Chapter Seven
Hudson
I ’m more pissed off than I’d like to admit.
Normally it wouldn’t bother me, but after the kiss the other day, the kiss that still comes to me like the scent of skin at different times, it’s something that bites deep.
I don’t know what the fuck this fundraiser was, and I’ve no desire to find out. Those kinds of things bore the crap out of me. But for some reason, since I’ve gotten to know her, at least as much as I can in a few days, I would have thought she’d hate that kind of event.
My home is blessedly quiet, and nowhere near where most people think I’d live. It’s in the quiet mid upper east side of Manhattan, the street is tree lined and the houses worth a fortune. And mine, well, it’s a lovely brownstone with five floors, but I’ve got the top two as my private domain.
The rest is for guests and entertaining if I choose to do so, which is only usually for business purposes, but I’m here to sleep and eat and fuck in the master bedroom that’s not my room. That’s when I bring them here.
The event tonight would have been made more interesting with Scarlett, which surprises me. I was only planning to take her for the purposes of our contract, but she’s a bright light, full of life I didn’t know I liked having around. The stuffy suits of the company I just bought bored the pants off me and I stayed as long as was polite.
Now I’m home, some old school blues on because that’s my mood, and Scotch.
All I want is to relax and think about my plans.
So that’s when my phone rings. I pick it up from the arm of the chair in the living room in my private quarters and sigh, hitting answer and speaker at the same time.
“Hello, Mother.”
“Hudson. I’ve been speaking with Jenson. And I think I should bring up a few things if this girl turns into something more than just your employee…”
The next morning, everything at the office is running smoothly, the way I expect it to. Even my faux fiancée is hard at work. Of course, her idea of work and mine seem to differ. It’s not wrong, per se, but it’s not good.
I sit behind my desk and place the new contract on my desk, staring at it. The reason I’m late.
If things were perfect, then I’d be talking to her right now instead of sitting in here.
I want excellence.
I demand it.
No one’s going to believe I’d hire her if she didn’t give me that. She’s not the package I go for, so she needs to be on her game to make it all work.
Yes, I’m being hard, and perhaps I’m incorrect with not good.
Scarlett’s green.
She’s probably done a version of this job, but I have to face facts—even a struggling woman from old money is still a socialite, and that goes for struggling women from old money who don’t seem to fit the mold.
Still.
Green.
I’m going to have to spend some time going over this in every tiny detail so she can do the job I want. I might as well do that if I’m going to stick with this thing. We’re not even done with week one and I have a new contract already.
My mother last night…
I’m not sure if she’s playing me for her own reasons or if she’s trying to make sure I protect myself. Along with the family name.
She might not have been born a Sinclair, but she is one, through and through. And she has a point about making sure if I choose a bride to be sure. Some might see that as a be sure that you love them, but I see it as taking care that everything is covered.
I don’t want to pass that goal post and have it fall apart because of Scarlett. And if Scarlett balks at the new NDA and contract, then I have time to find someone else.
Actually, if she does, I can use her unusual PA skills as a reason why things end.
It’s a win-win for me.
My mind at ease, I call her into my office.
She’s a pretty deer in headlights.
I’m not really sure why I think that since there’s nothing deer-like about her. But that’s what she is right now. She knows something is up.
“Sit.” I wave at the sofa and she perches on it like she did only a few days ago.
I take the seat next to her and place the folder between us.
“My mother called when I got home last night.”
“You’re close then?” She blinks. “Not implying anything…Oedipal.”
That startles a laugh at me. “Not my type.”
“My mouth sometimes does what it wants, I’m sorry.”
Nerves are surging into life inside me, which is weird. I don’t ever get nervous. Then again, I don’t ever have my desires riding on a woman I don’t know who tastes like heaven laced with promises of all kinds of deliciously dark and carnal acts I shouldn’t be thinking about.
“Scarlett.” I’m trying to get the words that ran so smoothly before her lithe self walked in. “We need to talk.”
Her cheeks turn a dusty rose and she looks at me. “It was one mistake yesterday—”
“Not that, but since you bring it up, I get it. You probably cruised by before on your family name. And XO provides stellar temps, but the office work there isn’t at the level I demand. We’ll spend time on how to handle certain aspects of my business life later today.” If there’s a later, but I keep that to myself. “No. I want to talk about this.”
I hand her the folder and she opens it, our fingers brushing and a cascade of awareness bursts inside me from that touch, sending fantasies of fucking her on the sofa racing through my brain.
She’s frowning as she’s flipping through the pages and I’m positive her mind hasn’t gone where mine has. Thank goodness. Because I don’t need the added complications of that.
“I signed this stuff—” She stops, bites her lip as she clearly catches on. “A year?”
“As I said, there was something my mother said about it. Not that she knows about this.” I point to her and me and the contract. “But if I were to fall in love and find a bride in four weeks, then I can bet there’s a forfeit if it ends right after. So, I figured we stay engaged on paper for a year and then it can go south.”
“That’s a lot more than four weeks.”
“You don’t have to sign. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want, Scarlett. But it is a lot of money, and I’ll pay more. I just need to protect my own interests here.”
“Oh, God…”
She says this so quietly I almost don’t catch it and I’m not sure what the problem is. Unless there’s a man somewhere on her horizon.
I tap my foot on the floor. “If this doesn’t fit in with your plans, then I’ll find someone else. We’ll work out a percentage for the last few days and call it a day.”
She doesn’t say a word and I push to my feet. I’m not playing. I’m not bluffing. She needs the money, but so do others out there.
“Wait.”
I look at her and do just that.
She’s biting her lip, her brow is creased into a frown, and she looks like there’s a world speeding in circles in her head.
“If there’s a guy you’re seeing, or after, then that’s your business, but anything needs to be kept very quiet outside this four-week period. If you’re going to sign.”
“What if you meet someone?”
“I’m able to keep it in my pants and I’m not looking for a relationship. I don’t believe in them, and I certainly don’t believe in the fairy tale called love.”
“That’s sad.”
“If you do, then you’re deluded. Relationships that claim love end in divorce and then the next one and the next one, and I’d rather not mess with that shit. And this thing with you and me, fake as it is, is already one hell of a headache. I can only imagine the real deal. No thanks.”
She shrugs and takes a step back. “A year. It’s…that’s a long time. If we can’t talk about it, then…what about family? Friends?”
“They can’t know the truth. Let’s get through the four weeks.”
“That doesn’t work.” Scarlett looks like the floor is going to open up and eat her because she spoke to me like that. “It works, I just…there are people.”
“What people?”
Panic crosses her face, and she grips the contract tight. “Just. People. Don’t you have friends?”
“I have colleagues. Old friends. Brothers.” I don’t keep up with anyone except family and those who can make my business tick and earn money, but that’s not her business.
“I have friends. And people ask things. I…I do things. You know, like the matron’s charity. And if—”
“This pans out after four weeks, I’ll get you a fucking ring you can sell after twelve months.”
“I don’t want that.”
Her voice is a little thready, and she’s breathing in short, sharp inhalations.
I don’t know what the problem here is, and for some reason this is more complicated in her head, which makes me want to take a closer look at her and all she is.
“I just mean, if I have an NDA and we can’t tell anyone, then it’s also going to look suspicious.”
“You have a point. We’ll discuss it in a week or two. If you still want to do it.”
She stalks up to me and I’m immediately surrounded by hints of flowers. “Why not now?”
“Because I’m private.”
But she has a point. If we run into people, we can’t just say nothing. There are events and places to go, and while the contract says no media and the NDA says not to tell anyone the truth, there’s nothing about close friends and family and where appropriate.
“I’m not planning on getting a billboard,” she says.
“Okay. Need to know on a new relationship. When it gets quote unquote serious, we can then look at the perimeters. There’s room for that in the contract.”
“Oh.”
“Oh,” I mimic. Then, when she snatches the contracts back to her, I hold out a pen and she signs, muttering things to herself. Then she shoves it all at me. “Is that all?”
I slide my gaze over her. “No. Dress up tonight. We’re going out.”