“I think it’s safe for us to head back to the city today,” Hunter says, sitting up. “I’ve had the penthouse swept for bugs, and security’s been doubled. There are men stationed in the lobby now too.”
My stomach tightens. “I don’t know if I can go back to the city without her.”
“We’ll find her,” he promises, the certainty in his voice almost convincing me.
“Have you...” I hesitate, “Have you spoken to my dad about all this?”
Hunter’s expression shifts subtly. “Yes. He’s helping with resources, information. He’s understandably upset about what’s happened.”
“Did you tell him about us?” The question comes out smaller than I intended.
Hunter’s fingers brush my cheek. “Not yet. It didn’t seem like the right time, finding out you’d both been kidnapped. He’s focused on finding Olivia.”
I nod, understanding his reasoning even as I wonder how my father will react when he does find out. His stepdaughter and his daughter’s fiancé. It sounds like the plot of a bad soap opera.
“We’ll tell him,” Hunter says, reading my thoughts. “Together. Hopefully after we bring Olivia home, unless we need to tell him sooner.”
“But what do I tell him when he asks where I’m staying? Because he will ask.” I twist the bedsheet between my fingers. “I can’t exactly say I’m living with his business partner, who is, as far as he’s concerned, still engaged to his daughter.”
Hunter’s expression doesn’t change as he traces patterns on my bare shoulder. “You don’t tell him anything. He doesn’t need to know where you’re staying.”
“But—”
“I’ve already spoken to Derek about your security,” Hunter interrupts. “I assured him I’d find secure accommodation for you, under protection. He was satisfied with that.”
I raise an eyebrow. “And he didn’t ask for details?”
“He tried. I explained that the fewer people who knew your location, the safer you’d be.” Hunter’s lips quirk into a half-smile. “Your father understands security is paramount.”
I nod, releasing a deep sigh. Part of me wants to come clean immediately and stop living in the shadows. But another part recognizes Hunter’s logic. With Jax still out there and Liv by missing, maybe complete honesty isn’t the priority right now.
“Come on.” Hunter slides from the bed, pulling on a pair of sweatpants that hang dangerously low on his hips. “Let’s get some food.”
I watch him move toward the door, all lean muscle and predatory grace. “I didn’t know you could cook.”
He glances back, something almost playful crossing his features. “There are still a few things you don’t know about me, Aurora.”
In the kitchen, I perch on a barstool while Hunter moves with surprising efficiency, cracking eggs into a bowl, slicing bread, and measuring coffee grounds. The domesticity of the moment feels surreal after everything we’ve been through.
“How did you learn to cook?” I ask as he whisks the eggs with practiced movements.
“Necessity.” He doesn’t look up from his task. “When you grow up without parents, you either learn or starve.”
The simple statement catches me off guard, a reminder of the layers still between us. I don’t know a lot about him or his past. I watch silently as he pours the eggs into a sizzling pan, thinking about all the questions I still need to ask him.
I watch him move around the kitchen with practiced ease, the revelation about his childhood hanging in the air between us. The question forms before I can stop it.
“Why did you grow up without parents? What happened to them?”
Hunter’s hands pause momentarily over the stove. His shoulders tense, and I immediately regret asking.
“I’m sorry. You don’t have to?—”
“No,” he interrupts, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “You should know.” He flips the eggs onto plates and turns off the burner before meeting my eyes. “Car accident. I was seven.”
The simple statement lands with crushing weight. I remain silent, giving him space to continue or stop.
Hunter places the plates on the counter and leans against it, eyes fixed on some distant point. “Rainy night. Drunk driver. They were coming home from a charity event while I was being watched by the babysitter.” His voice is methodical, as if reciting facts from a report, but I can see the muscle in his jaw working.
