Chapter 186: The Fox At The Table

DAVID’S POV

I didn’t remember falling asleep. Just remember the dull ache in my skull when I stirred on the couch, still shirtless, the air heavy with the stink of sweat and old sex. My limbs were sore. My throat dry. My head... spinning.

I woke up with a headache the size of my past.

My mouth tasted like smoke and regret. My body ached from the rough sex I barely remembered. And my couch felt like a grave—mine, specifically. Because last night? Felt like a resurrection.

Of demons I thought I’d buried.

I stood and staggered into the kitchen, poured myself a black coffee, and took it like a shot. It didn’t help. Nothing could. Because from the moment she showed up, everything inside me had gone completely, violently wrong.

I blinked into the ceiling, the dull hum of the fan above slicing through the silence. For a moment, I convinced myself it was all in my head. That maybe I imagined her barging in, imagined the way her voice sliced into the room like a blade.

But then, the fragments started connecting. It was real.

She was real.

Holly fucking Miller.

The brat. The little devil with chaos in her eyes and no goddamn sense of boundaries.

And now? She had a woman’s body. A dangerous mouth. And a plan—I could feel it crawling under my skin.

Why the fuck was she here?

Why now?

She could’ve stayed in whatever golden cage Ava put her in. Could’ve finished school, started a life far from the mess of what I used to be. But no. She found me.

Here. In Chile. Like a ticking bomb in heels.

I popped two painkillers and tossed them down with the rest of the cold coffee. My head still throbbed like a hangover from a night I didn’t consent to remembering. I hit the bathroom, splashed water on my face, and stared at the mirror like it owed me answers.

Last night wasn’t a dream.

And it sure as hell wasn’t a mistake.

I could still smell her—vanilla and danger.

Still hear her laugh, soft and smug, echoing like a goddamn warning in the back of my mind.

I was almost done buttoning my shirt when my phone blared to life, vibrating loud enough to rattle the countertop. Norman’s name lit up my screen like a curse.

I sighed. Picked up.

“We have a meeting in ten minutes with new partners! Where the hell are you?” he half-screamed.

I winced and yanked the phone away from my ear, rubbing my temples. “I’ll be right there before your coffee gets cold.”

“It’s already cold, Dave! It’s freaking cold!”

“Then get a new cup,” I muttered, grabbing my keys. “And I’ll be there before that one gets cold.”

I took my damn time leaving the house, because if I was going to walk into a shark tank, I was sure as hell not doing it flustered.

Ten minutes later, I pulled up at the office—our humble little company nestled between two tech bros and a vegan burger joint that smelled like defeat. My Jeep grumbled in protest as I killed the engine. The headache hadn’t left, but I shoved it back, locking on the face I wore when I needed the world to believe I had my shit together.

The I’m-in-control face.

The I’m-not-a-freak-in-bed-who-lost-his-mind-last-night face.

I stepped out, adjusted my sleeves, smoothed my shirt, and walked in like I owned more than just my name.

A few of the employees glanced up from their desks.

“Morning, Mr. Hunt,” one of the interns smiled brightly.

“Sir,” another greeted.

I gave a small wave, nothing dramatic. Just enough to say yes, I see you—now stay the hell out of my way.

I reached for the door to the meeting room, straightened my back, and opened it—

And stopped cold.

What. The. Hell.

Norman was seated at the head of the table, muttering something about synergy and quarterly targets. The two new partners looked mildly bored. Nothing unusual. Until—

Holly.

Sat calmly next to Norman like she belonged there. Like she hadn’t barged into my bedroom last night and unraveled every thread of sanity I had left.

Her legs crossed. Her notebook open. A polite little smile glued to her face.

And when our eyes met?

She looked away.

Like I was a stranger.

Like she didn’t scream my name with rage after I sent her away.

I stepped fully into the room, shut the door behind me, and tried to keep my jaw from unhinging.

“What is going on here?” I growled, eyes locked on her like a sniper.

Norman looked up, eyebrows furrowed like I’d just interrupted a funeral. “Finally. Took you long enough.”

I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. Because Holly—sweet, twisted, Holly—was tapping her pen against the table like she hadn’t just detonated a nuclear bomb with her innocent intern act.

She finally glanced up, met my gaze again—and gave me the faintest smirk. Blink and you’d miss it. But I didn’t. That smirk said it all.

Checkmate, old man.

“Oh,” Norman added casually, flipping through a folder. “Forgot to tell you. This is Holly Miller. She’s Justin’s friend. She just joined us this morning on the internship program. Justin came with her this morning and pleaded.”

I stared at him, then at her. She offered a professional nod, stood up, and extended a hand across the table like we were strangers.

“Mr. Hunt,” she said smoothly. “It’s an honor to finally meet you in person.”

I almost laughed.

Almost.

Instead, I took her hand—and squeezed. Harder than I needed to. Her eyes flared for a half second. Then she squeezed back, her nails digging in like she was daring me to lose control in front of a room full of people.

This fucking brat.

Didn’t anyone tell her that she’s playing with fire? And that fire burns?

She let my hand go with a small smile. Polite. Innocent.

The kind of smile that should’ve belonged to someone quiet, well-mannered. Someone whose family is not out to destroy me.

She turned away without another glance and slid right back into her seat like she hadn’t just played puppet master with my dignity.

I stayed standing, watching like a wolf who just found a fox sitting at his dinner table wearing pearls.

Norman cleared his throat. “We were just getting into the meat of the acquisition pitch, David. The partners from J Coal Group are here to hear our final positioning before signing.”

Right. That.

The thing I was supposed to lead.

The deal I’d spent six months preparing.

I stood there, frozen, as Norman gestured for me to sit. “Let’s begin, shall we?”

But I didn’t even get the chance to clear my throat before she beat me to it.

“Actually,” Holly said sweetly, raising her hand just slightly, like a student volunteering to answer a math question she already knew the answer to. “If I may offer a few thoughts?”

I turned toward her so fast, I think my neck popped.

Norman looked unsure for a moment, but then nodded. “Sure. Go ahead.”

Oh no.