Chapter 24
HUDSON
Why her? Because after I had her in my clutches, it was the only way I could think of to make her fully mine. That bull about getting divorced in a year is just that…bull fucking shit. I have no intention of letting her go and I’m a man who gets what he wants. Always.
Although the Beauforts have a track record of escaping my clutches…not this time. I can’t exactly tell her that. I barely got her to start talking to me again. Something tells me telling her the real answer would only piss her off more.
I can’t risk the silent treatment again. It’s pure torture; similar to the pain I’m experiencing right now not being able to reach across and touch her in that dress. I knew it would look like absolute perfection on her. No amount of jewels around her neck would be enough. If I could see her in nothing else, I would be a very happy man. The thought alone is making it hard to think and hard to breathe in this suffocating vehicle.
Lucky for me, the limo slows to a stop at that moment and I glance out the window. “Looks like we’re here.”
She lets out a cute little growl as Tanner draws the door open for us. I get out first and stretch out my hand for hers. Her mouth twists at the corners as she places her hand in mine. I squeeze the small flesh in my hand and offer, “You don’t look too pleased.”
“Would you be pleased if I constantly ignored your questions?” she tosses back at me, but she smooths her expression. I lead her to our destination; she takes a deep breath as she glances up at the tall glass building.
“Moor Rooftop,” she reads the words written in bold letters at the top of the five story building. “One of yours?”
I glance at her sharply and she shrugs. “I figured you would only take me somewhere you have absolute control over.”
“Be that as it may,” I reply as I pull the glass door open for her, “the food here is unparalleled.” We walk past the turnstiles that automatically swing open as we approach them.
“Let me guess, it only does that for you?” she teases.
“Of course.” What’s the point of owning a building if I can’t come and go as I wish? I lead her to my private elevator, pressing the pad of my thumb to the panel. The doors slide open smoothly. I glance at Andrea, but she doesn’t seem to have a comment for that.
“If the restaurant is on the balcony at the rooftop, then what do the remaining floors house?” she asks as the elevator goes up to our destination. The rooftop restaurant.
“I rent them out. There’s a small shopping mall on the third floor. A corporate office on the ground floor. A movie theater on the first floor. A daycare on the second floor.”
“And the fourth floor?”
I smirk, “I had it converted into a row of studio apartments for some of my men.”
She nods as the elevator doors swing open. I place my hand on the small of her back, my gaze dropping to her pert ass. It sways deliciously as she walks.
“Mr. Moratti,” the hostess–I check her name tag–Trina greets and smiles at me warmly. “Welcome. Please follow me.”
It’s completely unnecessary, but I understand her wanting to impress me, so I follow her across the empty restaurant. Andrea whistles softly as we weave past chairs and glances up at the completely glass ceiling to take in the night sky.
Trina comes to a stop at the corner with the best view of the city and Andrea audibly gasps. “This place is spectacular.”
I pull out her chair as I survey the restaurant curtly. “That plant is drying out. Do something about it,” I tell Trina who nods frantically as she notes it down.
“Your waiter will be with you shortly,” she says and quickly shuffles away. I try not to notice when she wobbles a little on her heels.
“Where is everyone?” Andrea asks as I take the seat across from her.
“Everyone?”
“You know, the patrons. A place like this…” she trails off and glances around. “I bet it’s booked out for months.”
She’s right. “I had their reservations rescheduled because we needed privacy.”
She gapes at me. “What? That’s so so…extravagant.”
“They were well compensated.” I wave off her concern. Their reservations were shifted to a few weeks away, and they were offered complimentary champagne with their meal. No one complained.
She looks like she has words to say but our waiter has arrived. “The 1796 Lenox Madeira,” he says, turning the bottle to show me.
“1796, huh? Sounds expensive,” Andrea comments as I give the waiter a nod of approval.
“Only the best for my bride-to-be.” I wink and her cheeks turn a charming red. I smile to myself as the waiter uncorks the wine and fills my glass. When he turns to Andrea, I don’t miss the appreciative glance he gives her. My hands form a fist on the table.
“Where is the waitress?” I ask sharply and he jumps, spilling a drop of wine on the tablecloth. He glances at the mess with wide eyes like he just signed his death certificate and gulps as his terrified gaze meets mine.
“Which waitress would that be sir? We-we have several.” He takes out a napkin from his back pocket and uselessly dabs at the stain.
“The blonde one.” Anyone but him.
“Do you mean Donna?” he asks cautiously, and I wave at him.
“Yes, her. Where is she?”
He gulps again and slowly backs away. “I’ll uh–I’ll go get her.”
“What was that about?” Andrea asks, frowning at me.
“I didn’t like the way he looked at you,” I answer honestly as I pick up my wine glass. I swirl the liquid around the large glass, but I’m distracted from my drink when her lips–not unlike the deep color of my wine–part.
“You didn’t like the way he looked at me?” she asks looking dumbfounded, “He wasn’t looking at me any way, he just–” She stops talking when the waitress, Donna, steps up to us with our first course.
“Lobster tartare,” she says with a grin that shows more teeth than necessary as she drops our plates in front of us. She blinks and asks, “Was there a reason you asked for me, Mr. Moratti?” Blink blink.
“I need someone professional to serve us, and he was anything but that,” I answer coolly. That gets her to stop fluttering her eyes and she gives me a short nod.
“Understood, sir.”
As soon as she leaves, Andrea announces, “And if I want to change our waitress?” I raise a brow. “I don’t like the way she looks at you either.”
I wave a hand dismissively and say, “I don’t fuck my employees. While they may not know I own the building, they’ve been made to understand that I’m very important.” I nod at her plate as I drop my wine glass back on the table. “Try it.”
I watch her as she sinks her fork into the lobster and dips it into the buttery sauce. When she lifts it to her mouth, her eyes close and an expression of pure bliss washes over her face. Fuck, that look is just like the one that she gets when she comes. I’ve seen it countless times on security footage and now a couple times by my own doing. My cock stiffens.
“Well?” I demand more harshly than I intend to and her eyes snap open.
“It’s good. It’s really good.” She smiles and, fuck, that’s the first time she ever has. I want more of it. I want all her smiles directed my way. I stab my own lobster, nodding in approval.
“Now, back to the question you dodged earlier. Why are you marrying me?” Andrea asks as she spears more lobster with her fork. Damn, she’s a persistent one.