Chapter Twenty-Four
Scarlett
T wenty minutes?
This is insane. Now I’m meeting his mother?
I mean, I’ve met her, I’ve talked to her, but this is different. This is an interview for the job of daughter-in-law and I’m panicking hard like I’m actually up for it. Not that getting married is a job.
Or maybe it is. Maybe Hudson’s such a mama’s boy all the ladies have to pass the test. But the moment the thought springs to life in my head, I dismiss it. He’s definitely not that, and I highly doubt any of his brothers are.
Maybe this is how things are done in his world.
Thing is, there isn’t a handbook on it. And I could text Sarah and hope like hell she responds, but then I’d have to tell her everything and I can’t.
I wait to see if I’m going to faint, but I’m not. I’ve never fainted in my life and clearly, I’m not about to start doing so now. Worst luck.
“Are you alright?” Hudson says, all velvet voiced.
“You look pale.”
“Go away, Ryder, I’ve got this,” Hudson says to his brother.
“I’m fine.” I take a breath and try to smile. “See?”
“Well, as much as I’d love to stay and see how this all plays out, I’ve got a meeting to get to.” Ryder looks seriously disappointed.
And Hudson looks like he wants to kill him. In this, I might be on Hudson’s side. Because right now, I feel a little like an attraction at a circus sideshow.
“She’ll be calling you, but I figured I’d give you the heads up.”
“Thanks,” Hudson says, not looking anywhere near as perturbed by this as I am. “I don’t have anything else from Jenson.”
“Yeah, I know how that feels. Guess we’ll find out when this goes through.” His brother puts his phone away. “And at least we know what’s riding on it.”
That doesn’t make me feel any better.
Ryder starts to head to the door and stops. “Twenty minutes, at The Park.”
That’s an old school, famous brasserie that old moneyed New York love. It’s gorgeous, it’s art-deco because that’s the era when it was built, and it’s expensive as hell.
I’m in my work clothes.
Inside me the panic and a new round of fury whip themselves into a frenzy.
The moment his brother leaves I turn on him.
Hudson raises an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t you go get ready?”
I start ticking things off on my left hand. “One, I just found out. Two, you’re damn lucky I came back to see if you wanted me to email the Meyer group before I left since apparently, they’re important. Three, I live in Brooklyn. I can’t get home and back in twenty minutes. Four, The Park? I’m not dressed for The Park. That’s five. And it brings us back to three.” I start on the right hand. “Six, why do I have to meet your damn mother again, anyway? Seven, this isn’t in the contract. Eight—”
“Stop, I get it. This is a lot.” He says it in a way that tells me he doesn’t think so, that tells me he’s thinking I’m overreacting.
And that sets the anger boiling and spitting.
I glare at Hudson. “No. You don’t get it. That can be nine through to a million—”
“Hey.” He grabs my hands in his. They’re warm and they make me fuzzy about the edges and then I remember what we were doing and I try to pull them free but Hudson doesn’t release me. “Scarlett, stop being a baby.”
Oh. God. This man knows the exact buttons he shouldn’t push. I hate him. Violently.
“I’m not. You’re the mama’s boy.”
He laughs. “I’m a what?” His thumb moves slowly against my skin, sending shivers through that spitting, boiling, wild anger. I’m a complete firestorm and his touch is heaven.
And I’m not having it.
“You apparently can’t do anything without her. And why do I have to go alone?” I should pull free, move away. I should—
“She wants to see you, Scarlett.”
“So she asks and you jump?” I spit the words at him.
They bounce away from his sudden Teflon surface. “Technically that’s you and, come on, you know the deal.”
Those low, calming, velvety tones are not what I need, even as I want to sink down into them. And he’s cooling the anger because he won’t stop that sinuous slide of his thumb against my skin. I swallow. “It’s not to meet your mother.”
Hudson’s eyes narrow a little. “I didn’t plan this.”
His phone starts ringing at that moment and that only sparks my anger again. “You call her mother.”
“She’s not the mom type,” he says, moving a little closer to me, ignoring the ring of the phone on his desk behind him. “Only when we’re pissed off. You know the drill.”
I don’t. Our grandparents bought us up. No big deal for me and Danny, it was normal, but he’s talking opulence and moneyed lifestyles and that I am not familiar with. “Of course, but I didn’t expect—”
“Jenson put her up to this, I’ll bet anything,” he mutters. “Or it’s to do with my father’s fucking will.”
“See? Mama’s boy.”
He laughs, but his eyes are deadly serious. “Not at all, Scarlett. But there are games we need to play to do this, and you should know that.”
“Not unexpected ones,” I say.
“Why the fuck do you think I’m paying you so much?”
It hurts, those words. And I don’t know why.
“To keep quiet,” I snap.
His mouth hardens. And his thumb stops working its magic against my skin and he lets me go, stepping back a little and that hurts worst of all. It’s like I’ve slammed shut a door without knowing it. And I don’t know what to do.
“Fine, I’ll pay you a bonus.” He tilts his head a little, blue eyes glittering darkly. “Happy now?”
“Not at all, Hudson.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose with his fingers. “Just… just go and do it. Please. I’ll make sure you get the bonus. And work clothes are fine.”
“Did I cross some kind of Hudson line?” Sarcasm drips from my voice.
“No. Simply sticking to the rules of the letter. I’ll send the lawyer a note to add a bonus for you.” He moves away from me, back around his desk and he sits down, pulling his computer to him and I know I’ve been dismissed.
I don’t move.
He looks up. “That all, Scarlett?”
We stare at each other and it’s clear he’s not happy with me either and I don’t know how we spiraled to here.
Without a word, I turn and leave, and go and make myself presentable. There’s only the staff bathroom but I head down to another floor to use one of those. I might be his PA to everyone else, but the perks don’t extend to my own bathroom, and even if they did, I don’t want to swan out looking ready for the world in front of people here who know me. The other floors aren’t in the day-to-day world of Hudson, so…
I stare at my face in the mirror of the beautiful bathroom, all sleekly modern with a flower arrangement in one corner of the slate gray marble counter and practice a smile. Then I stop, because I’ve met his mother and I get the uncomfortable feeling she can spot a fake a mile away.
Instead, I tie and pin my hair back in what I hope approximates a cool and elegant low bun.
Scrounging in my fake Coach bag—rather, Amber’s fake Coach bag—I pull out eyeliner and mascara and touch up. It’s not really my thing, but a little won’t hurt. And then I dig for lipstick, but I stare at it in horror.
I wear a matte gloss mostly. That’s not in here. Siren red, which must be Amber’s, does not in any way at all say classy girl who knows the Hamptons.
With a shudder, I drop the tube in gold casing back in the bag and bite my lips like a baby vampire with no idea.
And then with a deep breath, I’m out of there. I’m running out of time. My phone buzzes and I glance at it as I head out of the bathrooms and into the hall towards the elevator. Martini, because of course Hudson can’t trust me on this. I shove the phone back in my bag and go to face the mother lion.
I’m a mess of nerves as I step into the wide, cool, and expensive place. There are floor to ceiling glass windows, tables with crisp linen, and beautiful pale green seats in a lush material. There are plants, for crying out loud. The fixtures are brass, the lighting low, the wallpaper of subtle vines in raised gold and cream and white to die for, and the gleaming red floorboards look like you could slide on happily.
It’s all meant to project calm and I feel anything but. I’m hot. I’m sweaty from my run here, and I look out of place in my not at all designer clothes and knock off bag.
I almost turn and scurry out the door when a waiter in black and an elegant black apron to finish his whole waiter goth vibe smiles and tells me politely to follow him.
Shit. She’s seen me. Sent someone to fetch me. I swallow down some cool air laden with delicious scents that make my stomach growl.
I don’t know why I’m in such a terrible panic. I’ve been on such a rollercoaster of emotions today and this shouldn’t matter beyond just speaking when spoken to and pushing through.
After all, his mother isn’t the one who’s making this whole decision on whether to believe Hudson, and how did it get to be so big and complicated with everything riding on one small little job I took for money?
I follow the waiter into a darker, quieter corner of the restaurant, and she’s there, looking at me, and it’s like someone grabs my heart and squeezes.
She looks like Hudson in that moment. Well, I know, she’s his mother, but it’s not that resemblance, it’s something in her expression.
Martini.
That’s what it is.
And everything tumbles over me. My stomach lurches and I want to go throw up. Because I think I know why I’m such a mess around Hudson recently. Why I’m so angry and yet his touch can melt everything. It’s him. I like him.
I like him a lot.
Oh. Fuck. I might be in love with him.
I’m in freefall at that, and from somewhere I hear a voice.
“Scarlett?”
I almost stumble into the seat the waiter is holding for me. It’s either that or run. I sort of fall into a heap in the chair and I can’t find my smile. “That’s me, Mrs—” I stop.
I’ve forgotten her name. Does she go by her first, which I can’t for the life of me remember, or by Sinclair or by something else?
She sits, a study in pure smooth martini with bite, and she’s probably a pink gin martini with a perfect cocktail onion.
Why the hell am I on about martinis again?
“I forgot your name.” The words blurt from me. “I was going to say Mrs. Sinclair, but then I couldn’t remember—”
She smiles, places one smooth, cool hand on mine. “Call me Faye.” Her hand lifts and returns to her lap. “So, you and Hudson?”
“Yes. It’s weird.”
Did I just say that out loud?
“Weird?”
I did. “I mean, him, me, but you know what they say!” The waiter is back and I look at him. “Martini. Up. Vodka. Six olives.”
They’re on my brain. I might as well embrace them.
A delicate eyebrow raises and Faye says, “I was concerned since you’re working for him.”
“I’m not planning to forever.”
“Once you’re married I imagine you’d like to get more involved in charity?”
“God no.” I’m horrified. I had meant to just murmur nice things and keep it all sweet and bland.
“Really? Your own business?” She pauses. “You said something about computers when we first met.”
I need to veer her into safer pastures like the weather or Fashion Week or Vogue or something. “Artificial intelligence. That’s my passion, in regards to a career.”
“And Hudson is fine with it?”
“Hudson.” My hands fist and all common sense flies out the window. “Can jump in a lake if he thinks women should stay at home or do lady jobs. I don’t even know what a lady job is. Although, even though I’m mad at him, he’s not really the type to tell a woman what to do for a living.”
“He’s rich. You don’t have to do anything for a living.”
I narrow my eyes, forgetting I’m meant to be Sarah, and I say, “I’m not out to catch a rich man. And if I was, I’m sure there must be easier ones.”
My words slap me in the face. Did I just say that to his mother?
“You, Scarlett, are a handful for him. So, tell me about this career.”
And it just goes downhill from there.
Most of the time with Faye passes in a nightmarish blur. I keep putting my foot in it. I told her I’m not into fancy restaurants or the latest fashions. I did bring up Fashion Week, but when she pressed me about my favorite runway houses, I panicked.
It was more than obvious I’m not really into all the things Sarah was brought up to be, or at least be good at.
Falling in love with Hudson, that’s easy. Way too easy.
But having to pretend that to his mother when I do? It’s too much, and I failed.
Now what am I going to do?
There’s only one week left before everything just might come crumbling down in that stupid test sprung on us and what that means to Hudson. And what failure means to me and therefore Danny if, well, I can’t pass.
What if in that test they find out I’m not some rich girl? What if that’s how Hudson finds out the truth? Even if I do love him, I may as well not because there is no future for us. There wasn’t before and there certainly won’t be if we pass this thing or fail.
No future, regardless of him knowing the truth or not.
And if I thought I could pull it off and have him get everything he wanted and the payout for Danny, I’d just do it, but after that…I’m not too sure.
I don’t want him to lose those things he wants.
So what the hell do I do?
There’s nothing to do.
Except tell him.