: Chapter 29

“Morning, ma’am,” the doorman says as he opens the door for me.

“Good morning,” I say in a cheerful voice, despite feeling anything but cheerful.

The only good thing I have going for me at this moment is the smoothie in my hand and the croissant in my bag. After a long walk in Hyde Park, where I laid under a tree, staring up at the leaves for far too long, I stopped at Joe and the Juice for a smoothie, which, not to knock England, but they are pretty liquidy. I’m used to a more frozen smoothie from America. But, dare I say, they’re maybe more delicious over here.

Either way, this drink is the only good thing I have going for me at the moment.

Jude won’t answer my texts or calls.

Stacey can’t stop crying and apologizing.

I’m stuck in a freaking foreign country, pretending to be a bridesmaid for someone I barely know.

And my husband refuses to text me back.

So this pink drink that is dangerously sloshing around as I enter the elevator is the best thing in my life.

The only thing in my life.

My true love.

The elevator doors part, and I head to my room, pulling out my key card and unlocking the door. I push it open, walk in, take my shoes off, and head toward the couch, where I look up and find a man sitting on it.

“Mother of God!” I yell, tossing my smoothie and croissant in the air, only for it to splash on the ground and cover the entire living room in pink liquid. Hand clutched to my heart, I mutter, “You motherfucker.”

Ignoring me, Hudson casually lifts the room phone up and calls for the front desk, where he asks for someone to help clean up in our room.

I’m leaning against the wall of our room, breathing heavily and staring down at the one good thing that was going on in my life. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I told you I’d be back.”

I stand taller and look him in the eyes. “Oh, right, how many days ago was that? Sorry, I assumed you were dead since I haven’t heard from you.”

I move into the bathroom, where I grab some towels and then carry them to the living room to start cleaning up.

“I have someone coming to do that.”

“Yeah, me spilling my smoothie because my husband, who hasn’t made contact with me in days, just decides to randomly show up and scare the living shit out of me does not constitute a them problem. I can clean up.”

“Sloane, can we talk?”

“No,” I say and continue to clean.

“Please, Sloane.”

I look up at him and sit back on my feet, so I’m kneeling on the floor. “Do you think the use of the word please is going to change my mind? You have absolutely lost it, Hudson.”

I continue to wipe the floor, so he reaches for one of my towels. I gather it to my chest, nearly snarling at the man. “Get your own towels.”

“Sloane, can we please just stop for a second and talk?”

“No. You have two choices: you can jump off a cliff, which would be my preferred option, or you can finish cleaning this up and go get me a new smoothie, because it’s the only thing I was looking forward to today, while I go take a shower because I have to get ready for a wedding you signed me up for. But like I said, finding a cliff is preferred.” I stand and toss the towels on the ground and start to walk toward the bathroom when he grabs my arm to stop me.

I yank my arm away, but he follows…closely.

“Sloane, I was busy⁠—”

“Do not give me that bullshit,” I yell at him as I strip my shirt over my head, leaving me in a bra and shorts. I watch his eyes glance over me before meeting my expression. “I don’t want to hear one goddamn excuse from you. There is no way you were so busy you couldn’t at least text me back. People saying they’re busy as an excuse as to why they didn’t get in touch with someone is a fucking cop-out. It takes less than thirty seconds to text and let me know you landed. Just admit it, you had zero intention of talking to me.”

He drags his hand over his face, looking distraught.

Well, welcome to my freaking world.

“Do you realize that I was here, alone, with no communication from you, wondering what the hell was going on, while my world was falling apart⁠—”

“Why was it falling apart?” he asks, a pinch to his brow.

“Oh, so you care now?”

He growls in frustration. “Sloane, please⁠—”

I hold up my hand and take a step back. “You know what your options are—a cliff or a smoothie. Either way, get the hell away from me.”

And then I move into the bathroom where I slam the door, then slowly sink to the floor and cry.

“Pull harder…Husband.”

The last few hours have been tense to say the least.

He keeps trying to talk to me.

I keep telling him to fuck off.

He attempted to apologize—attempt being the key word.

I told him to find a cliff again.

He brought me a smoothie.

I drank it and thanked him because at least I have manners.

Now that I’m showered, makeup is done, hair is done thanks to the unfortunate hairdresser who had to come into this anger-filled room and do my hair, I’m forced to ask Hudson for help with my corset.

“I don’t want to hurt you…Wife,” Hudson says on a grunt.

“How could you possibly hurt me any more than you already have?” I counter, because, well, facts.

Growing frustrated, he lets go of the strings and takes a step back. Not sure why he’s frustrated; he’s the one who fucked up. He’s the one who led me on, who protected me and made me feel cherished, only to flip the switch in a single night and take off to another country without any communication on his end.

I tried.

I tried to talk to him, but he was radio silent, and he just expects to walk back in here as if nothing happened?

Everything happened.

Everything!

My brother found out about us.

He hasn’t spoken to me since.

And I’ve felt so alone.

So freaking alone in this entire thing all because of Hudson.

I can’t think of that now, though.

I just need to get this day over and done with so I can go home and move on.

Which, God, what am I going to do when I get home?

Job one, divorce the motherfucker.

Job two, talk to my brother.

Job three, get my freaking life together.

On a deep breath, I say, “Hudson.”

His eyes fall on me, and once again, they hungrily take me in, eating me up one once-over at a time.

A few days ago, I would have reveled in the way he’s looking at me. I would have craved it. But now…now it irritates me.

“What?” he asks.

I pop a hip and say, “I need you to dress me.”

His Adam’s apple bobs, his hands clench at his side, and one more time, his eyes fall to my chest and then back up to my face where his eyes land on my mouth.

Seriously?

He’s really thinking about that?

After everything?

Well, only one way to solve this…

“Or has your intent been to undress me this entire time?” I ask as I drop my corset to the ground, letting him feast.

And he does.

Like he hasn’t eaten for months.

I close the space between us, push him back on the bed, and then kneel before him. I slide my hands up his thighs as he leans back on his hands, staring down at me.

“Sloane,” he says, his voice gravelly. “Wh-what are you⁠—”

I pass my hand over his cock, just a light swipe, enough to make him sweat. And when I see him relax, just for a moment, I say, “Do you really think I’m about to suck your cock, Husband?”

“I don’t…I don’t know what you’re doing.”

“I’m trying to make it through the next twenty-four hours so I can get the hell away from you, get back home, and hire a divorce attorney.” I stand and pick my corset off the ground, shielding my breasts. “Now stop looking at me as if I’m yours because I’m not.”

He stands and closes the space between us, and when I turn around to offer him my back so he can tie me up, he stops me and gently moves me against the wall so I have to face him.

“Don’t,” I say, shying away from him.

“Sloane, I’m⁠—”

“He knows,” I say, not wanting Hudson to try to apologize to me or change my mind about how I feel.

I feel him stiffen, pause, and then say, “What?”

My eyes meet his. “Jude. He knows.”

He takes a step back. “Since when?”

“Oh, you’re interested now in what’s going on?” I drop the corset again and grab my robe off my bed. I slip it on and cinch it at the waist before turning toward him. “I tried telling you; maybe if you actually answered the text messages I sent you, you would know.” Emotion catches in my voice as I say, “I’ve been out here, all by myself, Hudson, dealing with the fact that my brother is not talking to me, that my sister is crushed, and that I’m stuck here, fulfilling a favor to someone who doesn’t even want to communicate with me.” I gesture toward the couch. “You think my eyes are red for no reason? I’ve been sobbing on that couch, waiting for you. Fucking waiting for you, Hudson.” My eyes well up and I try to will the tears away, but it’s no use as they tip over and fall down my cheeks.

“Fuck.” He grips his hair. “I…I’m sorry, Sloane.”

“Don’t bother.” I start gathering my things. “I’m going to take my dress to the bridal suite and have them get me ready.”

He attempts to stop me, but I pull my hand away.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” I yell, scaring him away just enough that he gives me space. Looking him in the eyes, I say, “Let’s just get through the night looking like a happy couple. Then tomorrow, I’m flying home, and we’re done.”

HUDSON

“Sloane, please stay.” I’m begging. Pleading. So fucking sick to my stomach over what I’ve done to her.

How I’ve neglected her.

This is so much worse than I thought it would be.

You fucking idiot.

“See you at the venue,” she says as she shuts the door, leaving me in the hotel alone, just like I did to her.

I drop down to the couch and push my hands through my hair, frustrated with myself, because that’s the only person I can be frustrated with.

The moment I read through her texts, I knew I fucked up. But her not even talking to me, letting me apologize, this is a level of anger I didn’t see coming.

A level of anger I rightfully deserve.

And the fact that Jude knows and I wasn’t here for her. Sick. I feel fucking sick.

He’s known for a while, but the question is how long? Can’t be any longer ago than when he was asking questions about Sloane in my office, unless that was all an act.

I think back to that day and how casual and surprised he was that his sister was in London.

No, there’s no way he acted like he didn’t know. He would have come into the office snarling. So he found out after that day, question is, how and what the hell is going through his head?

I grab my phone from my pocket and check the time. I hate that Sloane is heading off to the wedding by herself, but I need to figure some things out.

It’s early over in California, but I’m going to need Hardy to wake up. I press his name and put the phone on speaker. It rings and rings and rings until his voicemail picks up.

Not going to do.

I call again.

And again.

Until on the fourth time, he answers the phone with a gravelly voice. “What?”

“I need you to wake the fuck up, man. Jude knows.”

There’s silence, then shuffling.

“Everything okay?” I hear Everly say in the background.

“Yeah, babe. Go back to sleep,” Hardy says. Then more silence until, “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Dude, I fucked up.”

“Why does that seem to be a recurring theme with you?”

“I don’t need the sarcasm, man. I hurt Sloane.”

“Christ,” he mumbles. “What did I say about all of this?”

“I know, okay. I fucking know. I’m an asshole. I thought I was doing the right thing and I wasn’t, and I just got back to London, where Sloane informed me that Jude knows.”

“What? For how fucking long?” Now he’s sounding more awake.

“She wouldn’t give me details. She won’t talk to me. I, uh, I’ve really fucked things up with her.”

“Not surprised,” Hardy says and then grumbles, “Fuck. Has he contacted you?”

“No. I was wondering if he’s been in touch with you.”

“Not since he visited us in the office. Do you think he found out that day?”

“I’m assuming he did. He was looking for Sloane when he came into the office. My guess is that he called her, and then from there, he found out. Not sure how though. Fuck.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Have you heard from him at all, even email?”

“Nothing, and he was supposed to get back to me about a possible project down by the pier.”

“Shit.”

“I told you this wasn’t going to end well; I fucking told you, Hudson.”

“I know. I know.” I lean back on the couch and stare up at the ceiling. “Trust me when I say I’m living in hell.” I clear my throat and say, “I, uh, I didn’t really stay in contact with her while I was gone.”

“What?” Hardy yells on the phone. “Why the fuck would you do that?”

“I was trying to focus on one thing at a time,” I groan. “She…she’s a weakness for me, and I didn’t want to think about her out of fear that I wouldn’t be able to handle Dad. You know the kind of control he has over us…over me. I was nervous, fucking worried over the fact that Dad knew and was going to let the cat out of the bag. I was…I was stressed, and I just…I just tried to go one step at a time.”

“You’re a fucking idiot. Business aside, that’s shitty, man. After everything you put her through? That’s shitty.”

“I fucking know, Hardy. I know how shitty I’ve been. I can see it in her eyes; I can feel it in my chest. I knew the moment I read through her texts. I thought I was leaving her here strong, when in reality she was just putting on a front. And I’ve been trying to apologize, and she won’t let me.”

“Should I feel sorry for you?”

“No. I’m not asking you to feel sorry for me.”

“Then what the hell are you asking?”

“Nothing. I’m just telling you everything that’s happened.”

“Well, it seems to me like everything you’ve done has been a massive mistake, starting with marrying her, then fucking her, then leaving her and not talking to her. I mean, Jesus Christ, if you are trying to be anything but Dad, you’re failing miserably.”

My mouth goes dry and my stomach flips upside down. “What did you just say?”

“You fucking heard me,” Hardy yells. “You’re treating her like a possession, not like a human. That’s something Dad would do.”

“I’m not treating her like a possession.”

“Really? Because all I’ve seen you do is use her. Use her for business gain, use her for your own pleasure. What are you really doing for her? And no doubt she’s pissed at you since she won’t even let you apologize. Do you know what this is going to do to our business? Christ, Hudson. You thought me getting together with Everly was bad? This is a whole other level and could possibly fuck everything up for us.” I can practically hear him shake his head as he adds, “Didn’t talk to her, Jesus fuck, man.”

“I’m…I’m sorry,” I say somberly. I knew I was wrong, but labeling it a move Dad would make, that’s a revelation I was not prepared for because he’s right. He could not be more right. This is exactly how my dad would treat the situation. And here I am, walking into his office all high-and-mighty, when in reality, I’m just as bad as him. “I need to fix this.”

“And how do you plan on doing that?” Hardy asks.

Swallowing my emotions, I say, “Putting her first for once.”

Hardy is silent for a moment and then says, “Something you should have done from the beginning.”

“I agree.” I’m quiet for a second, thinking over what Hardy said. “I don’t want to be like him. I don’t want to be like Dad. He never put personal relationships ahead of business.”

“Because he assumed if business was good, then everything else was good, and I think we’re slowly starting to realize that if we put personal above business, then the business thrives.”

“Yeah,” I say softly. “I like Sloane, Hardy. I shouldn’t, but I like her a lot.”

He sighs on the other line. “Enough to risk everything?”

I press my palm to my eye, rubbing it. “Yeah.”

“Then you’re in the right frame of mind to fix things.”

Beep.

“Hold on a second,” I say and then look at my screen where I see an incoming call from Haisley. “Fuck.”

“What?”

“Haisley is calling me.”

“She knows.”

“Yup.”

“You have to answer,” Hardy says. “Just remember who you’re putting first, then everything else will fall into place.”

“I sure as fuck hope so.” I hang up with Hardy and answer Haisley’s call. “Hey, Hais.”

“You married Sloane?” she shouts.

I wince and sink farther into the couch. “Listen⁠—”

“No, you listen. I have a husband who is ready to rip my brother’s head off, and the only reason he hasn’t yet is because I’ve stopped him, or else he’d be in London right now, tearing you apart.” I don’t know what to say to that, so I remain quiet. “What the hell were you thinking? You know how protective Jude is, you know he trusted you to make sure his sister was taken care of. Why would you do that?”

I blow out a heavy breath and say, “It was a mutual decision that benefitted both parties.”

“What do you mean it benefitted—oh my God, Hudson, was this all done for business?”

I wince again and nervously say, “Yes, it was.”

“I…I can’t… Oh my God… Wait, is that where the money came from? Is that why they were able to buy the house?”

“Yes,” I answer.

She’s quiet. I swear I can hear a pin drop through the phone. And then, “Disgusting, Hudson. You bought her.”

“It…it wasn’t like that. And it’s not currently like that”

“What do you mean… ‘it’s not currently like that’?”

“I…I like her, Hais. A lot.”

There’s silence.

More silence than I want there to be.

And after what feels like minutes, she says, “What?”

“I have feelings for her. And I know I’ve fucked this up and I know that Jude is pissed, but I can’t deny the way I feel about her. Sloane means something to me.”

“But…but you said it was for business.”

“Started that way, but she’s…she’s made an impact on me, and I can’t sit on these feelings and do nothing about it. I know Jude is pissed. I know he is not happy and is probably hurting from the betrayal he must be feeling. But I promise you, I will fix this. I promise.”

“How, Hudson?”

“I don’t know yet,” I say quietly. “But I promise I will.”