Thank you everyone for your patience. It's been a long, harsh winter for me, but I'm hopeful for better days ahead. SPmess, HHHungry, , Darla Kane, theeazymark, PlayTheGame, TripSteph03, scoffie05: All of your encouraging reviews kept me going.
This one's a turning point in the story. I hope you guys enjoy!
*Thoughts and prayers for the heroes in Ukraine; Fuck Putin.
End of July 2005
"Casual Stalking"
Despite his arrogance, Hunter was aware that this sort of behavior was pathetic. And pretty creepy. But he wasn't planning on doing this forever though. And Stephanie would never know. He was just checking in. He just wanted to see how things were going for her.
Really, he was obsessed. With her, with this whole situation. It wasn't out of character for him. He couldn't have achieved his level of success without having a bit of obsessiveness within his personality. She was a mystery. First, he wanted to know if her new demeanor was real. And if it wasn't, why did she act so differently around him. Why not just continue to be her true, selfish, irresponsible self. The one he'd married.
But if it was real. If he discovered that she had in fact changed. How? How had she done it? What had made her do it? Why? And lastly, and most importantly, did that mean he too could change?
For himself. Not for her. He had no ambitions of trying to see whether or not different versions of the Helmsleys could co-exist together. Within the company, or under the same roof. Or in bed, at the movies, on vacation, while buying groceries.
He wasn't thinking about any of that.
Hunter's eyes rolled. He really was losing it. Standing on a corner, like a psycho, waiting for her to come out of her whatever appointment she had in that building, and rolling his eyes at his own thoughts. Maybe he should just let all this go.
The thought had hardly manifested when he saw her familiar shape exiting the main entrance of the building. She was with a companion now. A petite, dark brown haired woman in business attire chatted alongside her. They were friends. Which was weird. Because the building they'd just exited was definitely one of business. And Stephanie had been in there too long for her to have just picked up the other woman.
He watched them walk nearly a quarter mile down the street before he followed. The risk of Stephanie turning around was too high. He hadn't blended into a crowd since middle school, and really, the baseball cap was a stupid idea. He scratched the top of his head for the tenth time that day.
They didn't walk far. A small, open-windowed restaurant was their place of choice for lunch. They picked an outdoor table. Hunter would never be able to enter the venue, or even walk passed, without being noticed. Annoyed at himself for wasting an entire morning playing detective, he turned around.
Maybe he should hire a PI?
Or maybe you should get a fucking life?
Shaking away both thoughts, he decided he'd check out the building Stephanie had exited before heading home. It was only Tuesday. He'd promised himself seven days of 'poking around' before moving on.
Earlier that day…
"I hate him."
Stephanie rolled her eyes, "You can't say that here."
Wendy made a show of looking around her office.
"I'm your patient, aren't I?"
"You're still my friend and right now our friendship requires that I tell you that I can't stand your ex-husband."
Stephanie's responding sigh was heavy. Her therapist adjusted her posture and tone.
"Sorry," she tried again. "If you had wanted your friend you wouldn't have made an appointment."
"It's not that I don't want -"
"Oh stop it," chided Wendy with a laugh. "I have thicker skin than that. But seriously, you came here," Wendy's voice softened, "to tell me what happened. You must be upset?"
Stephanie shrugged, "Confused mostly."
"What are you confused about?"
"I'm not sure," said Stephnaie, making Wendy chuckle again. "I think I just wanted to tell somebody what happened."
"Why?"
"Cause it's all I've thought about for days."
"You've thought about what happened or you've thought about Hunter?"
"Both," answered Stephanie immediately.
She was looking out the window in her usual attempt to stall elaborating.
"Steph," called Wendy, effectively gaining her patient's attention. "Why are you here?"
The brunette waited a moment before answering. Wendy watched her piercing eyes calculate all the thoughts running through her head.
Stephanie looked out the window again when she spoke.
"Most days, my marriage feels like a lifetime ago. But every once in a while, when I see him, I get the feeling that for him it feels like just yesterday. He's still so angry."
"You've grown a lot in the past three years, Stephanie. It doesn't seem like he has. He hasn't dealt with the anger and disappointment. Every time he sees you, that wound feels fresh. It doesn't mean he loved you more than you loved him. Moving on is not something to feel guilty about. And his inability to do so is not your problem either."
Nodding, Stephanie reluctantly accepted what she already knew and suggested they get lunch.
"Oh thank God! I was so hoping you'd say that."
Chuckling, Stephanie led the way, listening to Wendy vent about her overwhelming schedule, and pushing thoughts of Hunter to the back of her mind until later that evening. In bed, she stared up at the darkened ceiling and reviewed her life.
She had built herself a small network of friends. Wendy, her assistant Andrew, whom she adored, and some women she'd met through her gym. Her and Shane were on great terms, and she spoke to Linda multiple times a day. Even her relationship with Vince had evolved to something that resembled healthy.
Her life was balanced. Or at least, more so than before. She was still a McMahon afterall. She worked tirelessly. And then trained with the majority of the time she had left in the day. But she did try to make time for recreation, date nights, and happy hours. Every Sunday morning, she took her nephew to relieve his mother for a few hours. It was the highlight of her week.
Greg flashed across her mind. He hadn't exactly been a close second. They had dated for the better part of a year. There were some breaks in between. Her cold feet and his accelerating career caused hiccups within the relationship. Stephanie enjoyed the companionship. But she didn't see the long-term communitments that Greg did. It was only the past spring when she'd finally pulled the plug for good. It wasn't right from her to keep taking his time when he ultimately wanted marriage and a family.
That wasn't for her anymore. Life had shown her that she was better off alone. She was happy now. Content with her solidarity. Her life really was peaceful. Love had never brought her peace. So she made sure to keep it locked away. Her love was scary and roaring. Whenever she allowed herself to feel it, the same old emotions came back. The passion and fury. It was in her DNA, she suspected. The lunacy that accompanied her love.
With that thought, she shuffled into a more comfortable position, and enjoyed the scent of her newly laundered sheets.
Wednesday Morning
Tracksuit or suit and tie? What would a detective wear? Definitely the tie. Tracksuit's more comfortable though. And more in line with this overall stalker vibe that you got going on.
Jeans might be better.
Ugh, what the fuck, Hunter?
He threw on the tracksuit with distaste, paying no mind to his wet hair quickly soaking through the back. He was still struggling with his decision to reschedule his training to the evening for this nonsense that he'd committed himself to for the week. Yesterday, his first official day as a stalker, he'd learned that she reported to headquarters at 7AM. Today's goal was to beat her there by 30 minutes to try and get a firmer idea of her schedule.
He knew her start time, her lunch time, and her departure time. Yesterday's lunch felt sporadic. She'd had a lunch bag with her in the morning. He wasn't quite sure where she lived, but he'd made some calls. And he had no idea what kind of appointment she had with that mystery woman. On that, he too, had made some calls.
The directory of the building had been varied and vague. Accountant offices, a law firm, some independent financial advisors, and a top tier life coaching business. The last of which had caught his eye. It seemed so unlikely, and yet. She was so very different. It was a nagging idea.
When he got to headquarters, he didn't linger in the car. He walked straight into the building and casually took a seat in the lobby. He had phoned ahead to the receptionist. He had a buddy down in the archives and it wasn't totally unlike him to visit and offer a small fortune for some memorabilia. His buddy had vouched for him, and voula, a totally reasonable reason for him to be there on a Wednesday.
Her brown curls bounced through the front doors at 6:58AM. He'd chosen a seat that kept him hidden, and kept it til his friend arrived thirty minutes later.
"Morning."
"What's up, Donnie?"
"Nothing much. Follow me downstairs and we'll talk."
"No foreplay?"
"Fuck off," laughed Donnie. "I haven't heard from you in years and now you're here asking for favors."
They stepped into the elevator with the maternal receptionist's disapproval.
"This is weird by the way," said Donnie as soon as the compartment had enclosed them.
"Not much weirder than other shit I've asked for."
"No, but still. This type of shit will get me killed," he deadpanned.
"Calm down. It's generic info."
"Yeah, about your ex-wife. Whose father owns this building."
"Exactly. The cops would know where to look. They'd probably get to you in time."
Their laughter was shared, but Hunter suspected that he'd reached his limit in asking favors. The pair small-talked the rest of the way to the archives.
The space was little more than an underground garage. It had been a mess just eight years before. Hunter had convinced Vince to hire his childhood friend to categorize the memorabilia. Now, said friend had taken on the role of investigator.
Once they were in the center of the space, Hunter started on his reason for being here.
"What did you find?"
"Again, this is some shit you've got me doing."
Hunter scoffed, "You've mentioned that, now what did you find?"
"She lives in a gated community in North Stamford. Her team adores her. She's been running that department for almost two years now, and it seems like the board is in love with her because of it. Janitors say she's in every morning at seven, leaves everyday at six."
"Long day."
"Yeah, it is," agreed Donnie. "Her mother and brother pick her up for lunch every now and then. She doesn't work Sundays. And everyone's pretty sure that she's single, but no one really knows for sure."
Hunter looked to his friend expectantly.
"What?"
"That's it," implored Hunter.
"What do you mean, that's it? I spent all day yesterday on the phone like some schoolgirl, asking everyone I know for the 411 on an heiress with enough money to have me killed. I'm behind as fuck down here."
Hunter looked around as though he couldn't find a thing to do in sight.
"Don't be a dick. You asked for a favor and I hooked you up."
"Hooked me up? I could've figured all that out myself."
"Well shit, you should have then."
Donnie crossed his arms and tapped his foot, sizing up his friend.
"You're glossing over the main point."
"And what's that," asked Hunter sarcastically.
"That this is fucking creepy. Why do you want to know all this?"
Sighing, the wrestler held up his hands in surrender. The truth was too strange to say out loud.
"We've been talking…"
He let the lie hang in the air.
Donnie's eyebrows shot to his forehead.
"Really?"
Hunter nodded, and swallowed the guilt. He trusted Donnie not to gossip, but this was still risky. He just wanted to know how she was. He wasn't trying to cause her any commotion.
"Wow," his friend continued.
"Yeah, but listen, you can't tell anyone."
"On my mother," said his friend sincerely. "But why don't you just ask her all this shit?"
Hunter rolled his eyes before looking irritated.
"Oh, yeah. That."
"Yeah, that," smirked Hunter. "I'm just trying to be careful this time."
"Hello?"
A third voice echoed from the elevators, followed by footsteps. And then a familiar figure came into view. Stephanie's assistant frowned upon seeing Hunter.
"I'm looking for Donald O'Malley. My boss needs some old tapes sent up to her. I emailed yesterday morning but never got an answer."
"That's me," exclaimed Donnie with a little too much enthusiasm. "Hunter here was just leaving."
He made a show of shaking Hunter's hand.
"Well, take care," he said with a firm look.
"Yeah. You, too."
Hunter nodded at Andrew.
The younger man hadn't taken his eyes off of Hunter. The wrestler knew at once that Stephanie would know he was in the building within the hour.
Fuuuuuck.
How the hell was he going to spin this? He treats the building, for years, like it's radioactive, and now he's here twice in one week?
Panic set in and he made his way up to her floor as quickly as possible. Ideas and lies flew through his head but none of them were plausible. It wasn't until he reached his destination that he realized approaching her would be even more suspicious than her finding out he was hanging around on her own. He'd have plausible deniability.
But it was too late.
Stepping onto the third floor, he had thought she'd be in her office. She wasn't. She was sitting with two men inside of a glass conference room in plain view of the main hallway. She saw him immediately.
Her look of confusion interrupted the meeting. And he could read her lips as she excused herself from the room. Hunter watched both men look after her.
Jesus, she's so hot.
His breath caught as she approached him.
"Hunter," she whispered.
"Hi," he said quietly. "I'm sorry, I was downstairs -"
"Please, Hunter. This meeting is so important. I can't do this right now."
"No, no. It's nothing like that. I just saw Andrew downstairs and I wanted you to know."
She looked up at him, eyes squinted so he continued.
"Remember my friend Donnie? You're dad gave him the project of -"
"I know who Donnie is."
"Right, well I was visiting him and Andrew walked in."
Are you fucking stupid?
Stephanie's face couldn't have looked more confused.
"Okay…" She added.
"I'm just letting you know."
God, this is so awkward.
"Hunter, I just work here. You're just as welcome in this building as I am."
He gulped.
"Yeah, I know that," he tried in a cockier tone.
"Okay, well," She widened her eyes in amazement. "I'm glad we cleared that up, but I really have to go."
She looked up at him a bit carefully, visibility hoping he'd wrap up this batshit conversation.
"Right, yeah, go get 'em."
WHAT?!
Her eyes practically popped out of her head.
"Thanks?"
He sucked in his lips, brows frowned in absolute embarrassment. All he could do was nod. She sent him another look of disbelief before turning towards the conference room.
"You'll probably see me around," he said in a more confident tone. "I've got business here this week."
She glanced back before grasping the conference door, "Like I said, it's not my building."
Hunter spun on his heels.
Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. What business?
He did look back, however. How couldn't he?
Once he was back in the lobby, he made a much more logical decision by picking up his cell phone.
"Hey, Ric. Yeah, it's me. Listen, I need a guy who can snoop around. Nothing sketchy, totally legit."
He listened to his childhood hero confirm what he already knew.
If you need a guy, call Ric Flair.
Almost Two Weeks Later, Saturday
She was pretty paranoid by nature. Vince McMahon's genes were inescapable that way. Working hard to stifle those proclivities the past two years hadn't been completely successful.
Which was why she wasn't too put off by the recent feelings of being watched. Being honest with herself, she knew that she wanted it to be Hunter. If for nothing else, than for safety. Besides the comfort that it wasn't a serial killer tracking her, it was also her common sense. She never detected anything off in her personal life for as long as she could remember. And now that he'd emerged from out of the blue, all of a sudden she felt eyes on her.
Mostly at work, but the few other places she frequented too.
Dipping Declan's hands into the ocean water, she made sure to splash away the sand from his pudgy digits. She was able to do this while looking around. The beach was crowded. And besides the unsteady old man who had been hobbling the shoreline and taking photos of the ocean, there didn't appear to be anyone out of place.
No crazy wrestling fans.
No Triple H.
She didn't know why it felt like a disappointment. The recent, frequent sightings of him at headquarters still felt odd. She didn't particularly like seeing him. But now, she'd grown accustomed to looking for him.
Which was unfortunate, she'd decided.
Making her way back up the beach, to deposit the baby under his umbrella, she kept her mind focused on the task of packing up their things. Marissa and Shane were enjoying themselves, sans baby, at an engagement party. She was keeping her nephew for the remainder of the day.
She sensed an ice cream in their future. What better excuse for a cheat meal than a baby date?
Saturday Evening
"I didn't ask for pictures," commented Hunter.
Huffing, the old man shifted his feet while continuing to empty his briefcase of folders and photos. There was still sand between his toes.
"You paid triple my rate to get me here at a moment's notice. I figured I'd give you your money's worth."
"Yeah, but I also said not to bother her."
"She wasn't bothered. I'm a professional," added the older man indignantly.
Hunter could do little more but nod.
"How'd you get into this line of work anyways?"
"Ex-marine. I had a brief gig with the secret service but I hated the schedule. I do this on the side as a hobby for the most part. My wife passed away a few years ago, and my kids moved up north."
"I'm sorry to hear that," said Hunter. "Where do you live?"
"Albuquerque; same house I raised my family in."
A quiet moment passed as the old man finished organizing his findings on Hunter's kitchen table. Hunter observed the private detective work and felt comfortable in the fortune he'd paid him. Everything about Mike Eisenman screamed cool, calm, and collected.
And he hadn't agreed to the job at the first mention of money. In fact, he hadn't agreed to the job at all. Hunter was forced to make a secondary call to Ric. Mike wasn't interested in spying on an heiress for her deranged ex-husband no matter the price. Whatever Ric had told the older man to convince him was a mystery to Hunter.
But he could imagine that it was somewhere along the lines of pathetic. Ric was a romantic.
Kill me, thought Hunter.
"She lives pretty routinely," started Mike, pulling out different photos as he spoke. "Up just after five in the morning. She has a yoga instructor come to her house. That's definitely costing her a pretty penny. I looked the woman up. She's one of the best private instructors around here"
Mike flashed a grainy photo of a young woman exiting her car in front of a townhouse.
"That's Steph's house," asked Hunter.
"Yes," Mike looked at him questioningly.
"It's small."
Earning himself another huff, Hunter watched Mike roll his eyes.
"It's in the most affluent gated community in Stamford. The HOA alone is more than most people's mortgages."
"I get that," added Hunter. "But she can afford a palace.
Mike shrugged, "She seems happy there."
"How do you know that?"
The PI elaborated.
"A mix of my observations and experience in watching people. She's friendly with her neighbors, uses the amenities available within the community, has friends over.. Things like that. Her assistant and his partner use the pool. I think she gave them a key because she's not always with them. She uses the gym after work most evenings."
Hunter's eyebrows raised in interest while Mike lifted another photo of the home's entrance. This time, Linda McMahon and the same woman Hunter had seen Stephanie go to lunch with were leaving his ex-wife's house.
"This is Wendy McGrath," pointed Mike. "She's the number one performance coach on the east coast. She went to Yale for undergrad and earned her medical license in psychiatry there too. One hour with her and you'll be paying her a thousand dollars of your hard earned money."
Hunter whistled.
"Your ex is a patient of hers, but also a friend. It seems an odd pairing at first but they're both young ambitious women with little personal time. I imagine they bonded over that. I found the doctor's profession with the address you gave me. Her clientele list is practically impossible to find, but I recognized two billionaires who frequented her office for help."
"Really," Hunter added while he shuffled through some of the photos.
"Yes. It's impressive," continued Mike. "Mrs. McMahon joins them for lunch or a movie sometimes. As does Dr. McGrath's sister."
"Is this woman married?"
"Yes, her husband works in finance. Mostly stocks, I believe."
"Any double dates?"
Hunter couldn't help himself.
"Not that I've observed, but like I said before, a true write up isn't complete in a week. If you actually want a full profile on your ex-wife, I need a month."
"No," answered Hunter firmly. "I didn't even want this to go past a week. We're already on day ten."
Mike nodded, but Hunter could tell it was an empty gesture.
"What about the ex-boyfriend?"
"Out of the picture," answered Mike. "She doesn't appear to be seeing anyone."
The older man handed over another photo, eyeing the wrestler. A baby boy splashing his feet in shallow ocean water smiled towards the sky.
"Her schedule is busy, but she does make time for her loved ones."
Hunter's eyes feasted upon his ex-wife in the sand. It was a tasteful photo. The older man had not snapped a shot focused on her sexuality. She sat in the sand with the baby in her lap and the soft waves crashing against them. She was beaming with happiness, a massive smile on her face. Her eyes, hidden behind sunglasses.
"She babysits for her brother and his wife some days. Today was one of those days."
A moment of silence. Hunter seemed to be in a trance, but cleared his throat when the older man did not continue.
"I didn't ask for pictures," he said again, finally tearing his eyes from the photo and looking towards the folders on the table."
"I know that," said Mike. "But this is it. I don't take unnecessary amounts and I don't keep anything for myself. This," he gestured to everything on the table, "is all I have."
He shuffled the folders together, "most of this is just trivial information about her life. When she bought the house, where her ex works, how much vacation time she's taken. Nonsense, really. Dates and addresses. But I still don't quite know what you're looking for."
Hunter looked uncertain and shrugged. The older man peered over his glasses at him.
"If I were you, son, I'd just get to know her again. Unless you want me to actually infiltrate her life -"
"No."
"Which I wouldn't agree to because she seems to be a perfectly nice woman who's done nothing wrong as of late," the PI added hastily at a flash in Hunter's eyes.
"I can only find out so much from a distance," continued Mike. "And watching someone is very different from interacting with someone. If your goal here was to see whether or not she's worthy of your time," Mike pushed the photo of Stephanie and Declan closer to Hunter, "Then I'd have to say that's a yes."
Without waiting for an acknowledgment, the older man clapped Hunter on the back and escorted himself out of the wrestler's mansion.
Monday Morning
Looking out the window of his early morning flight, Hunter turned his thoughts of Stephanie over in his mind. He'd been doing this for days.
Should he take the old man's advice? Should he seek her out?
He didn't see how it could hurt. Hurt him anyways. Maybe she'd feel differently. But he didn't know for sure. She could have taken their closure more resolutely than he had.
But he wasn't sure; wasn't sure about anything really.
Especially the hurt part.
On top of not being able to stop thinking about her, Hunter also couldn't seem to stop seeking her out either. Now that he knew just how good she was doing, he was hungry to know more. He wanted to know how she did it. She seemed happy, proactive, and at peace.
He wanted that.
Hunter felt as though he'd wasted the past few years outside of the ring. He'd been champion, multiple times over. He was feared and respected. Vince McMahon could not deny the contributions of Triple H to his wrestling empire.
He couldn't remember that last time he'd been happy. Truly happy. Not 'oh this is fun' or 'I'm enjoying this' happy, but the type of happiness that came from serenity.
The satisfaction of hard work and success could only sustain him for so long. He wanted to share his life with someone. He wanted to come home to someone. He wanted a family.
It was almost painful now to visit his parents and sister. They had spouses and children. They had a network of people, outside of their professions that cared about them.
So did Stephanie it seemed.
He would have thought that this would kill him. For years, the idea of her doing better than him was terrible. Now that it was true, he was surprised to find that he wasn't mad or upset. Just a little jealous, and very impressed.
His initial goal of snooping for one week had turned into two. And now he was contemplating just one more. But no more snooping. He was brainstorming what would happen if he just made himself available to her. Would she want to talk to him? Work with him?
Hang out with him?
He'd decided that he didn't want to be friends, but maybe they could be acquaintances.
What would that look like?
What would happen, years down the road, when he was retired and working at headquarters. Would they have to work in close quarters? Would their future spouses know each other? Would he ever have kids? Would those kids know about her? Who she could have been to them?
It seemed pointless to ponder, but he couldn't stop.
Tuesday
Stephanie wanted to ignore him. She really did. But the bastard seemed to be everywhere. For years, her routine had been a peaceful seclusion within the company. She interacted with new, young wrestlers. No superstars. No egos.
Now the champion, with the biggest ego, was around every corner.
It was no longer something she felt on edge about. It was downright annoying.
What was he playing at?
She couldn't help but want to know.
Friday
Hunter made sure she saw him at headquarters. In the parking lot, at lunch, or by the elevators. At least once a day, sometimes more. His cover was that he was helping Donnie with the archives. Unofficially, he was also scouting out talent in the area.
She was skeptical at first, he could tell. But she'd since calmed. She now offered him a head nod and a little smile whenever they passed each other. It wasn't enough. He wanted to get to know her. Again. She seemed so different. But he still recognized familiar mannerisms. She still laughed the same. Her walk was the same. And the way she flipped her hair was the same.
Eventually, he found the courage to approach her. It was juvenile and so ridiculous that he even rolled his own eyes as he approached her in the cafeteria. Andrew was missing from the day's lunch. She was sitting alone and reading through a folder while absent mindedly eating her salad. She looked up when he reached her.
"Hi."
"Hey," he said while dropping his lunch bag onto the table. "May I join you?"
"Uh, okay?"
He felt her eyes on him as he began to open and eat his lunch.
"How's it going?"
Stephanie simply blinked at him. He chewed his food with a dumb expression on his face and patiently waited for her to answer.
She blinked again and slowly shook her head.
"Good," she answered.
He nodded enthusiastically with wide eyes, "that's good."
Her brows lowered in confusion.
"Yeah."
"I wanted to talk to you about a talent I found. I think your team would like her."
"Her?"
"Yeah."
Hunter made a note of her shoulders lowering their defensive stance at the mention of work.
"Where's she from?"
Hunter smirked as she pushed the folder and her lunch to the side, giving him her full attention. He tried not to look down to her lips too often as he told her all the reasons why the women's division needed to be advanced.