Chapter Nine
Hudson
O f course, the moment I need my less than on point PA slash fake fiancée she’s not there.
No. She’s apparently making the rounds and picking up men.
And I, for one, am not fucking happy.
She leans in, touching the young guy on the arm in a familiar way that spikes a strange, harsh sensation through my blood. And she says something to him and then hurries over, almost running into me.
There are enough people at my exclusive event where I’m dabbling in some head hunting and showing off this building to an array of wanna-be buyers. I’m not selling yet. Just whetting appetites, letting them glimpse the possibilities for this place, and weeding out those I don’t want to have their fingers on it.
I want my hands on Scarlett. I know that. I shouldn’t want that, but I do.
But this isn’t about lust. This is about how things look, or will look. We’re keeping things quiet for obvious reasons, but she needs to play the game I’ve set or else she’s useless to me. Worse than useless.
Thing is, as the cold, stark anger threads through me, I’m not Mr. Nice Guy. I’ve got morals and I pay well, but cross me and I’m like my brothers, like my father. I will destroy you.
I warned her, but that bouncy, bubbly personality might not let her see me for what I am.
Fuck, I fired four people and destroyed a company today. The people weren’t up to the job and the company was small and in my way and a complete and utter waste of space.
I’m not one of those people who squash the little players for fun or because I can. Diversity is the name of the game, and I don’t play in the small real estate arenas. But start poaching on my territory and you are fucking dust.
And she’s doing that. Right now. Poaching other men. Disrupting the delicate ecosystem I’m creating.
Without another thought, I cross to her. I don’t weave through the people, they get the fuck out of my way.
“What are you doing, Scarlett?” I don’t even spare the guy a look. At all. He’s nothing to me and she’s about to join him in utter obscurity—I don’t care who or what her family is, either—if she’s not careful.
She stared up at me and something twisted deep in my guts, hard and I’ve never wanted to strangle such a pretty, slender neck before. Nor rearrange a guy’s face I don’t want to look at.
I’m not going to do it. Too many witnesses. Besides, we have a contract.
“Scarlett?”
She swallows, her eyes way too big and her mouth opening and closing.
“Five seconds, or I walk.”
“Look, you—”
“Danny,” she says, her gaze flitting to the guy, her hand going for his arm again. But she only gave it a quick squeeze before she dropped it back to her side. “Don’t.”
“Scarlett,” the guy with a death wish says, “what’s going on?” His gaze cut to Hudson and I finally look at him.
Blonde, shorter than me, but good looking enough, I suppose. Dressed up, but in a suit that came right off the rack. Not like some of those who I allow to finagle their way in that I swear shop at some bargain basement, but off the rack. I normally don’t tend to judge because talent is talent, and I’m willing to take on rough diamonds here and there. But this one?
I don’t like him.
Don’t trust him.
There’s something familiar about him I can’t put my finger on and that irks me. So do the light brown eyes I suspect usually sparkle with friendliness, but now look at me in suspicion.
He starts to reach out his hand and Scarlett jumps in front of me, tugging me away.
I’m so surprised she’s doing such a thing I let her.
We don’t get far before I sweep her up against me, fingers biting down on the soft warmth of her arm. “Who the fuck is that?”
She swallows.
“You know, Scarlett, I can be nice if I choose and I can also be a complete callous bastard. Don’t bring that out in me. You won’t enjoy it.”
I stop, struggling to get hold of the strange heavy thing that twists inside me.
“Hudson.” Her voice is soft and sweet and beguiling and I narrow my eyes.
She can’t find the words. That’s obviously because she has someone here. No…she wouldn’t dare. This guy, this Danny, has just turned up.
“We have a contract.” I want to tell her she can fuck whomever she wants behind closed doors, but I can’t seem to say those words. Hypocritical maybe, considering that’s my plan and has been since we launched into this a few days ago, but while I’m horny, it’s not for anyone else. “Your public little get-togethers with love interests are a no go, understood?”
She breathes out and her shoulders slump down a little like the tension vibrating has gone.
“I’m sorry,” she said, dipping her head down along with her gaze in a picture of demure innocence I don’t quite believe. “I didn’t know he’d be here. I’ll talk to him—”
“No.” My tone barks a little louder than I’d like and her head jerks up, spots of color lighting her cheeks. She’s enough to steal my breath.
“No,” I repeat, a little cooler and calmer. “Just get rid of him. We have to be careful, that’s all.” I flick a glance at the Rolex. “You have a minute to tell him to get lost. I’ve got people I want you to meet. And, you’re working.”
Satisfied, I pull out my phone and send a text to myself about something that’s come to me. Work soothes. And time is money.
She’s back at my side in less than a minute and that heavy twisting thing abates and I’ve a horrible feeling as I lead her away that it just might be jealousy.
Which is ridiculous.
“It’s all fine,” she says, way too cheerily in that way that almost verges on hysteria.
Someone nearly bumps into her in their haste to get to me—one reason why when I have these things I usually only send my top people. I’m here because I do need to be seen occasionally, and it’s a good opportunity to be seen with her without being seen in a splashy or overt way—and I pull her out of the way.
I leave my hand on her lower back, just to make sure she stays out of the way of others and to let her know when I need to end this conversation, and it’s the only reason.
I chat to the man, and she’s warm and her scent wafts around me. A subtle thing that makes me want to sniff it out, find the source. Maybe she applied perfume on that sweet spot right behind her earlobe. Or perhaps it’s at the base of her throat, or even in between her softly rounded breasts—
Calmly, I shift my mind to the conversation, which is so damn boring it kills any ideas my dick might have of spontaneously growing a boner.
The guy is in his sixties, portly, with a bald pate and natty gray goatee and his gaze keeps shifting to Scarlett, like she’s a party favor.
He wants to invest. I don’t need the money, but he has influence in certain arenas in real estate where he can help open doors.
I’d like the smart route to those doors, but if he keeps eyeing Scarlett’s breasts I’m going to find another way.
“Actually,” I say, cutting him off, “I need to discuss some things with my PA. If you don’t mind.”
With that, I press my hand firmly against her back and steer her away, and to the back of the room where I grab a whiskey and glance at her.
She’s frowning. “Did you just rudely cut that old bore off because he was looking at me like he wanted to lick me?”
“What gave you that idea?” I take a swallow of the peaty liquid and it heats a path through my blood. But it’s not as hot as her.
She grabs herself a drink, too. We’re at the little bar tucked way in the back that’s basically a refill station for the waitstaff. But they know who I am and wouldn’t dare say a word.
“Because you were rude.”
My mouth twitches as humor starts to bubble inside. “Maybe I’m rude to everyone.”
“I don’t think so. I mean, you probably are, but on the surface you’re a martini. It’s not until later all that smoothness moves in for the kill, and then it’s too late.”
“Is that the reason you programmed my name in like that?”
It’s a small smile. Like a cat, and my reaction is innate. I shift closer to her, an electric thrill running through me. “You should watch it.”
She’s scared of me, but not when the air is alive with heat and the crackling awareness between us. When it’s like that, she’s excited. But I don’t mind, so am I. Scarlett has a habit of sliding in when you don’t notice, even when the only thing in the room you can see and smell is her.
If I’m a martini, then she’s smoke; elusive and scented and the perfect accompaniment.
If you were so inclined.
If you were someone who believed in where this could lead.
“You like to play with fire, Scarlett,” I murmur, dipping my head close.
The only place this goes is light flirtation. For show.
Regardless of that pull on the senses she has.
She raises her head and her hazel eyes are almost dark gold the way her hair gleams in the low, buttery light in the space. And especially in the low-lit corner we occupy.
“Maybe I like fire.”
I want to taste the lips, take the invitation that’s there, just beneath the surface.
Shifting a little, our bodies brush and a small gasp escapes her as I lower my head.
“Fuck, Hudson, and they call me a player.”
Raising my gaze, I narrow my eyes at Ryder.
“There’s a thing called timing.”
“Yeah, and I have that in buckets.” He gives me an innocent look. “What? I didn’t say it was good timing for others, but…for me, it’s always fantastic. I’m Ryder, Hud’s brother.”
“Do you ever cross the streams?” Scarlett says, taking his hand.
Ryder kisses it in a practiced, smarmy way I don’t like and he laughs.
“The what?” I say.
“He’s not really one for decadence.”
“Ghostbusters is decadent?” Scarlett asks Ryder, but she gives me a curious look.
The mood is ruined and I’m not sure if I should be thanking my erstwhile brother or beating him up.
Ryder holds her hand until he catches my glare, then holds it a little longer, just to piss me off. Which is working.
“If it doesn’t make him money or build a better business,” Ryder says, “or streamline his life into even more efficiency, if possible, then it’s decadent. Actually, are you sure you’re not secretly German?”
“What are you on about?” I check my watch and it’s really time for me to get out of here.
Ryder shrugs. “They’re known for their efficiency and—”
“I’m not sure if that’s racist or just a jackass kinda generalization that comes out of your mouth,” I say. Then I turn to Scarlett, who’s watching this with way too much interest. “We should get out of here.”
Ryder’s eyebrows rise. “Well now, just wait until I tell Magnus and Kingston about this, they’ll—”
“This is Scarlett, my new PA.”
“Who is going to do the rounds once,” she says, looking a little unsure, but Ryder nods and gives her the thumbs up, “and see if there’s anyone I should contact tomorrow for you.”
And then she’s off and Ryder’s grinning at me. He crosses his arms over his chest. “Well, well, well, that’s a pretty little cat for your ugly ass pigeon to chase.”
“I…I don’t even know where to start with that.”
“Hey, there you are.” Magnus says, after striding across the room. “Who was that?”
“That was his new PA.” Ryder’s an ass.
Magnus doesn’t say much, just nods. “You’re doing it?”
“Yes.” But right then I see something that makes my blood hot like the sun.
Scarlett and that guy called Danny.
“I’ll talk to you both later.”
And then I make my way over to where Scarlett is with the guy. Too close. Too familiar. Too touchy-feely.
It hits me. What the feeling is. The realization makes my blood burn hotter.
Fuck.
I’m jealous.
And I’m going to do something about it.