Owned By The Billionaire Devil

Chapter 8

Hunter~

Even as I sat behind the wheel, my mind was entirely focused on the look of pure shock and confusion on her face.

I watched her scramble into that building like a rabbit into its warren.

I didn’t leave. I let the car idle, watching the window where a shadow moved behind the curtains. She was watching me watch her.

A dark smile touched my lip. Things were finally getting interesting, considering I didn’t think coming back home after so many years could ever be this fun.

Soon, my phone buzzed on the passenger seat and Alistair’s name flashed across the screen.

I let it ring for a while before picking up. "Brother."

"Get home," his voice was tight. “Mom and Dad are waiting for you."

He hung up before I could say a word.

I smirked and threw the phone into the passenger seat. I had intended to head to my own apartment, my own space away from their perfect world, but an invitation like that? How could I refuse?

I turned the car toward the mansion.

The drive was short. The iron gates swung open, and the house loomed ahead, all cold and intimidating. I’d barely stepped out of the car when Alistair materialized from the shadows near the door like a desperate ghost.

"I heard you volunteered to drive her home." No hello. Straight to the point. That was Alistair.

"I did." I leaned against the car door, crossing my arms.

"Why?" He took a step closer, jaw clenched. "You’re not exactly the chivalrous type. What game are you playing?"

I reached into my pocket, pulled out a cigarette, and lit it. The flame briefly illuminated his tense face. "Do I need your permission to act as I want?"

Before I could take a drag, his hand reached out and slapped the cigarette from my fingers. It hit the pavement in a shower of sparks.

"Don’t play games with me, Hunter." He gritted his teeth. "Whatever fleeting interest you have, bury it. Stay away from Maisie."

I smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile. "That really shouldn’t be your main concern right now. You should be more worried about how I'm..."

He moved fast, closing the distance and fisting his hands in the front of my shirt, shoving me back against the car. "What do you want to do?"

I didn’t fight his grip. I just looked down at his white-knuckled hands, then back up at his furious eyes. They looked like mine, but filled with unease. Calmly, I loosened his grip, easing his fingers off one by one.

"Stay away from her," he repeated sharply. “She’s not one of your games."

"I never said she was," I replied, straightening my shirt. "But if she were a game… she’d be the most interesting one in this whole damn city." I turned to walk toward the house.

"I won’t warn you again... she’s mine." The words were a snarl, breaking through his ‘perfect son’ façade.

I paused, glancing back over my shoulder. "If that makes you feels better." I said flatly, then walked inside, leaving him standing alone in the dark.

The Grimshaw mansion wasn’t a home. I’d last set foot here ten years ago. It was a museum, and I was the unstable artifact they’d locked away.

The maids lowered their head as I passed, none bold enough to look me in the face. When I turned the corner, Alistair's personal maid flinched and looked away, quickening her pace.

The message was clear: The problem is back.

In the living room, Mr. Grimshaw stood with his back to the door, staring into the fireplace, a glass of expensive wine in his hand. Mrs Grimshaw sat rigidly on the edge of a silk sofa, her hands clenched in her lap.

"You’re back." the old man said without turning.

"Observant."

"Why did you agree to drive her home?" His question was honed by years of disappointment.

I leaned against the wall, crossing my arms. "Was I supposed to say no in front of her? 'Sorry, Maisie, my family prefers I let you find your way back home, even though your perfect fiancé abandoned you.'" I let the words hang. "Wouldn’t that look a little… suspicious? About how shitty the family is?"

Mrs Grimshaw flinched, her hands twisting in her lap. Her husband finally turned, his cold, judging eyes sweeping over me.

"You know what I mean. You are a disruption. This alliance with the Whitlocks didn’t just fall from the sky. It took strategy. We do not need your… brand of chaos destroying it."

"My particular ‘brand of chaos’ secured the Miller deal," I countered. “Something perfect Alistair has been failing at for months. Maybe you need a little more chaos."

“This isn’t about business,” Mrs. Grimshaw interrupted, her voice shaking. “This is about her. Stay away from Maisie. For once, just do as you’re asked. Don’t ruin this for your brother." She looked at me, her eyes pleading. "Don’t you feel any pity for me? Your mother?"

Same script. Different day. For Alistair. Always for Alistair. They’d given him everything. And they still saw my mere existence as a threat to all of it.

I pushed off the wall, "I'll think about it, mother." I said, my voice dangerously soft. "My ‘brand of chaos’ like your husband termed it, has its own bed to sleep in. Goodnight."

I walked out, passing Alistair in the hallway. He stood stiffly, watching me go, but I didn’t acknowledge him.

Upstairs, the guest room they’d given me was tasteful and soulless. I stood in front of the mirror and pulled off my shirt. The man staring back at me felt both familiar and strange. It was Alistair’s face, but not really him. This face had lived a different life. One blue eye, one brown...a mistake. Dark tattoos and scars covered my arm, full of stories they would never know.

Her words suddenly echoed in my mind. “Have we met before?”

I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t have to be. But I did and it was for a few very good reasons.

A slow, wicked smile spread across my face as I stared at my reflection. “Let’s see how you handle this, brother,” I murmured. “Because now I want your fiancée too.”

I reached for my phone from my back pocket, only to realize I’d left it in the car. With a quiet sigh, I stepped out of the room into the now silent house.

As I passed the study, I noticed the door wasn’t fully closed and the hushed, urgent voices from within drew my attention.

I stopped.

"…my own son, I know. It’s been ten years, and I’ve missed him..." mother’s voice trembled. "But after what he did to Alistair back then… I can’t fully trust him. I don’t feel safe with him here. We need to push the wedding forward to two weeks. We have to lock this down before he… before he does something."

Mr. Grimshaw’s lower tone rumbled in response. "It’s handled. The moment he agreed to drive her home, I suspected him. I’ve already asked for a discreet investigation on him. His recent activities in Italy. Everything. If he’s been lying to me… if he’s a threat to Alistair’s future, I won’t stand for it. No son of mine disrespects me or this family."

My fist clenched, and a smirk spread across my face right where I stood.

An investigation?. On me?

Perfect.

I walked away from the door, "Alright, Mr. Grimshaw..." I muttered to the empty hall, the smirk still etched on my lips. "Two can play this game."