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  Yours To Take

  A Billionaire Alpha Instalove Romance

  Hunter’s Prey: Book 1

  By Grace Cooper

  Copyright © 2019 Grace Cooper

  All rights are reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 1

  I burst through the doors nearly kicking some papers from the hands of a woman passing by, raced toward the elevator, one arm high above my head, waving.

  “Wait for me,” I shouted as the doors slid closed.

  I got there just as the doors touched the shaft and moaned like I was the only person in the whole lobby. It was just my luck that I overslept on the most important day of my career. But that was nothing new. People often said I would be late for my own funeral. Even my mom joked about me being late on the day I was supposed to be born. She had me a day later, and lucky day it was, February 29th. My witty parents decided to choose my sixteenth birthday to get me two cakes, one with sixteen candles and the other with four. If that was not the day I died of embarrassment, I never would. Seven years later and I still blush remembering Josh snickering in the background.

  “It won’t come if you don’t press the button,” said a deep voice from behind. A slender finger called for the elevator. I could have bitten that finger off in anger, but when I turned to face the figure, I felt exactly the same why I had when I saw that second cake.

  I wanted the ground to open up beneath my feet and swallow me whole.

  Hunter Green was standing by my side, wearing his navy-blue suit and a wicked half-smile. His icy blue eyes pierced through me as I felt the heat rush into my cheeks. A fine layer of sweat had covered my brow from running and a lock of hazelnut hair was covering my left eye. I pushed it away with a swing of hand that was all but gracious.

  “Thanks,” I murmured, looking away.

  I could never stand the way he looked at me, or anyone else for that matter. He had this way of looking at people like he knew all their secrets, all their little sins and kinks and mistakes. He also looked at people as though he had none of those.

  A lock of hair fell over my face again and I went to fix it, tilting my file over the edge and letting a flood of papers surge onto the floor.

  A low chortle came from Hunter as he bent over the help me with them.

  It’s fine! I can do it! I wanted to shout, but I did not dare. We gathered the papers in a heap and I shoved them back into the file just as the elevator door slid open with a loud ding. Then it struck me: I had to share the elevator with him.

  His company was a long-term client of ours and every six or so weeks he would come in for hours on end to discuss future projects with my boss and see our presentations and pitches. The very papers he had helped me gather were for his own company.

  “You are having one rough morning, huh?” His voice was deep even when he spoke quietly. His black eyebrows sharp, curving as he spoke, towering above those cool eyes. A lock of sandy blond hair was messy on his brow, but he did not care. It struck me as odd, since he took such great care to appear near perfect. It had to be intentional, to make him look even more charming - a charm that was effectively killed off by the grey circle around the pale blue irises.

  The last time he paid us a visit we were coordinating the digging of wells throughout sub-Saharan Africa. This time, it was the child labor in Vietnam. Shadowed by the scale of the same issue in India and throughout the islands, Vietnam received little to none help from the global organizations battling the grave problem. We had the honor to participate in the project and I was to be the key speaker on the meeting. Yet just as he said, I was having one rough morning.

  The dinging of the elevator brought me to the present. The door slid open and Hunter Green waited for me to go first. I murmured another thanks and bent my head over. He was one of the rare samples of his kind who could do this to me with a single look. I felt like a child near him.

  His reputations was the most likely cause for it, though. The New York Times dubbed him a saint when they featured him as the man of the year. And the truth was, if he were not so outspoken against the organized religion, a sainthood would be set in stone for him. He was among the first entrepreneurs to successfully complete ten consecutive projects for the betterment of human life on the planet. His resume was as long as my arm, and then some, and his profiles only ever speaking praises. Not that they were far-fetched: he was a proud member of the elites with a single dollar annual salary, preferring to life off of his inheritance. And boy, was he public about that.

  I reached my desk, avoiding eye-contact with Hunter Green, then settling in my chair to go through my notes for the presentation. He walked off to the conference room where my boss would be unavoidably waiting for him. His navy-blue trousers were well ironed and made to measure. I caught myself watching him from behind as his hips swung a little, his bottom firm.

  A voice inside my head screamed at me to look away, but eyes felt glued there. I felt an urge to just touch him. But then I remembered his knowing look and felt as ashamed as ever. If he had looked into my eyes at that moment, he would know exactly what I was thinking.

  Instead, he walked into the conference room and closed the doors behind him, never giving me another look. It left me feel relieved, yet somehow sad.

  CHAPTER 2

  For the better part of the next hour the conference room doors were closed and I did all I could to focus on the presentation and keep my mind as far away from Hunter as I could. Other people were slowly coming into our offices, most proceeding to the conference room, some lingering around and socializing with my co-workers.

  The project we were developing for him had been given to us a year earlier and everyone around me excited about the meeting. We had conducted multiple extensive researches and identified the main issues, then proceeded to structure a plan that was both actionable and feasible.

  I ran through my notes one last time a moment before the doors opened and my boss waved at me. He was an elderly man but still looking good. A few years away from his retirement, Mr. Finnes had grey hair with streaks of white, firm and determined face and deep green eyes. Most of his life was spent in this very company and his work and his legacy were as certain as the fact the sun would rise in the morning.

  His eyebrows were a thick behemoth making him look far scarier than he really was, and he raised them as he called for me. A smile showed on his face, adding that one spark of encouragement I so desperately needed.

  I closed and opened my fists, took the file I had sorted and stood. Cold sweat was covering the palms of my hands as I knew it would be my words that decided whether we continued with the project or not. Red alerts were popping inside my head as I made the short walk from my desk to the conference room. What if we had made a huge mistake somewhere? What if I mess up? What if, what it, what if…

  The doors closed behind me and silence fell in the room. I stood for half a heartbeat scanning the room and recognizing a few faces. Some were the investors, others were Hunter Green’s own employees and advisers, while a handful were my co-workers, there to provide me with any and all help I might need.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, good morning,” I said in a voice so unlike my own. It was c
onfident and strong. I liked it. I liked the person saying those words. I proceeded to take place at the long ellipsoid table and handed the file to Mr. Finnes’ PA to hand them out. On the far end of the table Hunter Green was fixing his tie. His eyes met mine and I closed my fists again. After I thanked them for their time and trust, I cut to the business. “This project will likely prove the toughest one yet, but I like to think we have come up with a series of steps that will in the end make a difference.

  “As you all may know, child labor is often the sole way for numerous families to survive. The highest instances of such examples can be found along the northern coast, where children are employed on fishing boats, illegal trade of goods and similar physical labors, not to mention the prostitution which can be found not only in the rural and coastal areas, but in certain neighborhoods of larger cities.

  “It grieves me to say, ladies and gentlemen, we cannot stop this from happening. Not even if all our projects were directly supported by their government - which they are not.”

  A man in his late forties with pitch black hair and a two-day beard frowned as he leaned forward. “Why not? If we should involve the government and educate the police, the world could put a stop to this sort of thing.” He was one of Hunter’s own employees. As I listened to him it was clear at once why Hunter Green had decided to leave the project planning to us.

  I smiled. “Why, the children are not slaves, except in the most extreme of examples of human trafficking. These children have an incentive to work and even more so a desperate need. The government could not sustain the potential poverty of all the households where both parents and all the children are currently working to barely scrape enough for food each month.” I paused and looked around. Hunter’s eyes never left my face, but he did not speak. His employee, the black-haired man, was not happy with my answer though. I leaned forward. “However, you did mention education and I thank you.

  “Even though outright ban on child labor is not possible, our research team has identified the next best thing. We should take it upon ourselves to improve the conditions in all aspects of life for the children currently stuck in this system.

  “At present, the main issue is that children employed in this grey-at-best sector do not get a chance to leave the cycle. They miss out on education, their working hours clash with all the school schedules and their families cannot afford to buy all things necessary: books, notebooks, and even pencils are a luxary in most of these homes.

  “This is what we can change. We can advocate for the betterment of the working conditions, restrictions on working hours, and finally promote and incentivize the attendance in schools which would cater to this specific population.”

  A moment of silence settled in the room.

  “For details on costs, risks and timeframe we have provided you with the detailed plan,” I said, gesturing toward the heaps of papers around the table. “I am happy to answer any questions you might have.”

  No one said anything. Scuffing from the black-haired man continued for a few seconds, but then he stopped, sensing the silence in the room.

  “Thank you, Rachel,” said Mr. Finnes after a moment. He looked around.

  Hunter Green was skimming over the papers in front of him, then he raised his eyes to look at me. He smiled that half-smile of his, most likely thinking about those very papers all over the lobby. “Who came up with this?”

  I shifted in my seat. I could not tell whether he loved it or hated it. What do I say? I was about to either doom my whole team or take all the credit - or, you know, the other way around. “It was a team effort. Our researches worked tirelessly and delivered all the results as we asked. Tanya here did the risk assessments.” I nodded at her, she smiled. “And I had Dave Jefferson do all the calculations of costs.”

  Hunter Green leaned in. “But you are the project manager?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  He exhaled through his nose and nodded. His eyes were on the papers again and he said nothing else for a good long minute. “Well, we are done here.”

  My heart sank. I looked at him for another moment - not a word, not a smile, not even a wince. I looked at Mr. Finnes, who nodded at me and I understood it for an invitation to leave. The meeting was over. I did my part and apparently, I failed.

  I picked up my things, struggling not to show the fear on my face. No matter how many times one succeeds in this business, a failure of this proportion was fatal. One good chance and a one good miss.

  I left the conference room, left the things on my desk and headed for the restroom. All I needed was five minutes alone, to gather my thoughts. And just possibly, look for job openings.

  CHAPTER 3

  Saturday would usually be when I sleep in.

  That was not the case this Saturday morning. I had barely slept at all, shifting in bed for the best part of the night. Those few hours when I managed to keep my eyes shut, I kept dreaming Hunter Green’s eyes were on me, freezing me, making me unable to move. All my limbs felt stuck. I could not even call for help because everyone around was angry at me.

  At the crack of dawn, I slithered out of my bed and headed for the shower, where I overstayed my welcome. The hot water ran out as I stood under the downpour and I had no choice but to step out.

  My breakfast seemed to enjoy sitting on the plate and cooling down and I had no appetite for it. I only had my coffee, staring at the screen and restlessly revising the project I so successfully killed. The worst part was that I could not even identify my mistakes. Yet Hunter Green knew - that much was obvious. He knew where I had messed up. We must have overlooked something in our planning and I let it slip.

  Sunday went by much like Saturday. When my mom called in the evening I almost did not answer. I’m fine, the work is fine, everything is fine, that was all I told her. Whether she believed me or not I did not know, but she wanted to believe it. What parent would not want to hear how everything went well in their child’s life?

  A part of me was just waiting for Monday in hope to hear some feedback, or at best a new project where I would fill in some minor roll, push papers and get on with my life. Another part… Well, it was the opposite. It wanted the Sunday evening never to end, so I could ravish in the bliss of ignorance.

  Whether I wanted it or not, time was moving and Monday morning found me in a strange mood. I went to work surprisingly calm about whatever it may be that was coming.

  Unlucky as I was, that mood did not linger for too long. Just as I sat down and my computer screen lit up, Tanya came from across the office. “Hey, is everything alright?”

  “Yeah,” I said. I was dead set on playing ignorant until the last. “Why?”

  “I don’t know,” she said, her voice a deep purr. “Finnes was looking for you half an hour ago.”

  Half an hour ago? Words rang strange in my head. Had I messed up my schedule? Was it even Monday? On Mondays I always started at ten, instead of nine, and that was Finnes’ idea because he ‘needed me longer on Wednesdays’. I looked at the screen, just to be sure, and yeah, it was Monday, ten o’clock sharp.

  I shrugged and stood. “I better go check, then.”

  Tanya moved back to let me pass and I went down the office, then left where Mr. Finnes had his own. I knocked twice and opened the door.

  Mr. Finnes was looking at the screen of his laptop, clicking, squinting as he read. He refused to wear the glasses the last time he visited his doctor, or so everyone in the office said.

  “You were looking for me, sir,” I said as I closed the doors behind me. The last thing I wanted was for everyone to listen as he scolded me.

  “Sit,” he said, gesturing to a chair across his desk. A half-smile decorated his face.

  I did as he asked. My arms folded in my lap, knees pressed hard together. I had no idea what to expect.

  “Rachel…” He immediately trailed off. That was not good. Give me anything but a trailing voice, any day, and I could handle it. This stank of bad news.

&nb
sp; “If it is about the project, sir,” I interrupted him against all my experience. “I take full responsibility for it. Whatever mistake we made, and all I can think of was the approach we had chosen, was my fault. I checked and double-checked every idea at every step along the process. Had they had a better leader, we could have persuaded Mr. Green that this was the way to go.”

  I fell silent as Mr. Finnes’ eyes met mine. Deep green was a surprisingly warm color.

  “Fault?” Mr. Finnes chuckled.

  It felt as though the world shifted beneath my feet. I looked at him, not sure what was exactly going on. I waited for him to finish his notoriously long pause in speech. It went on for quite a while.

  “There was no fault, Rachel,” he said. “Hunter was overjoyed by the project. So much so that he wants you to join him overseeing it.”

  I said nothing again. I could not find the words, if there were any, to express how I felt. It was relief mixed with shock that came first. After that dread was creeping up my spine. “Me?” My voice was meek, cracking its highest pitch. “With Mr. Green?”

  “You know,” Mr. Finnes said, ignoring the state of surprise on my face. “It says a lot about you if you could not tell how you had performed.” He leaned back in his big chair, hands clasped together, then smiled. “You keep underestimating yourself, Rachel.”

  I laughed at that. Perhaps he was right, but I could not see it. All I could do was laugh. I must have seemed completely mad, but Mr. Finnes pretended not to see it. He went on about the logistics of my new mission, but all I could hear were those five words. They rang inside my head. Being sure in myself had never gotten me anywhere. All I had from it was disappointment, always. Perhaps a part of me was too scared to hope for something better, in fear that I was not worth any better.

  I left his office with my ears still buzzing and my hands trembling just enough so Tanya would notice. She moved her curly black hair back and took my hand. “Are you alright, Rachel?”