SIXTY-SEVEN
Gigi
I give up trying to contact Harry after three months. It all comes down to one depressing night in Pixies, when I finally decide I have nothing left anymore.
My job is in the dumps, and it’s only a matter of time before I’m met with my own bullet. My friends hate me. My mother still tries to contact me, but that’s a path I’d most definitely rather not cross.
I have nothing left to live for anymore.
Word on the street is that Harry’s lying low, staying under the radar. I check the rota every morning and he’s never scheduled in.
I haven’t seen him since the night I held his life in the palm of my hands.
“This is the voicemail service—”
I hang up the phone, sighing as it drops to my lap.
I’m sitting on a bar-stool, leaning my elbows back on the counter as I watch Poppy take the stage. The sticky residue pools on the skin of my elbows while I wait for my next drink to be served. Morale is low and the Pixies crowd is lacking, but Poppy still struts her stuff as if she’s a stripper.
This is the third time I’ve ventured into the club this week, which really shows my desperation. When Liv, the fashion designer, tried wrangling me into some performances, I said no at first, but then I had to submit to a few so my increasing alcoholism wouldn’t look too suspicious.
Turning to grab my drink, I raise the glass to my lips and relish in the taste of vodka.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Hudson asks, coming to my side.
I frown, taking in the sight of him since it’s a rarity to ever see him out of his booth. Standing by my side, his posture seems relaxed, yet his three-piece suit always reveals he’s in business mode.
“You wouldn’t want me to bother you with those,” I confess.
“Try me.”
Fuck it. What do I even have to lose at this point? Might as well scare off the last human in my life who can cope with my existence.
“Harry hates me.”
Hudson nods slowly. His eyes drop to the free bar-stool beside me, and he asks politely, “May I?”
I hold out my hand. “By all means.”
The stool struggles to accommodate his large frame. Mirroring my posture, he leans his elbows back against the bar, and I grimace as the expensive designer fabric sticks to the surface.
“I’m assuming this is about the run-in with the Italians?”
“You’ve heard?” I sputter.
“Word gets around fast.”
I bow my head to stare at the drink in my lap. “He took a bullet …” My voice threatens to break. “It shouldn’t have happened.”
Silence fills the space between us.
“Do you love him?”
Tears well in my eyes. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Hey,” Hudson says, squeezing my knee gently. “You can tell me anything.”
I sigh, focusing on his hand. “Why did you always give me attention and not the other girls? ”
His brows rise at the sudden change of topic.
“People talk, Mr Anderson … the GQ model who doesn’t give any of the women attention. Who sits alone in the shadows seeking out his next victim.”
He chuckles, throwing his head back. “What am I – a vampire?”
“Sounds like it,” I say, concealing a smile. “But why? You gave me attention out of everyone …”
He runs his finger around the rim of his glass. “You aren’t like the others. You’re … different.”
I tilt my head. “How so?”
He turns his attention to the other guests. Pressing his elbows further back into the bar, he asks, “Do you see it?”
“See what?”
He moves closer, taking hold of my jaw gently. Hudson turns my head towards Poppy grinding onstage, drinking in the echo of cheers. Then he directs my focus towards a female recruit who puffs out her chest while passing the bill to a diner.
“They’re all trying too hard.” He releases my chin. “I regret saying that this was no place for a woman like you. If anything, it seems far too natural for you, and I deeply apologise.” Leaning closer, he whispers, “And perhaps I thought you were pretty.”
I slap his chest. “You did not!”
“I did so.”
“I need you around to boost my confidence more.”
“I’ll be wherever you want me to be.” He hums as he brings his drink to his lips.
I follow suit, forcing myself to swallow more vodka.
“What are you up to right now?”
“Right now?” I repeat, choking on my drink.
He nods, placing his beverage to the side. “Let’s go do something. It’ll be my treat.”
I stare at his awaiting palm as if it will unveil all the answers I’ve been searching for my entire life. But it doesn’t. It just encourages me to take it and allow myself a night away from my inner turmoil.
So I do.
Hudson and I spend the night traipsing through Covent Garden eating ice cream despite it being past midnight and the weather incredibly chilly. It’s a pleasant distraction from my suffering.
Like a typical gentleman, he wraps his suit jacket around my shoulders to keep me warm.
And then, when I least expect it, he kisses me.
He kisses me like any man in a business suit would kiss. I don’t doubt I’d ask him to spend the night with me if it weren’t for the vice grip on my heart making my feelings shine true.
I’m not sure when it first began, but I realised that night I was in love with Harry St. James.
From the very moment I found him in my brother’s room, I was fated to fall in love with the villain.
I’m completely, unforgivingly, in love with him.
A part of me always has been …
But it’s too late now.