I know it comes from a place of protectiveness, though. Caleb knows something he shouldn’t about Hunter, and I still don’t consider him very trustworthy. The idea of anyone deliberately hurting Hunter fills me with rage.
I don’t like Caleb because I know he possesses the tools to do it.
Hunter tells me that in life, you need to keep your friends close and your enemies closer.
I can’t imagine calling someone a friend when the delineation between whether that person is a friend or an enemy is quite so blurry.
But Hunter and I are very different people. If it works for him, I suppose that’s okay. And, to be honest, I think all of Caleb’s friends are just one small step from enemy territory.
Whatever their arrangement, the friendship hasn’t been without its perks for either of us. Caleb seems to be the gatekeeper to the New York elite. Anyone who’s anyone knows him, and his contact list spans all walks of life. He can make you or break you with little more than a phone call.
He’s your go-to guy whether you need to know where to get the finest suit in the city, or you have some money to invest in a risky venture that could potentially quadruple your net worth. If you’re seeking a fence to sell you stolen antiquities, or you want to auction off something that can’t really be sold.
He knows royals and thieves, business magnates and models. He knows the kinds of people most of us aren’t even sure exist.
Hunter told me once that some of Caleb’s friends are mafia, that they come to his card games and gamble away small fortunes and favors that surpass any possible price tag.
Caleb Grant knows everybody, but I don’t get the sense that anybody truly knows Caleb Grant.
I can’t trust a person like that, and I don’t like Hunter being too close to him.
In an attempt to keep my mind off Hunter’s business dealings with his troublesome friend, I curl up in the bed in my bathrobe and browse wedding cake designs.
That’s what I’m doing when the door opens and my handsome future husband comes strolling in.
He looks sexy as hell in a black button down and matching slacks. He’s wearing a burgundy sport coat because wherever he met Caleb was the kind of place that requires them.
“Hello, beautiful,” he says.
I smile at him. “Hello, handsome.”
Flicking a gaze at my robe as he takes his jacket off, he tells me, “You better be naked under there.”
“Of course I am,” I tell him. He may not be my “boss” due to blackmailing anymore, but I do like when he bosses me around a little bit about sexy things. “I’m in full-on wedding mode over here. I found our perfect cake. Wanna see?”
He nods, kicking off his shoes and crossing the room. He’s still wearing clothes when he climbs on the bed, but as soon as he’s near enough, he reaches over and unties the belt keeping my robe closed.
“See,” I say, showing him my phone.
The wedding cake design I’ve fallen in love with is, perhaps predictably, a tower of books. The bride and groom sit on top dangling their legs over the edge of the top book, and that reminds me of how our legs dangle when we sit on the bridge behind his house.
I think it’s perfect. I hope he agrees.
A smile grazes his lips as he looks at it. “Yep, that’s the one.” His hand slides under my robe so he can caress my breast.
My wedding planning interest swiftly disintegrates, replaced by a hastily growing interest in having sex with my fiancé.
I shove my phone away, lying back against the pillow as he teases my nipple.
“Um… how was your business meeting with Caleb?”
He smiles at my splintered focus and runs his thumb over my pebbled nipple again. “It went well. He sends his regards.”
“I bet he does,” I murmur.
Hunter smiles. “I know he’s not your favorite person, but he’s very good at making money.”
“He’s good at making trouble, too.”
“He is.” Hunter releases my breast and slides his hand around my waist, his amusement ebbing. “But that’s why he’s a much better friend to have than an enemy.” Tilting his beautiful head to kiss my neck as he tugs me closer, he murmurs, “It’s not so bad being his friend, is it? Eating at his restaurant when we’re in town, lazing around his family’s Hamptons house in the summertime…”
Sighing with pleasure, I tilt my neck to give him better access. “There are worse fates, I suppose.”
“I invited him to Milan for fashion week.”
“As long as he’s not flying there with us,” I say. “Your friends are too much trouble to spend much time alone with.”
Hunter smirks. “I won’t invite your buddy Sherlock to fly to Italy with us, how about that?”
My fingers tangle in his hair as he parts my robe and exposes more of my bare skin. “We should only ever go places with Mom and Ray, it would be more fun that way.”