myself to relax, I release a deep exhale of air and flutter my eyes open. The dress is worth every penny just for the way it hugs me in all the right places. The ruched bodice and built-in bra make my less-than-stellar breasts pop, and the fan of the skirt hides my less desirable assets. Today isn't the first time I've dressed up in a lovely gown, but it's the first time I've wanted to.

  I lean over and snag a few extra bobby pins from the dresser and pin back a wayward tress of hair that has fallen from my side-swept hairstyle. My lips are a vibrant bright red, and my eyes have been done in a thick coat of eyeliner and mascara, giving me the alluring, sex kitten look I was aiming for while also being classy. A smile tugs on my lips, wondering what Hunter's reaction will be when he sees me. I’m a far cry from the sweatpants-wearing novelist he's used to seeing.

  My pulse leaps in excitement when a tap sounds on the wooden door of my room. After checking my lipstick in the mirror and ensuring my wavy hair has been wrangled into smooth, glossy locks, I head for the door. The inane smile stretched across my face dampens when my eyes lock in on Hunter. Cocking my hip, I demand the focus of his eyes, which are absorbing every inch of my skin.

  When his eyes finally lock with mine, I observe, “I’m wearing a dress that cost more than my first car, and you’re wearing that?”

  My eyes lower to absorb Hunter in a long-sleeve button up shirt and a pair of jeans. I appreciate that he at least went to the effort of changing his plaid shirt to a dress shirt, but he isn’t even close to being dressed as formally as I am. I look like Cinderella about to attend the ball. He looks like he's a college student heading to a Cold Play concert.

  Catching my non-amu
sed glare, he scrapes his hand along the end of his jaw and shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t own a suit.”

  “Then go and buy one!” I gesture my hand around the elegant surroundings. “I’m sure you can afford it.”

  A spark ignites in Hunter’s eyes, but he remains as quiet as a graveyard at midnight.

  "If I have to wear this get up, so do you," I respond to his silence.

  I spin him on his heels and nudge him toward the door. “Go down to the lobby and ask the concierge for directions to the nearest suit store. I’ll grab my purse and meet you at the taxi stand out front.”

  “It’s 8 PM on a Saturday, Paige. All the shops are closed,” Hunter argues.

  My brisk pace halts. I suck in numerous deep breaths as my muddled brain tries to think of a solution to our situation. It wouldn't matter if I wore more diamonds than Elizabeth Taylor owned in her lifetime. If I turn up to a ten thousand dollar a plate function with Hunter dressed how he is, he will gain the attention of everyone in the room. Considering his rationalization for bringing me here was to ensure he remained incognito, he needs to wear a suit. There's no other viable option.

  “You need to wear a suit,” I explain as kindly as possible. I love that Hunter is who he is, but if he wants to fix the mistakes he made with his boss, he needs to do this. “If you want to make things right with your boss, you need to look the part.”

  “I don’t own a suit.” He stares into my eyes so I can see the truth in his statement.

  “Can you borrow one?” I suggest, returning his sweat-producing stare.

  Smiling a traffic-stopping grin, Hunter nods.

  Ten minutes later, we are walking in the presidential suite. My breath hitches when he enters the suite without bothering to knock. I’m at a complete loss for words when my eyes fully take in the grandeur of the room. If I’d thought the views were spectacular from Hunter’s suite; these are ten times better.

  My dress swishes on the pristine marble tiles as I shadow him deeper into the suite. Three large plush leather sofas line the space of the sunken living room. A baby grand piano sits in one corner, and a crystal bar is in the opposite one. The suite screams of wealth and superiority.

  The heel on my stilettos snag in the thick carpet when we step into the sunken living area. When we round the corner, my leisured pace comes to a complete halt. Standing in the corner of the room, talking on a cell phone is the dark and mysterious stranger I spied on in Hunter's glass house three days ago. When he notices Hunter and me approaching, the alluring stranger finalizes his call and places his cell into the breast pocket of his suit jacket. In contrast to Hunter, he looks dressed to impress in a full black tuxedo, white dress shirt, and bowtie.

  My eyes rocket to Hunter when he asks, “Hey, Boss, can I borrow a suit?”

  So this is Hunter’s boss?

  Hunter’s boss arches his brow and peers at Hunter in shock. My heartbeat quickens when an ostentatious smirk etches on his mouth before he nods. Gesturing his hand to a set of double doors on the other side of the suite, Hunter’s boss says, “Help yourself to anything you like.”

  Hunter’s brows bow. “Don’t even think about it.” His tone laced with cheekiness. “After tonight, you won’t catch me in a suit ever again.”

  Ignoring the jeering look stretching across his boss’s face, Hunter shifts on his feet to face me. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  I smile and nod, relieved he’s finally accepted there's no other viable attire for him tonight than a suit.

  When Hunter struts into the room, his boss moves to stand in front of me. The smell of expensive cologne smacks into me. Unlike Hunter, I can recognize his scent. Clive Christian 1872.

  “Isaac Holt.” He offers me his hand to shake.

  “Paige,” I introduce, accepting his handshake.

  Isaac is gorgeous, in a dark and mysterious type of way. His eyes are a unique dark gray in color, and his hair is thick and luxurious. A grin curls on my lips when I notice he has a cleft chin hiding behind a few days of stubble. I’ve always wanted to pen a book with a male lead who has a dimple in his chin.

  “How do you know Hunter?”

  Isaac paces to a crystal bar set up in the corner of the room. After pouring himself a generous helping of whiskey, he dips the tumbler toward me.

  I wave my hand in front of my body, denying his offer of a whiskey before answering, “I’m his neighbor.”

  A smirk etches on Isaac's mouth before he downs the generous helping of whiskey in one hit. After running the back of his hand across his lips, he questions, "You're the tenant staying in my cabin?"

  My eyes balk with surprise. “You own the cabin?”

  He smirks while pouring himself another whiskey. “Yes. I own most of the houses in that gated community.”

  From the way he carries himself, and the aura of wealth permeating from him, I’m not astonished by his admission.

  “Do you own Hunter’s residence as well?” I ask curiously.

  “No.” He places the decanter of whiskey onto the bar and ambles closer to me. “Don’t let Hunter’s appearance deceive you, Paige. Under his ruggedness is a man with a brilliant mind and even sharper ethics.”

  “Then why do you have him working your security? Why not put his brilliant mind to good use?” I blurt out before my brain has a chance of citing an objection.

  Just from Isaac’s demeanor alone, I know he isn’t a man I should spar against, but I’m curious as to why he'd say Hunter is a brilliant man but then only use him as a protective detail. Let alone the fact Isaac doesn’t seem like the type of man who requires the aid of a bodyguard. He looks more than capable of taking care of himself.

  “Hunter told you he works for me?” Isaac questions, his brow arched and his words clipped.

  After swallowing to relieve my parched throat, I nod.

  Isaac huffs, seemingly stunned Hunter shared that information with me. Before Isaac can configure a response, Hunter strides back into the room. Every limb in my body becomes immobile as he spans the distance between the master suite and the sunken lounge. When his murky blue eyes lift from securing the button on the cuff of his midnight black suit, an asinine grin tugs on his lips, no doubt loving my muted reaction.

  I’m speechless and utterly flabbergasted, unable to relay the core-crunching visual in front of me. My body slicks with sweat as a frenetic rush of desire swamps the lower regions of my body. The suit Hunter has chosen to wear fits him like it was tailored specifically for his body shape. The darkness of the crisp blue dress shirt makes his compelling eyes more effervescent, and the cut lines of the luxurious fabric showcase his body as if he were standing before me naked as the day he was born. It's a riveting visual, and it has my heart racing.

  Hunter winks cockily as he glides past me and stops in front of Isaac. I stand frozen at the side of the living room, muted by rampant horniness. Isaac’s eyes flick to me, glaring at me and my awkwardness for several uncomfortable seconds before he turns his gaze back to Hunter. I'd normally have a reaction to his inquisitive stare, but I’m too stunned at the desire coursing through my veins to form words.

  A surge of blood pumps into my heart when Hunter says, “She's okay. You can speak in front of Paige. I trust her.”

  I smile, beyond pleased I’m not the only one who has issued the trust card so early in our newly-formed friendship.

  Isaac curtly nods. “Although my empire has contributed a significant amount of money to this foundation, my focus is not on business tonight.”

  “You’re going in for Izzy,” Hunter intuits.

  “Yes,” Isaac answers. “Hugo has advised she's on route. Even though she will be in my view at all times, I still want eyes surrounding her. Until we know who is following her, everyone around her is to be treated as if they are a threat.”

  “I understand,” Hunter replies with a nod. “Unfortunately, the hotel the gala is being held at has top notch security. I can only access the data center from the main frame in t
heir security office. Once I infiltrate their system, I’ll have complete access to their security feeds and monitoring stations. Anyone arriving or leaving will be caught.”

  “Good.” Relief fills Isaac’s expressive eyes.

  My expression changes from curious to excited. When Hunter said he worked in security, my first thoughts drifted to Kevin Costner starring in The Bodyguard. But from the mention of mainframes and other computer gobbledygook I've never understood, his job sounds a lot more integral than just protecting an asset from some overzealous fans. It has my interests immensely piqued on exactly what Hunter does for a living.

  My eyes stray from the ground to Hunter when he says, “I also have an extra set of eyes that have agreed to help me tonight.”

  My heart beats triple time when Hunter swings his eyes to me and smiles. A rush of giddiness clusters my brain as I return his smile.

  "Okay. Good.” Isaac’s tone is slightly reserved as his eyes bounce between Hunter and me. "Then let's head out. I want to arrive before Isabelle."

  Hunter encloses his hand around mine and guides us back into the elegant corridor. My excited fidgeting becomes distracting when we enter the elevator behind Isaac. I’ve never had so much energy coursing through me.

  “Stop fidgeting.” Hunter guides me to the back of the elevator.

  Leaning in close to his side, I mumble, “I can’t help it. I’m too excited.”

  I bounce on my heels as my eyes drift between the elegantly dressed men and women in the car with us. Even with the dense aroma of wealth hampering my senses, eagerness beams out of me. The tick impinging Hunter's jaw gains intensity when he catches the curious glare Isaac is directing at me. His brows are furrowed, and he appears baffled. I’m sure I look like an absolute twit.