Chapter 8: Didn't You Come Here to Be With Me?

When Willow awoke again, she found herself leaning against Hunter's shoulder, his large hand resting on her waist.

With just a turn of her head, Willow could smell his scent—woody with a hint of masculine aftershave, as intoxicating as a potent aphrodisiac.

Hunter was on the phone.

He kept his voice low, but it was stern.

Taking calls in the infusion room was inappropriate, but he was so striking that the women around them kept staring at him with looks that could melt Attorney Hawke.

Hunter finished his call and noticed Willow was awake.

Her previously pale face now had a hint of pink, her eyes confused yet innocent as she looked at him—quite alluring to any man.

Hunter asked flatly, "You're awake. How long were you planning to lean on me?"

Willow blushed and quickly sat up straight.

Hunter picked up his jacket and put away his phone. Looking at her, he said, "I'll take you home."

Willow felt embarrassed to trouble him further, but Hunter was insistent.

On the way, he received a call. After a brief conversation, he told Willow, "I need to stop by my apartment to pick up a fax. I'll take you home after that."

Willow hesitated.

She understood what it meant for a woman to visit a single man's apartment. But then she thought self-mockingly: A man like Hunter Hawke wouldn't lack female company—he had no need for such tactics!

Willow remained silent, which Hunter took as agreement.

...

Hunter's apartment was located in Brooksville's prime area, around 2,000 square feet, with luxurious decorations that made it look like a showroom.

Hunter asked Willow to wait in the living room while he went to his study.

The other party sent the fax, which he received and then called his assistant to give some instructions.

After finishing his business, Hunter was about to take Willow home when his phone rang in his pocket.

The unique ringtone belonged to someone special.

Hunter's expression changed slightly, his entire body tensing as he took out his phone... Indeed, it was that person calling.

After a long moment, he ended the call.

The person on the other end, equally proud, didn't call back.

Hunter's mood soured dramatically. He took out a bottle of strong liquor from the bar cabinet.

After two and a half glasses, he stood by the floor-to-ceiling window with his drink, silently gazing into the dark night...

Willow had been waiting outside for a long time.

At first, she could hear the sound of the fax machine, but after Hunter's phone rang, there was silence. Concerned, she gently pushed open the study door.

Hunter had his back to her.

Willow couldn't see his face, but his silhouette was filled with loneliness.

A woman's intuition told her that Hunter had someone in his heart, and he was reminiscing about that person.

Not wanting to disturb him, she turned to leave.

"Stop!"

From behind came Hunter's slightly hoarse voice.

Willow froze, and then felt herself being gently embraced.

Hunter lightly nibbled on Willow's slender neck, his warm breath tickling her ear, "Didn't you come here to be with me?"

Willow couldn't deny it.

A voice inside told her that Hunter was in a bad mood, and even if they slept together, he might not acknowledge it afterward.

But her limbs felt weak, and she couldn't resist.

The night was seductive.

Against the floor-to-ceiling window of the luxury apartment on the 24th floor in the city center, Willow's delicate wrists were pinned firmly against the glass.

Hunter knew how to torment her, his subtle techniques nearly driving her mad.

He had been drinking, yet he observed her with a clear mind.

...

Willow never experienced his possession.

With misty eyes and a husky voice, she asked, "Hunter... what's wrong?"

The desire in Hunter's eyes was completely gone.

He stepped back and said coldly, "Miss Wright, I had some alcohol and lost my composure."

Willow's face immediately paled as embarrassment washed over her.