Husband Hunters Read Online Free Page B

working. Instead she went home and made love to Hunter. It was the last time she slept before her meeting on Friday.
    Rustica owner Peter Lombardi had white hair and a snowy colonel’s moustache. He looked like he belonged on a pizza box under bubble-script that read Papa Giuseppe’s Pizza . But he was a shrewd business man.
    ‘The Rustica bakery chain has never had the need for a PR service,’ he told Annabel. ‘I agreed to meet with you only because of your reputation.’
    When her half-hour presentation was over, he was frowning.
    ‘It’s bold,’ she admitted, fanning out the designs for an ultra-modern packaging concept. ‘I just think the Italian farmhouse look has been overdone. And with a name like “Rustica” it’s what everyone would be expecting.’
    After a long pause, he chuckled and shook his head.
    ‘I love it,’ he said, holding out his hand. ‘I absolutely love it! I’m going to ask my son Phillip to call you on Monday. I’d like to get things moving right away.’
    ‘Of course,’ she smiled.
    ‘I’m very impressed, Ms Summers.’
    On the way back to the office, Annabel picked up a bottle of champagne.
    ‘We got it!’ she shouted as she walked through the door, holding up the bubbles in victory. Kathy and Ant cheered, while Kathy fetched coffee mugs for the champagne.
    ‘Soon we’ll be able to buy proper champagne flutes,’ she said.
    ‘Start without me, there’s just one more thing I have to do,’ Annabel told them.
    She went to her desk and quickly drafted a press release.
    ‘Stop working for five minutes and enjoy your success,’ said Kathy, handing her some champagne in a ‘World’s Best Boss’ mug.
    ‘You deserve a Nobel Prize in public relations,’ Ant declared. ‘Or a PR Emmy!’ Then he turned to Kathy. ‘Do they have PR awards?’
    ‘Awards …’ Annabel murmured. She had a feeling she had forgotten something. Then it hit her. ‘AWARDS! I have to go!’
    ‘What? Where?’ Ant’s face fell.
    ‘I promised Hunter I’d go to an awards night with him. Shit-shit-shit.’ She called a cab, while scooping up her handbag and pulling on her jacket. ‘Shit!’
    Annabel asked the cab driver to wait outside their penthouse while she bolted upstairs and changed into her black Kate Sylvester dress. She didn’t have time to freshen her makeup or do her hair. Back in the car she pulled out her bun and tried to coax her mane into sitting flat.
    ‘Please hurry,’ she told the driver. ‘Please, please hurry.’
    She saw Hunter almost as soon as she arrived at the awards ceremony. He was sitting at a table next to an empty seat. Annabel could tell he was furious. When he saw her, he shook his head. She slipped in quietly next to him. He looked her over and said through clenched teeth: ‘At the very least you could have made an effort with your appearance.’
    She smiled back tightly, so as not to cause a scene.
    ‘I’m sorry. I got held up at work,’ she leaned over and whispered.
    He grabbed her wrist. ‘Have you been drinking champagne?’
    ‘I—’ Hunter turned away from her before she could finish. He was cold to her all night. She could feel him simmering with rage. When they got home, he exploded.
    ‘I ask you to do one thing! ’ he roared, slamming the door. The metal hinges and handle thrummed from the force.
    Annabel froze. She had never seen him this angry before.
    She wanted to hold her head up and shout: ‘What? You want me to parade myself around like a testimony to your status?’ But his rage took her breath away. ‘I was — I was working’ was all she could manage.
    He slammed his keys on the bench top.
    ‘Why does it always feel like I’m the only one contributing to this relationship?’ His voice was deathly soft.
    ‘Hunter, I—’
    ‘You should have been there tonight.’
    He strode into the lounge room where she heard him slide open the liquor cabinet. She stayed by the door, too scared to move.
    ‘I’m sorry I was late.’ Annabel