Chapter 61: Chapter Sixty

Beverly’s face was filled with shock and disbelief after Mirabella had narrated everything — every dark twist of her life, from her father’s debt to the moment she was taken by Hunter.

“Oh my God!” Beverly gasped, placing both hands over her mouth. “So the whole ‘you are payment for your dad’s debt’ thing still exists and actually happened to you? Like for real? ? You were literally kidnapped by him?”

Her wide eyes shimmered with disbelief, but her mouth soon twisted into something else — a dreamy smile. Typical Beverly.

Mirabella sighed and looked at her friend. “You are not supposed to smile right now.”

“I’m sorry, but come on!” Beverly said, waving her hands dramatically. “That’s like straight out of a dark romance novel. The big bad ruthless and handsome Mafia lord who takes what he wants, who’s all dominant and sinful—girl, it’s wild!”

“It’s not wild, Bev. It’s traumatic.” Mirabella gave her a flat stare, rubbing her forehead as though the whole conversation was giving her a headache all over again. “You’re so impossible, Bev.”

Beverly ignored that, still lost in her own fantasy. “You don’t understand, Mirabella. I’ve read books like this — the way he must’ve looked at you, the tension, the control… God, that’s the kind of dominance women pretend they don’t want but secretly dream about.” She exhaled softly, almost swooning. “The way he must have claimed you. The way he…”

“Bev!” Mirabella cut her off, groaning. “You’re not helping.”

“Oh, come on. I’m just saying what everyone would think if they saw him. The way he looks at you, Bella, it’s like you’re his last meal.” Beverly bit her lip, thinking out loud. “Honestly, don’t blame me. If that man ever kidnapped me, I’d stop running after the first night.”

“Bev!” Mirabella said, half laughing, half mortified. “Do you even hear yourself?”

“Perfectly. And girl, let’s not pretend. You might call him a monster, but I saw the way your eyes flicker just now even as you talk about him.”

“I’m not talking about this,” Mirabella said quickly, crossing her arms

“Oh, yes you are,” Beverly pressed, unbothered. She chuckled when mirabella groaned again. “Fine, fine. He has obviously found you again. What do you think he would do? And given the fact that you did tell him about your pregnancy then, how is he taking it all now?

Mirabella sighed, sinking deeper into the couch. “Ither than the fact that he wants to take us back, he’s good with Rena. Too good, actually. She even called him ‘dada’ the first day they met.”

“What?” Beverly’s jaw fell open. “You mean to tell me my goddaughter, who barely warms up to anyone, called him dada the first time?”

“Yeah.” Mirabella looked away, still confused by that. “I don’t know how it happened. I didn’t even mention him to her before. She’s never seen his picture or heard his name.”

Beverly’s jaw dropped. “Wow. The universe really has a dark sense of humor. You escape him, vanish without a trace, raise your daughter in peace for three years — and then bam! He finds you, and his daughter instantly adores him.”

“Exactly.”

Beverly whistled low. “Then it’s got to be instinct. Or maybe fate.” She leaned forward, eyes sparkling. “You know, like those magical bonds in books — a child recognizing their blood at once.”

Mirabella rolled her eyes, but a small smile tugged her lips. “You’ve been reading too many nonsense novels lately.”

“Or maybe I’m just right Bella.” Beverly smirked. “She must have looked at him and thought, ‘Oh yeah, that’s my dad. We have the same face, same eyes.’ you know kids can be that smart.”

Mirabella shook her head, though amusement lingered in her eyes. “Well, whatever it is, he’s not getting what he wants. I made that clear.”

Beverly looked at her in ‘you know you don't have an upper hand with someone like him’ look. “I'd just tell you to be careful. He is a dangerous guy from all you've told me. I don't want you or Rena hurt."

Mirabella doubted that wholeheartedly. She knows Hunter would never hurt her or Rena. How she knew this, She has no idea, the assurance was just there.

Rena is his child. Although that is not enough reason as she has seen some parents who dislike their own kids, but with the way those two have bonded together, his protectiveness of her, she must say that he loves the girl. Although he once told her he doesn't want kids indirectly. Maybe things have changed for him.

“I know,” Mirabella murmured. “But he wouldn’t hurt me. Or Rena. He just… doesn’t know how to take ‘no’ for an answer.”

Beverly sighed. “That’s exactly what makes him dangerous.”

She hesitated, trying to put the strange assurance she felt into words. “He would never hurt Rena. I see the way he looks at her. He loves and adores her already.”

Beverly leaned back and crossed her arms. “Love, huh? Didn’t you say he once told you he didn’t want kids?”

“Yeah. But maybe things have changed.”

By the time Beverly finally left, it was past seven in the evening. The house was quiet again. Mirabella walked into the kitchen and saw the grocery bags Hunter had brought earlier sitting neatly on the counter. Curious, she peeked inside.

Her eyes widened. He had bought everything — meat, vegetables, fruits, milk, bread, even snacks Rena loved. There was even a pack of turkey wings; the ones he used to crave every now and then.

But there was no Barbie doll.

She frowned a little, realizing she might have been wrong about what Rena had asked him to buy. Shrugging, she began putting everything away neatly — some in the fridge, others in the cabinet.

She finished organizing everything, then she microwaved leftovers for both of them. She knew Hunter would come down soon. If she didn’t dish his own food he would surely eat her own she thought with a small eye roll.

A few minutes later, as she set the table, she heard footsteps behind her.

When she turned, Hunter was walking out of Rena’s room. He looked devastatingly handsome — his dark hair tousled, his white shirt clinging to his broad shoulders, his expression softer than she remembered. But his eyes… They were tired, slightly puffy. He must have fallen asleep after putting Rena to bed.

Hunter took in the sight of the woman who was setting the table. He watched her quietly. The way she moved gracefully, efficiently and completely unaware of how sensual she looked; her dark hair falling all over her face and shoulders, her simple shirt hugging her curves did something to him.

When she bent slightly to reach for a spoon, more strands of her hair fell. Without a word, he stepped closer. When he reached her, he gently gathered her hair at the back of her neck, his rough fingers brushing the sensitive skin there.

She stiffened immediately, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver down her spine.

“I’ll do it myself,” she muttered, fumbling for the hairband on her wrist.

He took the hair band from her hand before she could use it. “Relax,” he said, his tone calm but firm. With steady fingers, he tied her hair back neatly, brushing his thumb lightly against her nape.

When he finished, he leaned in close, his breath grazing her ear. “Let me do things for you, Bella. Stop trying to push me away.” His voice was low, deep, and rough around the edges. “You should know by now that I can not be easily dismissed, so stop trying.”

Her heart thudded painfully fast. That voice, that nearness—it always disarmed her. She quickly stepped away and sat down at the table, pretending to focus on her food.

Hunter smirked. He took the seat beside her even though she’d set his plate across the table. Typical him — never following her boundaries.

They ate in silence, the only sound being the clinking of cutlery and the faint hum of the refrigerator.

After they finished, Mirabella started gathering the dishes, but Hunter caught her wrist gently. “We need to talk, Bella.”

She looked down at his hand, then up at his face. “Maybe later. I have things to do.”

“We both know you don’t.” His tone was steady, a little commanding. “It’s night. Sit down. Let’s talk.”

She let out a sarcastic little laugh. “Like you said, it’s night. I need to sleep.”

His jaw flexed, but he held back the growl that rose in his throat. “Sit,” he said again, this time lower, quieter, but with a force that demanded obedience.

She raised a brow, frowning. “You love giving orders, don’t you?”

Before she could move away, he tugged her hand sharply, pulling her right onto his lap.

“Hunter…!” she began, but he didn’t let go.

His eyes darkened, his breath hot against her cheek. A guttural sound escaped him as her movement rubbed against his growing crotch.

“Stop moving,” he warned, his voice hoarse.

“Then let me go,” she snapped, trying to sound stern though her voice betrayed her.

“I don’t think I will,” he said, tightening his hold slightly.

Her heart raced. She could feel every beat of his heart against her back. The warmth of his breath touched her neck, and she swallowed hard, trying to control the chaos inside her.