Chapter 13
CHAPTER 13
HUDSON
T hroughout the drive, Juliette is silent and contemplative. She looks out of the SUV window that Frank provided us. I had argued that we should come in our luxurious limousine, but Frank wouldn’t have any of that. He’s made provisions for our transportation, and we must use it. Arguing with him is a pointless endeavor. He’s in a sour mood already because the meeting didn’t go as hoped, and Juliette's introduction seems to have made everything even more complicated. This isn’t a win or loss for me.
“Are you alright?” I asked Juliette again, wondering what happened in the short time I stepped out to talk to Alison.
“Yes, yes. I’m fine,” she repeats. “Why are so many cars driving to the ranch house?” she asks.
“It’s a Frank Dubois party. It lasts all night,” I tell her. “The one at the beach house is less exclusive. This one is for the top brass.”
“I thought Frank was supposed to be someone who keeps out of the limelight.”
“Yes, he is, but once a year, he does this. A reminder of his power and affluence. Frank is nothing if not tactical.”
The drive to the house takes about half an hour. As we drive into the gate, we’re welcomed by a view that seems to transport us to the nineteenth century. A mansion is seated on an expansive piece of land that seems to stretch on unendingly. The house has a grand exterior of buttress arches, columns, and stained-glass windows. Its architecture speaks of the opulence of the Dubois. Our SUV parks behind a lot of other cars, and we’re led into the house itself, where we are met with a new wonder.
Large windows, high ceilings, velvet drapes, polished marble floors, and chandeliers that glistered like they are sprayed with stars.
“Wow,” Juliette gasps. The purpose of this party is to show off. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Phillipa heading towards us. She’s changed out of the clothes she wore at the first party and is now in a shorter dress, similar to what Juliette is wearing. Phillipa skips over to me, but before she gets to me, Juliette holds my hand.
Good call, I think. The smile on Phillipa’s face fades, but she isn’t deterred.
“Hey,” Phillipa says when close to me. “I want to show you something. You have to come with me.”
“We just arrived, Phillipa. I’d like to say hello to a couple of people first.”
Now, Phillipa is frowning, and from the corner of my eye, I see Frank watching us. Juliette must have seen it, too, because she speaks up next.
“I think you should go with her, Hudson. She looks excited to show you whatever it is.”
“But I don’t want to leave you here on your own. You’ve been on your own most of the night,” I complain. I really don’t want to go off with Phillipa because I can tell by the look in her eyes she is up to no good.
“Don’t worry about me. I’m a big girl. I’ll take care of myself.”
Before I follow Phillipa out, Juliette kisses me again. This time, it isn’t just a normal kiss. She pulls me in, her tongue seeking mine. I let the kiss linger a while, savoring the sweet taste of her lips before we pull apart; I can swear I see hunger in her eyes. I dismiss it and go with Phillipa. All the way, Frank’s eyes track me.
Phillipa leads me out of the house. We follow a cobblestone path by the side of the house, which leads us down a dirt road, and soon, I can hear the gentle neighing of horses. We are well separated from the party now, and the light from the house looks distant. Phillipa opens the stable and pulls a light switch that turns on a small bulb to light our way. The horses notice our presence and start to neigh louder. As we move in, we hear the door open, and I turn around to see a man at the door with a flashlight in hand. He must be the horse groomer I figure.
“Go back to bed, Benjamin,” Phillipa says. “It’s just me. I want to show Hudson Misk.”
“Alright, ma’am,” Benjamin says, bending an imaginary hat to me before he walks away.
“Benjamin is very protective of the horses,” she tells me as we go even further, moving past more horses, some of which have moved closer to watch us.
“Where are we going, Phillipa?” I ask.
“You’ll see,” she says and stops in front of a compartment soon enough. She hits the wooden door, and a sleeping horse stirs. It raises its head to see the cause of the noise. When it sees Phillipa, the horse pulls itself up and walks to the door, setting its nose down so Phillipa can pet it.
“This is Misk. She’s mine,” Phillipa announces.
“Oh, hello, Misk,” I say, not quite interested in her horse. Also, I get the feeling we aren’t here to see horses.
“You can pet her,” she tells me.
What I really want to do is to be out of here, out of this whole compound and this whole mess. I don’t want to play a stupid game with their father, who doesn’t know what a compromise is. I am compromising hard here, and her father acts as if he has a right to my company.
I pat the horse gently on the nose and rub her neck. The horse snorts and moves closer to me, her dark, soulful eyes looking into mine. It is a beautiful horse with luscious, brown and thick, black hair.
“She likes you,” Phillipa says. “Tomorrow, you and I will go for a ride on her.”
“I don’t think that’ll be possible, Phillipa; I have a lot of work to do.”
“Come on,” Phillipa insists, shifting closer to me. “You can have Alison do all your work for you. I want to spend time with you. Alone.”
She is insistent, almost like she’s giving me a command. That is Frank speaking through her.
“I can’t be spending time with you alone, Phillipa. That isn’t gentlemanly.”
“Why? Is it because of her?” the spite in her voice can’t be missed.
“My fiancée?” I ask. “Her name is Juliette.”
“I don’t care what her name is. She isn’t supposed to be here. This week was supposed to be about you and me—just you and me, not her.”
“I’m sorry if your plans have been disturbed, Phillipa. Neither you nor your father made me aware of such plans. I didn’t know I’d be spending the week here at the ranch.”
I’ve surmised that is how they wanted it. That she’s hurt and disappointed is no fault of mine; it’s just her and her father’s doing.
“Why do you hate me?” she asks, pulling my hand away from the horse. She touches my palm so delicately, her finger running across the lines of my palm.
“I don’t hate you, Phillipa,” I tell her.
“Then why won’t you have me? You know I want you. Why then won’t you have me?”
This is embarrassing, I think. Here is the daughter of one of the most powerful men on earth, throwing herself at me.
She places my palm on her breast, and I can tell through the clothes that she isn’t wearing her bra. Her breast feels tender and soft against my touch. I could have her here in the stable, satisfy an urge, but I have no urge. I watch her, looking at me with stark hunger in her eyes. She looks so desperate, and it irritates me.
I pull my hand away from her breast and watch as her face takes on a crestfallen look. For a while, I think she’ll break down, but then something emboldens her. Maybe it’s just desperation.
She tugs at the strings on the shoulder of her dress, pulling both together so they come free simultaneously, and her dress falls to her feet. She is fully naked before me, no bras, no panties. Her nipples are rock hard in the chilly night, and I can see she is moist.
Her nubile body stirs nothing in me.
I move closer to her, and her breath catches in her throat. Her eyes track mine with hope and hunger. I hold her by the neck, letting my hand fall from there downward to her breast, where I catch her left breast in my hand and roll the nipples in my finger. Phillipa bites her lips and moans.
I stop and move away from her.
“You should get dressed,” I tell her. “You’re making a fool of yourself.”
Suddenly, she gets upset. She screams and jumps at me, hitting me.
“Why do you hate me! You hate me! You hate me!”
She repeats, hitting my arm, my face, and just about any part of my body her arms connect to. I let her hit me until she tires out and then falls to the ground, crying. I squat before her and hand her dress to her.
“Put your dress back on. We need to get back in. You’ll catch a cold standing out here naked.”
“What do you care, you bastard,” she curses me.
I stand up and watch her. I have half a mind to leave her on her own here in the stable, but I don’t. Instead, I remain until she gathers herself and picks up her dress. She covers herself with it.
“Turn around,” she says.
I do, thinking about how foolish it is to ask me to turn around when, just moments ago, she had willingly undressed herself before me.
“Let’s go,” she says after dressing and walking past me.
I look at her. She wiped her eyes and pulled a stolid look about her. It feels almost like she didn’t break down a moment ago. Maybe there is something sinister about this girl I’ve missed all along. She is one to watch out for, I conclude and make a note to warn Juliette about her.
We walk out of the stable and back into the hall. Juliette isn’t there.