Chapter 34
ANDREA
I’m trying to get into a mystery book I found high on the bookshelf, but it’s near impossible. I keep thinking about the way Hudson’s face closed after our fight this morning. Did I actually hurt his feelings? No way, right? Fuck, why should I care? But I can’t deny the uneasiness that such a thought brings.
The bedroom door swings open, and there he is, standing there looking sexy as hell in dark blue slacks and an open black shirt tailored to fit his broad shoulders and lean hips impeccably. I can’t believe he had all that latent power over me–inside me–just a few short hours ago.
I snap the book shut, hating that my cheeks are heating up. I rise to my feet and notice a man hesitating at the threshold of the bedroom. The doctor from last night. Killian.
“Good morning, Miss Beaufort.” He hesitates, then walks into the room with a heavy bag. “Although I work as the Moratti family’s in-house doctor, treating all sorts of medical concerns, I’m actually a gynecologist.” He gives me a reassuring smile as he comes to a stop a couple of steps away from me.
“Oh.” I glance at Hudson, a little uncertain, but he isn’t even looking at me. Is he going to be here for this appointment? I glance at the doctor, who has moved to the nightstand, where he places his bag. He opens the thing and snaps on some gloves. I gulp and slowly make my way to the bed.
I had taken a shower and changed into a pair of leggings and a shirt. Now I hesitate, and the doctor gives Hudson a pointed glance before moving his gaze back to me. He notes my uneasy look. “We’re just going to chat; the gloves are standard practice. But if you’re not comfortable with Massimo being here let me know, and I’ll–”
“I’m staying,” Hudson growls just as I say,
“No, it’s okay.”
His green eyes fly to mine with an intensity that almost frightens me. I swallow and quickly climb into the bed. After a few brief questions about my medical history, the doctor administers a morning-after shot before instructing me to lie back on the bed.
After a brief discussion of my conception plans–of which I certainly have none–he suggests that we insert an IUD. I agree and shimmy off my tights after both men respectfully offer to step out of the room. Of course, they both come back in, I know there’s no chance Hudson would allow me to be alone, but I surprisingly appreciate it.
“Ready miss?“ the doctor asks. “This will sting a bit.”
I close my eyes and take a deep breath as he inserts the IUD to prevent fertilization. The shot is probably ninety-nine percent certain–more secure than the pill even–so the IUD is overkill…but this is Hudson we’re talking about. He does nothing in half measures.
After the doctor leaves, I blink at the ceiling wearily, then turn to Hudson. His body is still tensed up. “Are you okay?” I ask, biting my lip. Is his arm hurting him?
“I can’t say that I enjoy having another man look at you so intimately,” he grits out.
Is he…jealous? “Killian was completely professional, Hudson.”
“You think I don’t know that? I was right here! I don’t like this. You’ve crawled your way into my veins, and you make me feel…out of control. It’s–” He shakes his head and swallows the rest of his words. “Are you happy now?”
“Happy?”
“Happy that I’m now unable to knock you up.” His expression is blank, and I can’t guess what he”s thinking.
“I wouldn’t say that I’m exactly happy. Relieved is a better word. Getting knocked up right now would be one of the stupidest choices I could make.” Not only are we not in a relationship, but whatever it is between us–whether he likes it or not–has an expiration date. How could I bring an innocent child into that? This won’t end like Ezra and Charlie’s relationship. This isn’t that.
You’ve crawled your way into my veins and you make me feel.I shake my head to dislodge his words from my brain. I don’t want to analyze and pick apart each word in that sentence.
Hudson gives a short nod and announces, “I’ve decided on our wedding date. The 25th of July.”
I start, why is he suddenly bringing up the wedding? “So soon?”
“It’s still a whole month away. More than enough time for you to plan whatever’s needed.” He still wears that blank expression, and a lump forms in my throat.
“Alright. I’ll get in touch with my family today and let them know.”
Hudson nods and states, “We’ll go out tomorrow. On a date.” Right. We still have to keep up appearances that we’re a happy couple madly in love.
“Right. Okay.” I nod in return. Is it just me or are we both just nodding and nodding? He nods again and leaves the bedroom. I sigh, collapsing back on the bed. This isn’t good. This isn’t good at all. Why am I unable to go back to the way I felt about him yesterday? It’s the sex. It complicated things, and now I can’t stop thinking about him…about doing it with him again. Fuck, I’m in trouble.
* * *
I don’t knowwhere the date is exactly because Hudson refuses to breathe a word of it to me, so I’m not sure what to wear. After spending ten minutes staring blankly at my clothes, I decide to go for the ultimate no-fail outfit: a little black dress. I let my hair down, remembering how Hudson couldn’t take his hands off it last night–not that I’m dressing for him. Not at all.
When I walk out of the bedroom, he gives me an approving smile before spinning away from me, but I don’t miss the way his eyes darken slightly. I enjoy the ride to wherever we’re going, my face practically glued to the window as I admire the city’s stunning architecture. I spot picturesque bridges and cobblestone walkways that are common in most New England towns and cities.
Our destination turns out to be the marina; I hesitate as we get out of the Jeep. Hudson’s hand slips to my waist, and he gives me a reassuring smile as he leads me to a sleek chrome and black yacht with a single deck and closed roof. Beautiful as the boat is, my steps falter because a. I’m assuming this date is going to be on the water, and b. that yacht is too fucking tiny. Did I never mention my irrational fear of open water?
Hudson raises a brow and asks, “Is there a problem?”
“I didn’t realize we were going on the water.”
He turns his body to face me. “Are you scared?”
“What?! Pfft. No, of course not.” I gulp. “It’s just thatIcan’tswim’.” I quickly mumble in hopes that he’ll drop it and move on.
“What did you say? I didn’t quite catch that.” But there’s a glimmer of amusement in his eyes that makes me believe he heard me, so I glare at him.
“I said that I can’t swim. So I’m a little…skeptical of going on the water.”
“You’re going to be fine. The boat is completely safe and Tom, our captain, is a competent sailor. He’s been doing it for decades.”
I hesitate, then follow him aboard the boat while expecting it to lurch forward and send me toppling to my untimely death. I guess now we know how to plot my fake death in a year. Hudson watches me flail my arms and grip the railing like my life depends on it, but he doesn’t breathe a word.
After a couple of minutes and nothing awful happens, I relax a little and stand up straight. Hudson smiles at me. “See? You’re okay.” He turns to one of the guys loitering on deck and tells them to get me a life jacket.
“That isn’t really necessary,” I tell him, embarrassed.
“Your reservation isn”t about getting on the boat, but that you can’t swim. I don’t expect anything to happen, but I know the jacket will reassure you that even if we do capsize, you’ll at least be able to float. Trust me when I say that the jacket will relax you.”
I can’t argue with that logic. A tall, slightly chubby man comes on the deck to meet us. He introduces himself as Tom, our captain. Behind him is his wife, Mary, our hostess. They’ve been working on Hudson’s boat for years. Meeting the older couple actually does wonders for my worry, and I’m already smiling before the guy comes with the life jacket.
Hudson tucks me into the jacket quickly and efficiently, but by the time the last belt is secure, my heart is working overtime and a swarm of bees is attacking my belly. Not because of my fear of the water, no. He”s so near that his warmth and scent are overwhelming my senses. When he finally takes a step back, I let out a breath of relief.
“Better?” he asks, and I nod “yes”. Between meeting Tom and Mary, and putting on the jacket, I feel ready to conquer the world. Dare I say, I’m even excited for the voyage.
“Have you never been on a boat then?” Hudson asks, leading me to a table set for two. He pulls out my chair.
“No, whenever the occasion called for it, I always had a convenient excuse not to go.” A cool breeze pushes the hair out of my face and I sigh, enjoying the fresh water smell and its light spray. The sun is starting to set, lending a magical quality to the evening.
“Why? I would think a woman like you would hate knowing there’s something you can’t do and actually learn how to overcome it.”
He’s not wrong. Alexander has a pool at his house, so I had several occasions to learn to swim. “I just give it much importance, I guess.” As a child, my fear of water was debilitating; I could barely take a bath in an inch of water without a meltdown, so swimming lessons were out of the question. Then as an adult, first I was so busy trying to break free of my family’s hold. Nothing was more important than being independent. Then I was busy with the Liquid Elixir.
I shrug. “For years, all that has mattered to me is independence. It may sound silly, but I just needed to prove that I could make it on my own without my family’s help.”
“And you did. That’s truly impressive. Did you always want to own a bar?”
“I wanted to be a fashion designer.” I chuckle and add, “Then I wanted to be a painter like the man I was named after. There was something almost romantic about being a starving creative, and I hungered for it.”
“I can certainly see why that would appeal to you.” Hudson smiles and tries to say more, but the boat jumps, and my eyes grow wide. My hands grab the dining table with a tight grip.
“You’re fine,” he assures me. He leans forward and places his large hands over mine. “What made you decide to get into bartending? It’s a far cry from a fashion designer or painter.”
I glam onto the topic, even though he might be asking this just to distract me. Nonetheless, I welcome the opportunity. “I don’t know. I’m a night owl.” I always have been, despite my mother’s dearest wish for me to go to bed and start the day bright and early like a civilized human, so a nocturnal job certainly had its appeal.
“The fact that I’d be able to interact with people every night matters. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m nosy and like to think I’m a good listener. That’s all a lot of people need to sort out their problems, you know–an unbiased ear to vent to. Being my own boss was always appealing to me. It was hard, and I made some serious mistakes in the beginning, but I love it now.”
By the time I’m done talking, I’ve released my grip on the table and am relaxed again. Huh. Hudson glances down at our joined hands and rubs his thumb over my ring.
“Your meal, sir,” our server says, placing a large seafood platter between Hudson and me. He glances between us and down at our hands, then scurries off. Hudson shifts his attention, taking his hands off mine. A pang of loss courses through me, and I shake it off. Stop getting attached, Andrea.
“Speaking of my bar, what do you expect to happen to it the year we’re married?” I ask forking a piece of shrimp. I dip it into cocktail sauce before popping it into my mouth.
Hudson shrugs and states, “If you don’t want it to remain closed, you could hire a manager and check in on them occasionally to see how things are going.”
“You mean I can visit Brattleboro?”
He shrugs again. “After we’re married, I don”t see why not. I’ll go with you, of course.” Of course.
“What do you expect me to do the rest of the time, when I’m stuck at home? I hope you’re not expecting me to be a housewife?” He pauses, his fork halfway to his mouth. “Hudson!” I whisper. Did he really expect me to just sit on my laurels and play the little wifey for a whole year?
“I guess pursuing your past painting dreams isn’t enough?” he asks.
“You guess right.”
“What do you propose then?”
“I want to open a branch of my bar here.” The idea came to me a few days ago, and I’ve been ruminating over it. It’s the perfect solution to distract me from my circumstances.
“You mean to run it yourself?” His lips grow thin in disapproval.
I narrow my eyes. “Listen, I”ve thought about it for a while before bringing it up. I know it’s unconventional for the wife of a mafia don to not only work but also run a business, but I don’t see any harm in it as long as it’s in your territory. You can station your men as bodyguards there, of course,” I add to which he nods and gestures for me to continue.
I drop my fork and lean forward, moving my hands as I explain what I envision for my bar in the city.