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Chapter 7 She Was Broken

Elle did this to herself. She let him fuck her. She knew it wouldn’t go anywhere.
Can she blame him?
She rolled over, facing his back. She placed her hand on his arm, too uncertain to speak. She gnawed her lower lip, waiting. Minutes passed, and she took that as a cue to slide even closer, resting her body against his. She closed her eyes and took a deep, unsteady breath.
“I want you to go.”
Her eyes fly open. “You what?”
He shakes off her hand without even turning around. “Go back to your father, go back to school, go back to your little bubble of a life. Just go.”
“But we just…I thought you were…”
“I’m not. I can’t ever be. Just…leave.” He flips over, his eyes so dark they almost look black. With a glare that can freeze ice, he pushes past her, enters the bathroom, and slams the door.
Short, sharp gasps make Elle’s chest quiver. She dressed as quickly as she could, consumed by the overwhelming need to get the hell away from him, from this house, and from the fantasies she clung to for years that had just shattered around her like a pane of glass.
Thankfully, he lives alone, and she can escape without explaining why her sweater is on backward and why her tights are wrapped around her neck instead of on her legs.
She choked back the sobs building in her chest until she collapsed into the front seat of her car. The absurdity strikes her that she has left without her gift.
She can’t take it. It would be too much of a painful reminder of everything. She sat there in the dark with the heat blasting. Metallica blares from the speakers, a perfect match for her dark mood.
He never cared about her. He never would. He was always on the take, but he took too much this time.
She betrayed her family tonight. She lost her virginity tonight. She was ready to give it all up tonight. Give it all away for just a chance that they could repair what was broken between them.
She loved him, and he treated her like shit.
He fucked up.
One thought makes her smile through the hot tears streaming down her face. She could have him killed.
“FUCK!”
Hunter pounded his fist on the Corian countertop in his bathroom. Hard. It was hard enough to make him think he might have fractured something in his hand from the impact.
Two days had passed since Elle had invaded his life yet again. He knew she’d come to the funeral. And he knew he needed to get her alone, to make things right. But as usual, he fucked it all up. This time, beyond repair.
For all of the luxuries this life affords him, it’s forced him to give up so much. Too much, and for once, he just wanted to know what it felt like to have it all.
He did, and it was fucking incredible. Somehow, though, he needs to return to his reality because of the dream of having the perfect life with the one girl his soul can’t seem to function without.
It’ll turn into a nightmare faster than a bullet will hit him between the eyes if he doesn’t give her up once and for all.
He didn’t give her a reason to come back. He had given her every reason to stay away.
But she couldn’t. And neither could he.
Hunter squeezed his eyes shut to block the image of her creeping into his bedroom the other night. He tried to keep his attention on that damned football, anything to keep himself from wandering over to her.
The girl he loved for as long as he could remember. The girl he wanted more than anyone else—the girl he could never have.
He lured her to his house with a bullshit excuse, and when she snuck into view, one glimpse was all he needed to jump her fucking bones and rocket her into oblivion. It’s what he had fantasized about since that night before she left for school.
It was too dangerous then and even more so now.
He could have nailed fifty other chicks, but he let Shaye wiggle her sexy ass under his skin. Then he pounded it with everything he had, emptying his soul into her.
The tiny drops of blood streaking his bed sheet screamed a major fuck up on his part, and she couldn’t get her out of his house fast enough.
He thought she was just tense because it was their first time, not her first fucking time. She was a virgin, and he took that away from her. She yanked it out with her suppressed lust-induced rage for everything he was dealing with right now. He ruined her, and then he kicked her out of his house, living up to his prick-ass reputation.
He warned her about the very reputation long ago to keep her safe.
His iPhone blares from his nightstand. He slammed open the bathroom door and lunged for it, tripping over a baseball bat lying on his floor. Regrettably, baseballs aren’t the only thing he hit with it.
“Hey, Dad.” He rakes his damp hair and searches a drawer for a clean t-shirt.
“Hunter, I need you to get over to my office. We need to talk. Now.”
His brow furrows. “Okay, I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
“Make it ten.”
Something’s up. Vince has been heads-down since the funeral, and Hunter has given him space to deal with everything. But this life doesn’t give you too much time to grieve since there’s always a nemesis lurking in some dark corner, stalking, plotting, just waiting to swoop in and seize what’s up for grabs, namely, the Moretti empire.
Nobody fucked with Grandpa. But with the Moretti and Rossi at odds and no referee keeping shit civil, people sense vulnerability. And opportunity. Vince has already stepped into his rightful place, but that doesn’t mean it will go unchallenged.
Hunter grabbed a Mets baseball cap from his desk and pulled it on. Keys in hand, he tears out of the house and jogs toward her blacked-out Range Rover.
He slides onto the pebbled leather, and the car roars to life. His father’s office is about fifteen minutes away, so he was already late, and Vince Moretti hates it when anyone is late to a meeting—no exceptions for blood.
Hunter managed to hit every red light along his route. He finally pulled into the parking garage adjacent to the building. He throws the car into the park and jumps out of the front seat. The elevator bank is the only thing on his side since the doors open before he can even press the Up button. The elevator zooms up to the fifth floor, and he steps out, looking up and down the corridor before opening the door to the office—occupational hazard. You never know who’s ready to jump out and whack you with a tire iron.
Being the son of Vince Moretti affords him a lot of luxuries, but it also puts his head on a chopping block for people who don’t feel they have a right to say amenities.
Vince and him have always been more about the businesses than the blood. But Grandpa Victor always knew if something happened to him, there would be people who’d try to muscle Vince out because they’d proven themselves to the family, proven that they would be feared, basically by way of murder.
Just like Grandpa Victor did, the time came for Hunter’s dad to send a clear message to the rest of the family, and he did what he needed to secure his place. It happened years ago and was a favor to Romano’s father, who’d run into trouble with another family.
That’s about all Hunter ever heard. He never spoke about it and never asked, knowing full well that he eventually faced the same situation. Because he never plugged anyone, either. And that makes his father very nervous.
He let out a breath he didn’t even realize he had been holding when he confirmed the hallway was empty. He pulled open the door and walked into the reception area.
The office is bustling with activity. Moretti and Associates is a real estate investment firm. If there’s a business to be constructed, he supplies the property. He buys it and flips it so fast that the ink barely has time to dry on the mortgage contracts.
His firm takes in major cash from the families in the New York area and counterparts in other states.
Jane, one of the junior brokers, spots him from across the lobby. She has an armful of papers that she lowers to ensure he can enjoy the view. And it’s fucking fabulous.
She’s got porn star tits and an ass to match, one he can ride for days. And he spent many hours doing just that. But his head’s all fucked up right now.
These older chicks think fucking him means they’re going to get in good with the boss, that if they land him, they’ll be rescued from the hellish land of appraisals and real estate comps and showered with freshly laundered hundred-dollar bills.
Not a fucking chance. Mainly because he was already taken. It happened a long time ago, and there’s nothing he can change, maybe because he doesn’t want to change it.
Hunter inhaled sharply, recalling the way Elle’s body looked in all that frilly lace the other night. He doesn’t usually pay much attention to lingerie since naked is always his goal, but on her, it was sexy as fuck. All grown up and innocent at the same time. It made him harder than an iron pole. His cock twitches at the memory.
“Hunter,” Jane purrs. Yes, she sounds just like a fucking kitten.
He has no idea why girls find that appealing. He was allergic to those vile animals. Therefore this is a quick dick deflator.