Billionaire With a Twist 3(26)
He pressed a soft kiss to my neck, just below my ear.
I had never felt so much a part of another person, so connected and together, so warm. I never wanted to leave the safety of his arms.
“I’m glad you’re here with me,” Hunter said, his words barely more than warm puffs of air against my skin. He squeezed me tight. “You make me strong.”
I twisted around just enough to press my lips to his jaw. “You make me strong here.” I found his hand, interlaced my fingers with his. “I’m glad we’re in this together.”
ELEVEN
The expo was a whirlwind of activity, people embracing and shaking hands as they bustled between tables and booths overflowing with samples of products, jingles, and packaging. The roar of conversation dipped and fell like the waves of an ocean, and the sea of people before us seemed about to swallow us whole.
Hunter took my hand as we stood off to the side, ran his fingers over my knuckles. He bent to murmur in my ear: “You nervous? Or excited?”
I chuckled. “Both, honestly!”
He nodded. “Tell me about it.”
Unfortunately, we couldn’t spend the whole day joined at the hip. We had to let go of each other—well, of each other’s hands, anyway, and head out to mingle. We were both locked and loaded with flyers and an elevator pitch for our bourbon beer booth.
“We got this,” I told Hunter.
He grinned. “I know we do, babe.”
And we headed out together to conquer the expo.
#
An hour later, flushed and exhilarated, we began to make our way back to the booth to pick up more flyers. We’d been picked clean by eager expo-goers who were intrigued both by the new beverage and the fact that Hunter Knox was in the saddle again. Our pockets were bulging with the business cards from potential investors and distributors, and I’d already scheduled interviews for Hunter with three different journalists who’d expressed interest in writing articles about the company.
And then, like a zit on the face of a supermodel, Chuck appeared on the floor of the expo, strolling through the crowd as if he owned them all, flanked by two serious-looking older men in blue European-cut suits and two women in tailored pastel dresses.
“Ah, if it isn’t Hunter Knox and sweet little Ally Bartlett,” he greeted us, oozing insincere charm. “How nice to see you here. Holding up nicely? Not burned though all the charity yet?” He laughed like a hyena.
“We’re fine, thank you,” I said through gritted teeth.
“So glad we were able to work out a deal,” he said with a malicious smile. “But oh! I’m being rude! I haven’t introduced my companions.” A sweeping gesture indicated the well-dressed men and women behind him. “Still, I’m sure you recognize the Big Four. Don’t you, Hunter?”
“I do indeed,” Hunter said, not deigning to look at Chuck. He gave a respectful nod to the others, instead, who returned it. I gave them a friendly smile, and we all exchanged handshakes.
“I’m sure we’ll speak later, Hunter,” said one of the women, gray-haired with a regal profile that reminded me of Viola Davis. “I’m certainly interested in what you’re up to these days.”
“Nothing much, I’m sure,” Chuck put in quickly. “Not like the exciting things you have going on.”
The woman forced a thin smile. “Quite.”
Interesting. They seemed to be tolerating Chuck more than anything. I wondered how quickly the tables would turn if he no longer had something they wanted…
“I bet you’re wondering what I’m doing with these fine ladies and gentlemen, Hunter,” Chuck said, his grin ever more malicious. “Well, let me put you out of your misery. These are the soon-to-be new owners of Knox Liquors.”
Hunter raised an eyebrow. “Really? Well, I suppose it’ll be in better hands than yours then.”
One of the men stifled a chuckle.
Chuck was thrown, but to his credit he shook it off and kept plowing forward. He’d gotten one over on us, and by God, he was going to grandstand about it, current evidence to the contrary be damned. “Without your shares we couldn’t sell,” he sneered. “But now the playing field is clear. Knox Liquors is mine to sell to the highest bidder. And so I shall.”
He was so busy gloating, he didn’t notice the looks that crossed the faces of the four people behind him.
“One moment,” said one of the men, balding with blue eyes. “Did you just say Hunter Knox has left the company?”
“Yes, yes,” Chuck said impatiently, “which means that now we can move forward—”
“But this changes everything,” the man said.
“Agreed,” said the second woman. “With the way sales are dropping, the only reason we were considering a takeover was with Hunter’s management. He knows how to lead the business with the best interests of the company legacy in mind.”
Chuck scoffed. “Mr. Knox’s business practices have driven the company straight into the mud.”
The Big Four narrowed their eyes, furrowed their brows. Chuck’s face paled as he realized the implications of what he’d just said out loud to them.
“I mean,” he backpedaled, “Not such that we can’t recover! We’re recovering as we speak! Now that he’s gone we’re moving forward stronger than ever before, and if you’ve seen the new ad campaign you’ll agree that soon enough the younger demographic will more than make up for the sales that the older customers’ve—”