Chapter 45: Chapter Forty-four

It was around 4:30 in the evening when Hunter came to pick her up.

Mirabella was curled up on the living room sofa, half-interested in a random show flickering on the television. The sound of a car outside drew her attention. She got up from where she was sitting, curiosity prickling at her chest, and walked to the window. Pulling the curtain aside just slightly, her breath caught for the briefest second.

A sleek white car had pulled up in front of Hilda’s house, the kind of car that screamed danger. And sure enough, it was Hunter.

Her stomach did a little flip when she saw him step out of the car, tall, broad-shouldered, freshly dressed, and sensual in every movement as though the world belonged to only him. His dark shirt clung to his muscled body, the first few buttons were open just enough to tease the view of his chest. His hair was neatly styled, his jaw sharp. There was a frown on his face making him look dangerous. He must be very angry.

She clenched her teeth and forced herself to die the feeling in her stomach. She wouldn’t allow her body to respond to him. She yanked the curtain closed and went back to the sofa, sinking into the cushion with feigned boredom. “Why can he not let me have my way just once?” she muttered under her breath, arms crossed tightly.

Moments later, the doorbell rang, followed almost immediately by a firm knock. She ignored both, her eyes fixed stubbornly on the TV screen.

From the hallway, Hilda’s bedroom door opened. The older woman’s voice was soft with sleep. “Are you ok, Mira? I’ll get the door,” she called, yawning as she padded toward the entryway.

“Fine,” Mirabella replied shortly, her tone edged with boredom though her heart was drumming in her chest.

She heard muffled voices at the door, low and rough, and then footsteps. When Hilda re-entered the room, Hunter was right behind her, his presence filling the space like a storm rolling in. The man has a very strong aura.

“He’s here to get you, sweetie,” Hilda said gently, glancing between the two of them with worry.

But Hunter didn’t need her to announce anything. He didn’t even pause. His eyes locked onto Mirabella’s stubborn little figure curled on the sofa, pretending not to have seen him. He crossed the room in heavy strides, reached down, and without a word, pulled her to her feet. Before she could breathe, his mouth crashed onto hers.

It wasn’t a request. It wasn’t gentle. It was Hunter, staking claim, his lips moving hot and hard against hers while she pressed against his chest, trying to resist. Her small fists beat once against him before faltering. He tilted her head back, deepening the kiss until her resolve shook, until she was breathless and angry all at once.

When he pulled back, his hand still tangled in her hair, her eyes were blazing at him with fire.

He studied her face for a moment, then his gaze slid down to what she was wearing. An oversized polo shirt swallowed most of her frame, but beneath it peeked a very tight, very short piece of clothing that barely qualified as shorts. It was teasingly hidden and yet revealed enough to make his jaw tighten.

“You are not dressed, Bella,” he said darkly, his voice carrying both accusation and hunger. “You enjoy making me angry, don’t you?”

She shrugged, deliberately silent, her chin lifted in challenge.

His hand in her hair tightened as a warning, tugging her head back slightly. “Don’t test me.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” she said stubbornly. “I don’t want to. And I’m not dressed to leave.”

“You don’t need to dress anymore.” His eyes narrowed. “We would go like this.”

He turned to Hilda then, his expression cold, though he still nodded with a strange courtesy. “Thank you for taking her in. But she is going home with me now.”

Hilda’s throat worked, torn between fear and defiance. “This is her real home,” she said softly, though her words trembled. “Could you let her… leave where she wants freely? Please?”

Hunter’s eyes hardened as he looked at her as if she had lost her mind. Let Mirabella leave freely? Without him? The thought was absurd.

He didn’t waste his breath replying. His focus snapped back to Mirabella, who was glaring at him with all the silent fury she could muster. “Let’s go,” he ordered.

She knew better than to argue with him. Resistance was always fruitless with Hunter. “Fine,” she said quietly, “but let me change into something first.”

“You don’t need to change into anything more,” he cut her off. His eyes dared her to test him again.

He reached past her, snatched her phone from where it rested on the couch, then clamped his hand firmly around hers and began pulling her toward the door.

When they reached Hilda, Mirabella yanked her hand free long enough to hug the woman tightly. “Don’t worry about me,” she whispered against her shoulder. “I’ll be fine.”

Hilda hugged her back just as tightly, whispering with concern, “Call me if anything comes up, ok?”

Mirabella nodded quickly, her throat tightening.

Hunter, however, was fuming at the sight. He didn’t like her clinging to anyone else, not even for comfort. He reached out, pulled her away from Hilda, and led her straight out the door.

Outside, he opened the passenger side door of the white car for her. She climbed in slowly, her body language screaming rebellion, her lips pursed in silence.

Once inside, he circled the car, slipped behind the wheel, and drove away without a word.

The car ride was heavy with silence. Mirabella pressed her cheek against the window, refusing to look at him, and Hunter let her sulk. His jaw was tight, and his patience was thinner than glass.

When they arrived back at his house, she remained seated stubbornly even after he turned off the ignition. She folded her arms and stared out the window.

Hunter exhaled sharply, got out, and strode around to her side. He opened the door. “Out now.”

She ignored him, leaning deeper into the seat.

His patience snapped. In one swift movement, he took her hand, pulled her out of the car, and when she resisted, he threw her over his shoulder as if she weighed nothing. Her protests filled the air.

“Put me down! Let me go now!” she hissed, pounding at his back with her small fists.

But Hunter ignored her entirely, walking toward the house with steady steps.

The front door opened just as they entered, and Ashley appeared, drawn by the commotion. Her eyes widened at the sight of Mirabella dangling over Hunter’s shoulder. “Hey, Mira…let her down, Hunter!” she demanded, rushing closer.

Mirabella twisted her head enough to call out, “Hi, Ash,” her voice half-exasperated, half-resigned.

Hunter didn’t slow his stride. He walked straight past Ashley as if she weren’t even there and took the staircase two steps at a time.

Inside his room, Mirabella braced herself, expecting him to toss her onto the bed. Instead, he walked to the couch. He set her down on her feet only long enough to sit himself down. Then, before she could step away, he pulled her to lay across his lap.

Her stomach and breasts pressed into his solid thighs, her hands gripped the cushions for balance. She froze, as realization dawned a split second before she felt his hands at her waist, tugging at her tight.

He began to peel her shorts down, exposing her inch by inch, his jaw tight and his control a knife’s edge.