His Last name, My Secret

The Man He Used to Be

Chapter 9

The woman approached swiftly, her arms snaking around Hunter’s neck as she blew a stream of cigarette smoke into his face.

“Hi, handsome. Wanna go for a ride?” she purred, her tone laced with flirtation.

Hunter studied her intently, his gaze sweeping from head to toe. She was fair-skinned, slender, undeniably beautiful—and there was something in her bearing, her aura, that suggested foreign roots. He wondered why someone like her was working in a place like this, entertaining men of wealth and power. She didn’t look desperate; in fact, she looked like she belonged in their world. Perhaps she had become rich because of men like him. In short, this woman was a walker—a w***e.

He cupped her smooth jaw, locking eyes with her round, expressive gaze. But Hunter showed no emotion. Without a word, he reached for her hair and yanked it hard. She flinched, caught off guard, but a moment later she responded with a kiss and a tight embrace. She moaned softly when Hunter’s hand slid between her thighs, brushing against the slit beneath her lace panties—accentuating the graceful curves of her body.

“I didn’t expect tonight’s client to be so hot and handsome,” she whispered into his ear, then bit his earlobe playfully.

Hunter smirked, amused. “Were you expecting a wealthy senior citizen?”

Her laughter rang out, but he didn’t join in. Without warning, he pushed her down onto the couch and spread her long legs wide. He didn’t waste time—Hunter never cared for foreplay. He preferred being the one satisfied. As he thrust into her, her moans grew louder, her nails digging into his back as he moved deeper inside her.

“Ohhh, harder!” she begged, and he obliged, increasing his pace.

When he felt himself nearing release, he pulled out abruptly and spilled across her stomach. The woman looked visibly disappointed, clearly having not reached her climax. She rolled her eyes in frustration, which only made Hunter smirk.

“Another round?” he asked with a playful smile.

She didn’t answer, so he sat down and pulled her onto his lap. Soon enough, she was moaning again, moving above him in a steady rhythm. He felt her trembling as she climaxed repeatedly. But just before he reached his own release, he slid out from beneath her and finished on her backside.

Breathless, they both fell silent. She lit a cigarette, exhaled smoke into the air, then offered it to him. Hunter shook his head.

He didn’t like cigarettes. He preferred whiskey after f*****g random girls.

He stood, pulled on his boxers, and retrieved an envelope from his coat pocket. Without a word, he tossed it into her lap.

She glanced up, confused. “You’re kicking me out?”

“That’s your payment. You can go now,” he said flatly. “I don’t want you here.”

Her brows furrowed. “Excuse me? You paid for my time—I’m supposed to be your companion tonight. And I doubled my price,” she added slyly.

Hunter’s expression darkened. He didn’t like being contradicted. In one swift move, he stood and grabbed her by the arm, despite her still being half-naked. She winced from his grip, prompting him to let go.

“I said get out,” he warned in a low, firm voice.

Shoulders slumped, she picked up her lace panties and robe from the couch, glaring sharply at him.

“I waited a long time just to sleep with you, hoping you’d become my client—and now you’re throwing me out in less than an hour?” she snapped.

“Can you shut your mouth and leave before I do something you’ll regret?” he barked back, his voice rising in anger.

She snatched the envelope off the couch and stormed out, slamming the door behind her.

Hunter stood motionless for a moment, staring at the closed door, listening to the fading echo of her heels against the marble hallway. The air was thick with smoke, s*x, and something else he couldn’t quite name—an emptiness that had become far too familiar. He grabbed a glass from the minibar, poured himself two fingers of scotch, and took a slow sip.

His reflection in the mirror above the bar met him with a cold stare. Sharp jaw, slightly tousled hair, a body sculpted by discipline—and eyes that had long since stopped caring. He looked every bit the powerful man women chased and men envied. But beneath that was someone else. Someone even he no longer recognized.

He sat back on the leather armchair, letting the silence settle in. His phone buzzed on the table, but he ignored it. After the third buzz, he picked it up. One message.

Unknown Number:

“She left. You weren’t supposed to scare her off. That wasn’t part of the deal.”

Hunter’s jaw clenched. He knew exactly who it was. Tossing the phone back onto the table, he took another drink.

A knock came—soft, tentative, unlike the usual knock from hotel staff or security. He didn’t answer. Whoever it was knocked again.

Hunter stood and walked slowly to the door, his bare feet silent against the hardwood floor. He opened it.

A different woman stood there. Younger, quieter, wrapped in a dark coat far too heavy for the room’s warmth. Her face was familiar—too familiar.

“Sophia,” he said flatly.

“Can I come in?” Her voice was steady, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes. Nerves? Regret? Maybe both.

He stepped aside wordlessly, letting her in. She walked past him and stopped in front of the window, gazing out over the city skyline. The lights glittered like stars trying to outshine the darkness between them.

“You’ve changed,” she said after a moment.

“I had to.” He poured another drink and offered one to her, but she shook her head.

“I saw her—your wife,” she said.

Hunter didn’t respond. He lit a cigarette and exhaled slowly.

“She kinda looked like me,” Sophia added, glancing over her shoulder at him.

“That was intentional.”

There was a long silence.

“You don’t have to do this, Hunter. Whatever game you’re playing—with them, with yourself—you don’t have to lose yourself in the process. Our parents already tore us apart long ago because of that arranged marriage.”

He laughed bitterly. “Too late for you to rant about regrets. You didn’t do anything when you found out I was getting married—you knew, and you stayed silent and pursued me to marry instead."

Sophia turned fully toward him, her eyes no longer soft but sharp. “They’re watching you. Every move you make, every woman you bring here. Don’t blame me for choosing to walk away.”

Hunter’s expression hardened. “Then why are you here? To warn me? To save me from my goddamn married life, after you left me?”

“No,” she said firmly. “I’m here because I still remember the man you used to be. And I need to know if any part of him is still left. Be good to your wife.”

He looked at her for a long moment—long enough for the scotch to burn down his throat and leave a bitter trail. He let out a loud, humorless laugh before finishing his glass.

“You shouldn’t have come,” he finally said.

“Neither should you,” she shot back. “You’re supposed to be sleeping with your wife, not with other women.”

“Get out.”

“Hmm…”

Sophia stepped closer and shoved Hunter until he dropped onto the couch.

“You use other women—so why not use me? After all, we used to do this before. Oh wait—we never even broke up. You just left me because you got married.”

Hunter had no chance to protest before Sophia crashed her lips onto his.