Baby Be Mine (Spinsters & Casanovas Series Book 1) (6 page)

“Come on, Dad. People make mistakes. I’m
sure we didn’t lose much.”

“We didn’t lose much?” Clinton’s face fumed
with madness and he pulled at his hair in frustration with his
no-good son.

“We lost a good three hundred grand,” he
said through gritted teeth.

“Holy shit! That much?” Hunter asked,
surprised. Surely he didn’t spend all that much. He knew the
negotiation didn’t go well, so he assumed they would lose the deal
anyway. Instead of coming home immediately, he stayed in the States
a few days extra for some much needed holiday—the last one over two
weeks prior. Plus, it was an extra bonus to see Fern, his best
friend from college, too.

“That much,” Clinton confirmed.

“Look, Dad, I’m sorry. How about if I make
it up to you somehow?” Hunter asked. He didn’t like to disappoint
his father; the old man did fund his living expenses. Anything to
make him happy.

“Good. You will go to the meeting today,”
Clinton declared.

“No. Not the meeting,” he moaned. “You know
how boring it is. The last time I was there, I fell asleep.”

“Well, you’ve got to learn somewhere. You’ll
be taking over this empire pretty soon. I’m not going to be here
forever,” Clinton said, persuading his son.

Clinton knew his son loved him and would
never intentionally disappoint him. Sure, he was a little bit of a
rotten egg once in a while, but the boy just needed some
responsibility to toughen him up and straighten his path. This time
he was sure to make his son take full responsibility, and good
practice starts with having a good mentor. He was certain Anton
would be his perfect mentor.

“Come now, Dad. Don’t talk like that.”
Hunter led his father to the azalea trestle that shaded the roof
from the sun, where there were a few outdoor seats. “Here, sit
down.” He gestured for his father to take one of the seats and
started massaging his father’s arms. “A young man like you will
live up to a hundred years.”

“Only a hundred?” Clinton smiled at his son,
a sparkle of love in his eyes, no longer angry.

“Okay, a hundred and fifty, then.” Hunter
smiled, happy his father was no longer mad at him.

“I don’t need to live that long. I just want
to see you and Anton get married, settle down, and have a
family.”

“Well, for Anton, there won’t be a problem,
but for me, well, let’s just wait and see how the future pans out.”
He scratched his nose.

“Can’t you do this much for your old man?”
Clinton asked in desperation.

Clinton knew he was getting old. He wanted
his son to have a family. More importantly, he wanted a grandchild.
He was way over sixty. His first wife, Andrea, conceived Hunter
when she was in her early thirties, while Clinton was in his
forties. Once Hunter was born, his beautiful wife had passed away,
due to cancer, leaving him to look after their baby.

He missed his wife dearly, still holding on
to their cherished memories, but he really regretted having his son
at such a late age. But Clinton was the type of man to look towards
the future. He would not let his past gloom affect his judgment for
the future. That was why it was imperative his son look for a girl
now, to stop the cycle of conceiving a baby at an older age.

“Dad, I can’t just go up to some random
girl, ask her to sleep with me, then marry her. It doesn’t work
that way with me.” Hunter interrupted his father’s train of
thought.

“You’ve been doing that already. So just ask
the question once you’ve done with the sleeping bit.” Clinton
half-heartedly argued with his son’s statement.

“Dad, I told you I can’t. I need to love the
girl. When my time comes, I’m sure I’ll find the right one for
me.”

“But if you get the girl pregnant, wouldn’t
you
have
to marry her?” Clinton took in his son’s
suggestion, smiling at the thought. “Yes, that could be a very
strong possibility. Then you could marry the girl.”

“Dad, I won’t get a girl pregnant. I
practice safe sex, so don’t dream about that,” he declared.

“Well, how do you propose to go about
getting a family, then? I’m not getting any younger. I want to see
my son married.” Clinton was back to square one again.

“I can’t answer that for you.” Hunter folded
his arm and relaxed into the chair next to his father, having had
enough of the massaging now, since his tactic of sweet action
didn’t work on his father. The man was just so adamant on finding
him the perfect girl.

“You’re not making this old man happy.”
Clinton moaned like a child whose toy had been taken away.

“Ah, come now, Dad. Stop acting like a kid.”
Hunter patted his father’s hand in comfort. “I’ll call Betty to
make you your favourite chocolate cookies. Okay?” He turned towards
the main house and shouted, “Betty, make Dad something to eat. He’s
upset again.”

Betty was Hunter’s stepmother, or more
precisely their housemaid who had turned into his stepmother. His
father had remarried when Hunter turned sixteen. No woman was like
Betty. She was amazing. In fact, she was the only woman he could
tolerate living in the same house. She was a sweet soul, and he was
glad when she agreed to marry his father.

Betty, upon hearing Hunter’s shout, came
rolling out of the kitchen door at the back of the house, dressed
in an apron, a rolling pin in her hand. Her face was white, covered
in flour.
She must be baking again,
Hunter thought.

“Betty, what are you doing? You have flour
all over your face,” Hunter said as Betty got closer.

“I was cooking something for Clinton,” she
said, waving the rolling pin in her hand.

“Right,” Hunter said, nodding his head.

Betty came closer and sniffed him.

“Master Hunter, did you bathe in alcohol?
You stink. Go and clean up.” Betty pushed Hunter towards the house
entrance.

“I didn’t bathe in it, Betty, but a maniac
woman suddenly thought it would be fun to spray me with the alcohol
she was about to ingest.”

“Serves you right, Master Hunter, for always
changing your women like you change your clothes.”

“She’s not my woman, Betty,” Hunter
retorted.

“I’m sure you’ll be chasing her up until she
becomes your woman. Am I right, Master Hunter?” Betty teased.

“Argh, all right, all right, enough with the
master,” Hunter said, wanting to shake his stepmother. She had been
his mother for over six years now, and not once did she ever call
him her son, always referring to him as
Master
. Maybe she
was scared he might be like one of those kids who would resent her
for marrying his father. Well, at first he did resent her for
coming into his father’s life, stealing away all his attention, but
after seeing how Betty had lightened his father’s life, he’d given
in.

“If you want me to stop calling you master,
then go get changed. Your odor is not so becoming here,” Betty
said, pushing Hunter even farther up the stairs after they all made
it inside the grand foyer.

“All right, all right, enough, woman,
enough.” Hunter laughed, then made his way to his suite. “I’ll get
back at you for this, Betty.”

Hunter smiled, watching his stepmother wind
her little hands around his father’s waist in a loving way, leading
his old man to the main lounge. He shook his head, then went inside
his room to wash away the stench that was staring to corrode his
nostrils.

Life for me right now is beautiful,
he thought as he stepped into the glory of the hot jet of water
spraying from the showerhead.
Good food, good life, and not a
worry in the world.
He had enough money to last him a lifetime,
without having to work. What more could he ask for? He was blessed
to have this gifted life, and he appreciated every bit of it.

Once clean and donning new clothes—Armani
suit and a black silk tie—gelling back his blond hair, he surveyed
himself in the tall closet mirror, identical to the one in his
apartment in Central Auckland.

Hunter was dressed to impress, a sweeping
image from head to toe. All the girls at the company would swoon at
the sheer sight of him. He was completely sure even old Mrs. Crood,
the moody cafeteria lady, would compliment him. He was ready to
face the death-inducing boredom of the merger meeting at Silverton
Enterprises.

An hour later, Hunter’s prediction rang
truer than a high-priced clairvoyant, as not fifteen minutes into
the meeting, he found his eyes closing of their own accord.
Everyone was speaking in jargon that he hadn’t a clue as to its
meaning. And then to top it all off, the tone of the speaker was so
monotone it literally acted as more of a catalyst to lull him to
sleep. A few times Anton had to wedge him in the stomach to jolt
him awake.

“You fell asleep during the meeting,” Anton
hissed when they went out for their coffee break. “How could you do
that? Uncle asked you specifically to attend this meeting so you
could learn, and here you were sleeping. Where is this going to put
his head now?”

“Where it always is. On his shoulders,”
Hunter said, sipping his coffee casually, not realizing it was
piping hot until he took in a good gulp and ending up scalding his
tongue, spitting the entire contents out, and hanging his tongue
out like Dori.

“Serves you right, Hunter,” Anton said,
giving him some tissue to wipe the coffee off his face.

After blotting away the remaining liquid,
Hunter picked up the cup again and glared at his cousin. “What do
you mean serves me right?”

“For sleeping during the meeting,” Anton
said. “It’s karma, Hunter, karma.”

“Karma my ass. What am I supposed to do? The
meeting was so damn boring. Why can’t they hire a better guy to
speak?”

“Hunter, stop being a kid and start acting
like an adult,” Anton lectured his cousin. “Boring or not, you’re
here to listen to what the other side says. Uncle needs you to
carry on the line here.”

“He doesn’t need me. He already has you.”
Hunter blew his steaming coffee now.

“I’m only his nephew, not his direct
offspring. Plus, I’m not fit for this.” Anton resigned to his fate
as only second in charge despite being named the best CEO of
Silverton Enterprises in
E Magazine
twice in a year.

Anton was Hunter’s only cousin. When both of
his parents passed away, Clinton became his guardian. He worked
hard to repay his debt, thus working nonstop to help gain his
uncle’s respect while his little cousin grew up. Now the time was
right for Hunter to step forth and take the role of CEO, but
looking at his cousin’s behavior now, lying back on the chair like
he hadn’t a care in the world, like he was some sort of prince
waiting for his next consort, it would be a long way yet before the
throne was acceded.

“If you’re not fit for this, then I’m worse
off,” Hunter confessed, stopping Anton’s train of thought.

“You need to step up your game.” Anton
offered Hunter his advice. “Stop partying and start taking things
seriously. Money isn’t always on our side. We have to work for
it.”

“We have all the money in the world.” Hunter
laughed casually. “I won’t have to worry about working for the rest
of my life.”

“Don’t you have any goals, any
responsibility?” Anton questioned his cousin.

“Yeah, I do. And that is to have as much fun
as possible before I reach your age.”

“Hunter, I’m only thirty one.”

“That’s right. That’s why I still have a
good eight years to go yet before putting my head down to
work.”

“But I started working way before your
age.”

“That’s because it was old time. Now it’s
the new age. I don’t need to slave and work for money. And besides,
you guys can support me.”

“We’re not always going to be here for you,
you know. You have to learn to earn your own money too.”

“Until then,” Hunter said, folding his arms
behind his head and relaxing further against his chair, “this
Hunter here will only have one goal in life. And that, cousin, is
to have as much fun as possible.”

“God, there’s no getting into your head, is
there?” Anton said, frustrated.

“Not at all, cousin, not at all,” Hunter
said, his eyes drifting closed, fully relaxed now, taking in the
glory of the afternoon sunlight.

Hunter loved coming into the company at this
time of day. There were hardly any employees around and no office
girl peeking at him like he was some sort of Greek god. Oh, wait,
he did resemble a Greek god, but that was beside the point. He
loved the cafeteria best, with its large skylight that allowed
sunlight to pour in. Whenever he had to frequent the company, he
would make sure to sit here to get the maximum amount of
sunlight.

Anton sighed at his cousin in defeat. “And
where were you last night? I called many times. Were you clubbing
again?”

“You read my mind, cousin. You read my
mind,” Hunter murmured in reply.

“Hunter, I don’t know what to do with
you.”

“You don’t have to do anything. Just let me
be myself.”

“Obviously I can’t. Here, for you,” Anton
said, extracting a card from his coat pocket and placing it on the
table in front of Hunter.

“What’s that?” Hunter asked, opening his
eyes and gesturing to the card.

“Uncle arranged a meeting for you with this
woman,” Anton said.

“A woman?” Hunter asked, sitting up
straighter, his interest now piqued. “Is she hot?”

“Don’t know. But Uncle wants you to meet
her.”

“Don’t tell me Dad wants to match-make me.
I’m not ready for that shit yet.”

“I don’t know. Uncle didn’t say more.”

“I just bloody saw him this morning. Why
didn’t he say anything?”

“Again, don’t know,” Anton answered. “But
will you go?”

“Well, yeah. If she’s hot,” Hunter stated as
if it were the most obvious answer.

Anton just shook his head, giving up
entirely on trying to change his cousin’s behavior. He only wished
something would befall his playboy of a cousin so he could learn
his lesson and step up to the real world.