Chapter 24
CHAPTER 24
JULIETTE
T he night is a wonderful one. Sitting here, having dinner with Hudson, as the rest of the family left pissed off or to pacify the ones that have been pissed off. I have no idea how much time passed as we talked on and on in the open air and we wouldn’t have bothered leaving if Alejandro hadn’t come over and relayed to us that the butlers would like to retire for the night, and they couldn’t do that unless they clear off the table and clean up the dishes..
So, unfortunately, we had to finish up.
“Should we go with this?” Hudson asks, lifting one of the opened bottles of wine up.
“No,” I tell him. “No more alcohol.”
“Yeah, you’re right, no more alcohol,” he says, and we walk towards the house.
The quiet night, the gentle chill, and the beautiful stars all make for a good memory. We take our time, counting our steps and enjoying each other’s presence the whole while. Having Hudson here made me realize how much I missed him during the day. We say almost nothing to each other, but the bliss of being around each other seems to be just enough. I dare to break the silence as we get closer to the house.
“I got a call from a journalist earlier today,” I tell him as we walk on.
Hudson looks back at me. “What did they want? And did they leave a name?”
“Yes, Teddy, I think. He wanted to talk to me about our relationship. I told him I had nothing to say to him and would rather be left alone.”
“Did he pursue?”
“No,”
“Was he the only one who called?”
“I don’t know. I was worried more of them would call, so I turned off my phone. I didn’t want to repeat the same thing to more of them.”
“I understand. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it. No one will call you. I made some calls and got through to Bentley’s agency. They are pulling down the story she published. One of the chief editors owed me a favor, and I called in on it.”
“Will that help?”
“Yes, without that major source, the other news outlets that carry it will have no solid source. If the initial outlet pulls the story, it is possible for the story to die a natural death. That way, when all of this is over, and you’re back home, you won’t have to deal with more calls about a relationship you’ve moved on from. Whatever story they want to spin, I’ll control the narrative.”
“That’s ingenious, thank you!”
Hudson shrugs, telling me it’s nothing. “I did it for myself also.”
We continue to walk in silence.
“I want to ask you something,” I say as he opens the door for me, as we enter the house through a backdoor.
“What is it?” Hudson asks as he leads the way up the stairs. The house is strangely quiet. The drama must have sent everyone to bed early.
“Did you ever pursue Phillipa?”
“What? Why would you ask that? No, I never did.”
His ears are twitching, so I know he’s lying.
“Did she say something to you? Did Phillipa say something to you?”
“Yes, in fact, she did. We talked this afternoon after the whole issue with the journalist. I asked her how she knew you and she told me you sought her out.”
“You know she’s a lying bitch, right?”
And what about you? What are you?
“I believe her,” I say as we get to the door to our suite.
“What? he asks, his mouth hanging open in disbelief. “You’ll believe her over me?”
“Yes,” I say, and now I’m beginning to wonder if she told the truth about his obsession with women and how he uses and dumps them. I’m not worried about myself getting used. The brevity of our deal gives me great confidence that I will be out of Manhattan before Hudson can think up anything silly.
“You’re unbelievable,” he yells. “You know the kind of girl she is.”
Why is he lying about this? He has nothing to gain or lose if he tells me the truth. Because the truth is, I don’t matter in the grand scheme of things. Why is he so invested in keeping up this charade?
“I don’t feel like arguing about it. I just want to go to bed.”
It looks like he still wants to argue, but then he shrugs and walks away, heading towards the bedroom.
“You should have the couch tonight,” I tell him.
“What’s that about?” he complains.
“It’s the deal we made. You’ll keep the couch, and I’ll keep the bedroom. Unless, of course, you want to make an exchange, which I’ll gladly do.”
“No, don’t worry about it. I am nothing if not flexible.”
He storms into the room and returns with a pillow and a blanket.
“I thought you and I were finally getting along, then you go ahead and pull this,” he sounds angry.
I ignore him and head into the bedroom to sleep.
We had a good time, especially after the rest of the family retired after the failed attempt at dinner. Why did I bring up the conversation I had with Phillipa when everything was going well? Why didn’t I let myself be happy, at least for tonight?
I turn around on the bed, trying to get myself to sleep but failing. I can’t seem to understand why he would lie. He has no reason to. None at all.
I sit up on the bed, looking out through the open window. Last night, I shared this bed with Hudson. The memory of that night is forever ingrained in my memory. I remember every single moment of the night, the way he touched me and reached deep into the crevices of my soul and made me feel pleasure in places unknown. If he wasn’t Hudson Sinclair and we didn’t have the written deal, I’d go out there to the living room and throw myself into his arms. If he was some random man who I met at the club or at the store, I’d have easily given myself up to him totally. But this is an important man. Women like me don’t get to fall in love with such men. They remain elements of our fantasy and never grow beyond that.
All of that doesn’t matter anyway. I don’t know what the recent soft feelings I have in my heart for him really are, but whatever it is, I have to ignore it and kill it. I can’t let myself be a pawn in his game. If Phillipa is telling the truth, I can’t let myself love Hudson Sinclair any deeper than I already do.
What if all of this is part of the game? The contract, the schtick about me not being his type was just some elaborate play to get at me? What if he saw me walk into his office and decided that he must have me, and this is his way of going about that? In seven days, he’ll have a tangible reason to do away with me, never get in contact with me as his obsession and pleasure will have been satisfied. Is this all a game to him?
Why do I worry so much when the one who can answer the question is a couple of feet away from me?
I pull myself up from the bed and head to the living room, where I find Hudson lying on the couch. He’s covered by the blanket, but I can tell he isn’t asleep.
“What do you want?” he demands. “To berate me with more questions.”
I stand a couple of feet from him, watching. There’s a full moon outside, and the moonlight shines into the room, providing partial luminance.
“Do you have a tattoo on your thigh?” I ask, and he jumps up immediately.
“What did that Phillipa tell you?”
Even in the semi-darkness of the house, I can see his countenance take on a dark tone. He isn’t angry at me, but that doesn’t make him any less scary. This is a new version of Hudson I haven’t seen. It sends fear down my spine, but I stand my ground.
“Can I see your thigh?” I ask, trying to turn around to get to a position where I can get a better look at the back of his thighs. Hudson has a menacing look about him, turning around so I can’t see it.
“There’s nothing on my thighs,” he insists.
“Then show me.”
“No, I won’t be showing you anything. You’ll get back into that room and go to bed. Tomorrow, you’ll act according to the contract, and that is all I will say about it.”
“No,” I say, shocked at the sound of the sternness in my voice.
“Excuse me?” he says.
“If you have nothing to hide, you’ll show me your thighs. If there is something there, I deserve to know.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Yes, I do. Because it will determine whether or not I’m safe with you.”
“Safe with me? What the hell are you talking about? You know I won’t do anything to harm you.”
“I know that. I know I am safe from any physical harm from you. But I don’t know otherwise, and I won’t know otherwise unless I see the tattoo.”
“There is no tattoo,” he says again.
“Let me see. If there isn’t, I’ll apologize to you, return to my bed and be the obedient and perfect fiancé you want me to be. I’ll never bother you for anything else, and in four days, I’ll be gone. You’ll never hear from me again. I’ll never pick up a gig to work for you. That’ll be the end of it.”
Hudson is quiet for a while, and I wonder what is going on in his head.
“So? What if there is a tattoo there?” he asks me. “What will you do about it?”
“I want to see it.”
“Why?”
“Because I need to. Please, Hudson, just show it to me, okay?”
He glared at me, no doubt trying to understand what all of this was about. After a while, he sighs and turns around so I can see his thighs. The right thigh is clear and filled with springy hair, but looking away from that and to the left, I see a scar. It is about the size of a thumb and the size of the tattoo I saw on Phillipa.
He once had the tattoo, but he had it removed, and all that is left now is an ugly scar. A reminder of it.
She was telling the truth. That crazy bitch as he called her, was telling the truth.