After My Death, My Husband Who Threw Me Into the Hunting Grounds Went Insane novel Chapter 90

AUDREY

"It was a disaster," answered Chelsea when Stark asked about our day. He now sat in front of us in a five-star restaurant in the Waldorf hotel. There was no point in insisting that we were fine staying at the hotel. Knowing my boss, when he said something, it meant he wanted everyone around him to obey.

Stark frowned at my best friend's answer. "Why so?"

"Her father—ugh!" she grunted. "It's not my place to speak." Chelsea held my hand.

"My father…" I sighed. "He's just like always. We don't get along, that's all," I answered as simply as I could. There's no way I would tell my boss how pathetic my life was. Especially now, with him in person. It was usual for Stark to have a sudden business that was not in his schedule. I literally just told him about this emergency trip this morning, and here it was.

Stark picked up the cup of his coffee and took a sip. "So, you just decided to stay somewhere else, is that it?"

Chelsea and I exchanged the same look, then I nodded.

"Well." He put his cup down. "I already reserved a room for the two of you in this hotel. I'll be here until tonight, but I have a meeting tomorrow morning—"

"You are leaving?" I interrupted him, not that I wanted to. 

His brows met. "I'm going to see Mr. Delaine of La Moda Francia. He's currently in Scottsdale."

He's not very far, I thought. But yes, I had heard of Mr. Delaine. I was surprised that he was here. On the other hand, I thought Stark was still thinking of working with him. Before my employment, I heard that they had already invited us to run a fashion show in Paris in collaboration with La Moda Francia. Stark declined because he was currently running a project with the Spanish designer. 

 "You agreed to tie-up with him, Mr. Stark?" Chelsea asked. His arrival here was starting to make sense. It was so stupid of me to think, on the other hand, that he was here to see me. Really stupid.

"It's for our next winter campaign," he answered. 

Chelsea nodded, then chuckled. "My boss probably knows. I wondered why he didn't tell me."

"Winter is still in December next year. We still have more than a year. Sixteen months to be exact," I concluded.

"That's right." Stark flashed his signature sexy half-smile. "Very well. You should settle in your rooms first. I'll speak to you in an hour, Miss Hopkins."

"Rooms?" Chelsea refrained when Stark already sprang up and headed out. I looked at her with the same astonished expression. 

A concierge greeted us in the lobby and gave us a keycard. Our boss gave us two separate rooms.

I was even more surprised when I saw my room. It wasn't just any economy motel inn with a single bed and a small bathroom. It was an executive suite. My guess about Mr. Stark was right after all. He loved to display how wealthy he was.

I strolled around the suite room, admired the king-sized four-poster bed, a fireplace, and the bathroom that was made for a queen. It had a clawfoot bathtub with flowers in the water, and everything smelled so good.

Chelsea walked inside ten minutes later. I stood by the floor-to-ceiling glass wall by the bed, showcasing the city skyline.

"How lucky we are that your boss has a business meeting to attend in the area. I just love the rooms, but isn't this odd?"

I looked at her. "What's odd?"

"This. He is suddenly here."

"Stark is enigmatic in all ways. He does things beyond our thinking."

She crossed her arms. "Well, that's right. People chase him for it. It's just amazing how generous he is. He was raised by a respectable family also known for their philanthropy. I saw his parents once at the company Christmas party. His mother is one of a kind."

Chelsea's description struck me in awe, and somehow I felt jealous. My family was never kind and had always been self-centered. If what she was saying was true, the Starks must be the definition of a perfect family. Coulson Stark, his younger brother, himself was exceptional. He was nice and approachable to the employees, despite the competitive workplace. 

"But it's still odd to find him here." She clicked her tongue. "Maybe he's followed you," she kidded, winking an eye.

"Very funny, Chelsea."

"Why not? He couldn't take his eyes off you." Her voice sounded even more incredulous. "What do you think about him?"

"Well…" I bit my lower lip, suddenly remembering something. I looked at Chelsea. "Don't tell anyone, okay?"

Her smile widened as well as her eyes. She patted my arm. "My goodness! I knew something was going on! What is it? Did he make a move?"

"No!" I instantly denied it. "But he asked me. He told me he wanted a painting of me." 

Chelsea's mouth dropped. Her cheeks flushed. She almost squealed, but she covered her mouth. I wasn't sure if I could even tell her things like this, but I kind of thought about it ever since Stark asked me about it. I still got butterflies from remembering it.

"You little witch!" She slapped my arm hard this time, and she laughed loudly.

"Aw!" 

"When did this happen?"

"The other day, at the art exhibit."

"Oh, my God, Audrey…" She was still in shock. "How did he say it? Come, come. Why don't we talk about it?"

My best friend dragged me to the couch and slumped comfortably. 

"Tell me more! Why didn't you tell me?" 

I curled into one piece, lifting my feet on the cushion. "I couldn't. It sounded ridiculous. How could a man like him say something like that?"

 "But still… God, Audrey!" she said breathlessly. "This is Stark we are talking about. Gabriel Stark. I still can't believe it."

I felt my cheeks get red. "Please don't tell anybody."

"Of course not! I don't want to see your corpse one day on the street because his followers have slain you. What did you say?"

"Huh?"

"You are too far. How can we hear each other?" 

"Oh." I moved a little closer but still at a distance. I heard Stark exhale and move close.

I swallowed hard, still unable to breathe. His scent was making me dizzy… in a good way. He smelled so male, mild soap, and earthy perfume. It made me want to drink him in. I ached to touch his hair and sit on his lap. Damn me.

I bit my lip hard.

"I know it's not the right time to talk about this given your situation, but I'll be crazy otherwise."

I looked up at him, dumbfounded. "If this is about the painting—"

"I want to fuck you, Miss Hopkins."

My eyes widened. Air abandoned my lungs. His voice was soft but intense, and the atmosphere suddenly felt heavy. My cheeks were redder than ever, and every hair on my body stood.

I stood up immediately in panic, but he grasped my wrist and brought me back. "Don't," he whispered. "Don't ignore me."

My mind was still having a hard time absorbing what he said. "My answer is no, Mr. Stark. You can leave now, and I will forget what you said."

His grip on my wrist tightened. "I'm not asking nor seeking your permission."

My chest tightened, and I hated that it turned me on. I was mad at myself. I had successfully gotten away from his grip. I stood up. 

"What made you think I want to sleep with you?" I raged. "Oh, please don't say anything about paying me again because I'm not that kind of woman to—"

He interrupted me with his delicious laugh. 

"When I said I want a painting of you, I'm going to pay you for talent fee, but when I said I want to fuck you…" He stood up, dwarfing me with his height. "It'll be for free."

I caught my mouth to prevent myself from any more violent reaction. I almost screamed at his face. Stark gently held my wrist again and brought my palms to his ample chest. He felt hard. I quivered against him. I held my breath.

One hand slid on my neck, and his thumb brushed my cheek. Suddenly, he frowned as if mad, but his eyes were confused. 

"Why, Miss Hopkins—" the confusion in his face grew—"I still sense your innocence."

My mouth parted. He asked as if it was something he knew but was still shocked to know the truth. How could he know I was still a virgin?

"What?" I gulped hard. "I'm not as innocent as you think I am," I said bitterly. I looked away, but he cupped my face and made me look at his eyes again.

 "You are to me…"