Beauty and the Billionaire (Billionaire Boys Club #2)(84)

The look on his face was tense, his expression intent as he focused on her. “And would you have gone out with me? Not knowing me? Not knowing who I was except for this?” He gestured at the deep gouges scarring his face. “How am I supposed to believe that? People turn away at the sight of me.”

His sadness and pain broke her heart. “Oh, Hunter. Just because most people are shallow a**holes doesn’t mean that I am.”

“But how would I know this?”

“It doesn’t matter, does it?” she said briskly. “We’ll never know that, because you manipulated the situation and lied to me. You messed with my career. You can’t just make up jobs to bring people into your life.”

“You can still have the money, you know,” he told her quietly. “I never meant to force you to choose between your happiness and me.”

She threw her hands up in the air. “It’s not about the money, Hunter. When will you get that? It’s about you and me and trust. How can I trust that you’re not pulling strings behind the scenes again anytime something goes my way?”

“How can I trust that you truly want me for who I am and not what I am?” There was a wealth of pain in his voice.

“Oh, Hunter. You have to have faith in me.” She moved forward and gently cupped his cheek, feeling the grooves of the scars.

He closed his eyes as if in ecstasy, his hand moving to hold hers there. “I love you so much, Gretchen. Please don’t leave me again.”

“Then trust me.”

His eyes opened. “It’s hard for me to trust.”

An amused smile curved her mouth. “I get that you’re damaged, but how do you think I feel knowing you’ve been manipulating things since day one?”

He flinched, and she could feel it against her palm. “I never meant to hurt you.”

“I know. And that’s why I’ve come back.” Her thumb lightly stroked over the jagged scar that twisted at the corner of his mouth. “It was the only way you knew how to reach out to me. I forgive you for that.”

He leaned in and kissed the heel of her hand.

“I still haven’t forgiven you for the sabotage of my laptop, though,” she said lightly. “That was kind of low.”

“I didn’t realize Eldon was going to do that,” he told her. “I just wanted him to delay you.”

“Oh, he delayed me all right. Killed my contract dead in the water.”

Hunter winced, but his fingers stroked the back of her hand. He still held her palm to his cheek, as if fearful that if he released her, she’d slip out of his grasp again. “The files were recovered, by the way. I can send you the information.”

She shrugged. “I’m a lot happier without writing, honestly. It’s not a profession I’m very good at. The constant deadlines drive me crazy, and if I have to write one more astronaut story I just might jump off your balcony. Without the contracts, I’m pretty broke but I’m also a lot happier—and less stressed—than I’ve been in a long time.”

“Preston will be sorry to hear that. He contacted me the other day and suggested that if you didn’t want to do the epistolary novel that perhaps you’d be interested in doing a cookbook. He loved your cooking at the dinner party.”

“A cookbook, huh?” She gave him a skeptical look. “Your idea?”

He grinned and released her hand. “It was all him, I’m afraid. For once, I had nothing to do with it.”

“I’ll think about it,” she told him softly, though in her mind she was already racing through her favorite recipes. Well, she’d let Hunter stew on it for a bit before deciding. Gretchen reached forward and slid a finger along Hunter’s lapel. “So what about the letters?”

He leaned into her touch, stepping forward. His hands went to her shoulders. “They were simply a means to an end.”

“Were they real? All those dirty, naughty things they wrote to each other?”

“They were real,” he told her. “Just not in this house.”

“I’m glad. I like to think that those two were crazy in love for so long and that they eventually get together. They do, don’t they? Get together and have a happy ever after?”

He shrugged. “I didn’t read far enough.”

She snuggled into his embrace, sighing. “I like to think that they did. I feel like their story is ours, just a little. Two lovers separated and reunited.”

“Their story’s not ours,” he told her in a husky voice, his fingers brushing at a lock of her hair. “I want us to make our story, not follow someone else’s.”

Her heart melted a little at that, and she curled her fingers into his jacket, tugging him close enough to kiss her. “You hurt me bad, you know.”

“I’m changing. For you, I’ll change everything I am.” His intense gaze swept over her face. “I meant it, Gretchen. I love you. It doesn’t matter to me if you love me or not. Just stay.”

“Well, it’s a good thing for you that I love you, too.”

His eyes warmed. He brushed a finger along her jawline. “Do you mean it?”

She thwacked him on the shoulder. “We’re going to have to get past this trust thing. Of course I mean it. Why would I lie to you after all this?”