Baby Be Mine Page 9

  Hunter didn’t like where this conversation was heading. He recognized the smirk on his father’s face, the one he’d inherited and often pasted on his own face when an evil idea popped in his head. He even dreaded asking, “How?”

  “Go to Queenstown next week.”

  “Choice!” Hunter slammed his palm on the table in happiness. And here he thought his father was going to come up with some ridiculous idea, like another matchmaking scheme.

  Queenstown meant skiing, and he loved skiing. Plus, there was also an abundance of other dangerous sports the South Island had to offer—jet skiing, sky diving, abseiling. How crazy! He just couldn’t wait any longer.

  “With Caroline,” his father finally added.

  Hunter’s excitement died down like a flat battery. He knew it. And here he thought he could have another fun holiday. What a way to take the candy from a child.

  “What? Why?” Hunter whined in disappointment.

  “You are going to escort Caroline to Queenstown. She’s never been to that part of the country before, so I think you could be the perfect candidate for it.”

  “I’m not perfect, Dad. Why don’t you ask Anton? I’m sure he would be happy to escort such a lovely lady like Caroline,” he suggested.

  “No, Anton has to work. He’s too busy organizing the Dental Hygiene Conference over there. So you’re the only one left. Unless you want to help organize the conference and leave Anton free to entertain Caroline.” Clinton pretended to ask his son, offering the choice of whether to have another holiday or work. In the end, the choice was his son’s alone. And whichever he chose, his son would fall into his trap.

  “No, I’ll entertain her,” Hunter interjected before his dad could come to a decision for him. Escorting Caroline around Queenstown would definitely be boring, but not to the extent of death, which was sure to be the result of organizing the conference. That was definitely not his cup of tea.

  “Just as I thought,” Clinton said. Right into the trap. “So we’re settled, then?”

  “Yes,” Hunter grumpily agreed.

  “Now, get out of my sight before I have a heart attack for real,” his father shouted.

  “Yes, Dad,” Hunter grumbled under his breath as he closed the door of his father’s office.

  Hunter hated being told what to do. And right now, he hated being forced to go to Queenstown with Caroline. And his mood just got worse when he saw Winton, his father’s secretary, out near the elevator.

  “Master Hunter. How are you today?” Winton spoke, rubbing his hands together.

  “Foul!” Hunter said in gloomy monosyllable, putting on his D&B shades, even inside the hotel lobby because it just made him look cool, while he continued heading to his car. Winton’s little feet trailed after him like a little servant’s.

  Hunter didn’t like Winton. The man always had this sneaky look about him, as if he were hiding some secret or something. But because Hunter hardly came into the company, he didn’t know what the man was up to. Maybe he should be more careful. Come into the company more often—if not to work, at least to get the free chocolate bar that was out for the guests’ indulgence.

  “Foul mood? Can I do anything to help alleviate it?” Winton asked, hoping to please Hunter, but it only had the opposite effect.

  “Yes,” Hunter said, turning to face Winton. And with a loud voice, he ordered, “Get out of my sight.”

  “Oh, Master Hunter, I would very much like to get out of your sight, but Master Anton would like a word with you,” Winton pointed out as the reason he had been following him.

  “Don’t speak like you’re my teacher, Winton,” he said, then stalked off, leaving Winton to stare at his retreating back.

  “I wonder what’s wrong with Master Hunter,” Winton said, scratching his head in confusion, then made his way back to his desk.

  “What do you want?” Hunter chimed in the middle of the meeting being held between Anton and his associates, regarding the upcoming Dental Hygiene Conference in Queenstown.

  Anton looked at his cousin, poised in mid-speech, when Hunter burst into the meeting room. Shaking his head in resignation at his cousin’s usual behavior, entering the meeting room like a five-year-old in the middle of a tantrum, he gestured for Hunter to seat himself near the corner, where there were a handful of toys and books.

  What does he think I am, a kid? Hunter thought, fuming as he slouched himself down on the plush black couch. Now he really felt like a little kid who’d been grounded. Why was everyone treating him like a child these days? First his dad ordering him around and now Anton gesturing for him to sit in the corner like a disobedient little boy.

  Blast this! He stood from the couch and slammed the door so loud it almost vibrated off the hinges, then stalked off to his car, leaving Anton apologizing to his associates for the racket he had created on his way out.

  After driving for a full ten minutes, Hunter’s mood still did not improve. In fact, it only deepened his already foul temperament because there were traffic jams every three seconds. The one time he got stuck in traffic for only fifteen minutes, he ended up cursing the lights and nearly went insane until the cars began to move again at their snail’s pace.

  What the hell is wrong with Auckland today? he cursed. It’s only goddamn two o’clock in the afternoon. Rush hour wasn’t until five, when most headed home from work.

  After successfully moving away from the main highway, Hunter found himself in a part of town that wasn’t quite the area he would normally populate. There, many houses were too small for his liking. How could people live in such cramped spaces?

  Because Hunter was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, he didn’t understand. Even his apartment in Central Auckland boasted more than the usual three bedrooms, and the square footage was beyond ample.

  In this area, the houses were too small, the footpaths too small, and the road was also goddamned small. It only fit one car. As for the scenery, there was hardly anything to look at, just some random bushes here and there. It wasn’t worth a second glance.

  Where was he, anyway? In a dump?

  And then he miraculously saw her, the avocado woman, aimlessly walking down that narrow road, ambling toward town like she had amnesia.

  What was she doing? Did she want to kill herself? What if a car came zooming past? She would surely die. If not, then she would at least suffer some internal injury that would require weeks in the hospital.

  Wait! Why was he even concerned about the welfare of this avocado anyway? Shouldn’t he be teasing—

  Ahhh. Hunter gave an evil smirk when a brilliant idea emerged in his head. Just the perfect person on which to vent his anger and frustration. Then with a blast of his horn to its full capacity that was sure to awake even the dead, he alerted her attention to his presence, announcing to her that the Greek god had finally arrived.

  Chapter 10

  Clarice, who was the targeted person at hand, almost had a heart attack when she heard the horn blast. It shrilled in her ears, awakening her from her zombie-like state.

  She stared in the direction where the blast had came from, when the driver suddenly made his appearance, striding toward her like he was modeling for Calvin Klein clothing on a catwalk, wearing D&B shaded glasses. His long legs swallowed up the distance between them, and in an instant he stood facing her, his shades still covering his roguish eyes.

  Who is this man? Clarice thought, slightly alarmed, as her heart began to race. He sure looked familiar. Then the man took off his shades, and she almost bit her own tongue.

  “My, my, my, if it isn’t Madam Avocado.” Hunter smirked. “Are you so desperate to die that you choose to end your life on the road?”

  “You Casanova!” Clarice seethed under her breath. She couldn’t believe that at the time when her life was at its lowest point, she had to keep running into this man. And it wasn’t just once or twice; it had to be three times. Way too many times for her liking.

  “Yes, Hunter’s the name, reme
mber?” Hunter said slyly. “But if you prefer to call me Casanova, I don’t mind either way. Right, Madam Avocado?”

  “Stop calling me Avocado! My name is Clarice.”

  “I think it suits you. Madam because you’re old, and Avocado…” Hunter pretended to rub his nose like he was in the process of thinking. “Because you’re old,” he finally said, teasing her.

  “Arrrgghhh…” Clarice gritted her teeth. “I should just bite my tongue right now.”

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea. There’s no hospital near here,” Hunter said, then started following her when she walked away from him.

  “What are you doing blasting your horn like that? You almost gave me a heart attack.”

  “I did? Wow, I would love to see it in action. The hot and handsome Hunter causing you to have a heart attack because I’m just so damn good-looking.”

  “Good-looking?” Clarice scoffed. “More like a showoff. What do you want anyway? Why are you here? Go away. Stop following me.”

  “Even if you pay me, Avocado, I wouldn’t be seen following you, but since I ran across you here, I might as well just get it off my chest,” Hunter said.

  “What is it?” Clarice asked, stopping in mid-stride to face him, annoyed at his presence.

  “I came to ask for compensation,” Hunter stated, thinking on the spot as to the reason he was following the avocado like a loyal puppy.

  “For what?” Clarice asked. “What compensation?”

  “For ruining my shirt when you spit on it at the night club.”

  “That baby-blue shirt?”

  “Yes, the one that cost me $500.”

  “$500? You’re kidding, right?” Clarice’s eyes almost bulged out of their sockets. How could a shirt cost $500? Was he playing a joke on her?

  “Not kidding. It’s branded,” Hunter said. “Now, how are you going to pay for it? I don’t take cheques or bank deposit. I prefer money on hand.”

  “I don’t have that much cash on me right now,” Clarice said, clutching her wallet.

  “It’s fine, then. Give me your business card,” Hunter said with his palm held out.

  “Why?” Clarice eyed him suspiciously.

  “So I can phone to remind you to pay me back,” he said. “Surely you don’t want me to add in the interest as well, do you?”

  “For business purposes only, right?” Clarice said, rummaging through her bag to find her business card. “Not to annoy me, okay?”

  “Fine, fine,” Hunter said, brushing her question aside, palm still extended for Clarice to deposit her business card once she found it.

  “Clarice Chantee Mason,” he said. Then with a quirk of an eyebrow, he asked, “Are you half Asian?”

  “Yes,” Clarice said proudly. “I’m half Cambodian.”

  “I’ve been to Cambodia. It’s a lovely country,” Hunter said.

  The truth was Hunter had much involvement with the Khmer people. Every year his father would hand out large amounts of funding for different charities. One particular year, when he turned twenty, he had a very strong desire to go to Cambodia. He didn’t know why, but he had to go. His dad and Anton went with him. When they set foot on the land, they immediately loved it.

  Cambodia was breathtakingly beautiful, with rice fields covering hectares and hectares of countryside that looked like blades of grass from the distance, grass that reached up to touch the sky like the ocean here in New Zealand, spanning from one horizon to the next, as far as the eyes can see.

  Wherever there was beauty, there was also destruction. And that was what happened to the people of Cambodia. Due to the lack of resources and outside support, the Khmer people suffered much loss after the destruction of the Khmer Rogue War from 1975 to 1979. There were many orphans as a result of this, and the healthcare system was in shambles.

  At the conclusion of their visit, his dad had said he would build a foundation there in Cambodia for the underprivileged. Upon setting up a charity, further support was also provided by way of education for small children, building schools, orphanages, and housing for the families who needed extra care.

  Silverton Enterprises’ motto was this: “Help the people to help themselves.” His father valued firmness and honesty in any kind of business. Their foundation was not meant to simply give the residents money. They provided the basic necessities such as education and healthcare so they could in turn earn or provide a living for themselves. His father liked to think of their foundation as a stepping-stone, giving the citizens the tools needed to help themselves and future generations. His father had even begun trading goods with the Cambodians.

  Truth be told, Hunter knew his wayward ways were really just a façade. He had seen so much in Cambodia that it affected him, a scar engraved in his heart, refusing to be healed. So why did he continue to act like a Casanova and pretend to have a carefree life? The truth rested in the fact that he wanted Anton to inherit his dad’s empire. He had already planned this from the start.

  Anton had been orphaned at a young age. He had worked so hard to help his dad build up his empire so there was no way in hell he, Hunter Silverton, would be named the heir when he didn’t really do anything to contribute to its wealth.

  Anton was an amazing person and he was glad to have him as a cousin, although he saw Anton as more of a big brother. He could remember when he was still in his teens, Anton was already helping out his dad with the business. So Anton deserved to be the heir, not him. He knew he had made the right choice. And so he must keep up this stupid façade, sleeping with random women, frivolously spending his father’s money, and most of all, refusing to take any responsibility in the business.

  Some nights he wondered when he would find the right woman who would actually help him fall asleep for real, without the help of sex or alcohol. After his mum passed away during his birth, he had always slept alone, being bottled fed instead of breastfed. Therefore, there was always this niggling need to be loved and feel loved, to have a body lying next to him, to comfort him when he cried, to pat his head when he did well, to soothe his pain when he was hurt, or to comfort him simply for the sake of comforting him and loving him. Betty was nice, but she was his stepmom. And she didn’t come into his life until much later, when his father spotted her among the other maids.

  “It is,” Clarice said after a while, bringing his thoughts back to the present. “We went there a few years ago to create a dental practice for the children in Battambang.”

  Hunter gazed at the avocado. She held an expression of nostalgia. He smiled and was lost there for a minute as she gazed out into some faraway place, her thoughts in another time.

  Hunter felt a little guttered that he didn’t get to go to Battambang. Their foundation was set up in the Central Province, near the capital of Cambodia, Phnom Penh. Maybe if he went at the end of this year, he could explore that part of the country and check out her clinic.

  “Have you been to Angkor Watt?” Clarice asked all of a sudden, forgetting about their bickering.

  “Yes, I have. It’s beautiful.”

  Now both of their faces held that faraway look, both casting back to the time when each stood in front of the ancient intricate stone temple that stood so majestic, surrounded by a scenic moat covered with lily pads. From afar, when the sun set on the far horizon behind the temple, the whole scenery was transformed by the glowing reflection of the bright-orange light on the moat, giving the temple an ambient glow that looked so picturesque, like a painting on canvas. This would be the kind of image Hunter would treasure forever.

  “I know it is,” Clarice said, reflecting Hunter’s thought. “Apparently the country had some Indian influence, followed by the French. When I was there, they served a lot of baguettes.”

  Why was she telling Hunter about her heritage? Why was she even having this conversation with this man anyway? They were not friends. Her nostalgic expression transformed dramatically into a scowl when she realized this.

  “Cambodia is beautiful,” Hunter
stated. Then his eyes turned mischievous as he gazed at her. “Lovely country with lovely people, unlike here. The one Cambodian I’ve met had to spit on me on our second meeting.”

  “Why back to the spitting incident again?” Clarice fumed again. Here she almost thought he was a pleasant man to talk to, what with both of them liking Cambodia and whatnot, but now he was back to being that annoying man again.

  “Well, that is why I’m here,” Hunter said simply with a shrug of his shoulder.

  “You… arrggh. I’ll personally deposit that money into your bank account tomorrow. And don’t ask for cash because I don’t carry that much. Just text me your bank information later. Now I’m leaving. Don’t follow me.”

  Clarice turned to walk away. But it was only a few seconds later when she heard footsteps beside her, and turning around, she saw Hunter smiling his seductive charm toward her again, the same he used with her at his house when she delivered those roses. This time, though, she was not fazed.

  “Now what?” she shouted at him.

  “I was just thinking why we always seem to run into each other like this.” Hunter walked in front of Clarice and blocked her way. “Don’t you think the wheel of fate is playing a hand in this?” he asked with amusement.

  “No. I don’t think the wheel of fate has a hand in this. I think it’s more like the wheel of misfortune,” Clarice said, then turned on her heel and walked around Hunter while he just burst into a fit of laughter.

  “Really?” he managed to say after he caught his breath. “I like to think of it as fate. Like we’re meant to be rivals or enemies for life; that’s why I keep seeing you everywhere,” he said as he took off after her again.

  “What are you doing? Go back to your car. Stop following me.” Clarice shooed Hunter away as if she were shooing away an eager Labrador.

  “I’m not following you. I’m only taking a leisurely walk. It’s a nice day for a walk.”