“Oh. Um, kind of.” I trace a finger around the edge of the plate that was already waiting for me, trying to avoid making eye contact.
“I have a dress fitting for the gala with the designer. And then I have a wax appointment for…well, you know. Then a mani-pedi.”
The word “waxing” floats in the air, feeling indecent. That’s what happens when I don’t think before I speak, but it just came out. I’ve never been embarrassed when telling my usual security guy. But he’s also not Hudson. Oh my God, I groan internally, wanting to disappear under the table.
He doesn’t say anything at first, then his lips curve upward into that infuriating half-smile that sends a completely different kind of heat spiraling through my stomach down to no man’s land.
He doesn’t say anything, but I can feel the heat in my cheeks, the mortification all the way down my neck. “It’s…umm…you know, for the dress.”
Just stop talking, Ivory. You’re making it worse.
Thankfully, he lets it go.
“Of course, I’ll come with you. We’ll keep it simple, giving you space. But just know, I’m always close by.”
I nod, not trusting myself to speak. I should be relieved he’s not teasing me, but I can’t help the way my body reacts. It’s embarrassing how badly I want him to notice me.
After breakfast, I take my time gathering my things, nerves buzzing the whole time.
Downstairs, the lobby is all polished marble and glass, empty except for a bored concierge and a woman arranging flowers. Hudson walks ahead, and I follow, watching the way he moves, the way he sizes up every shadow. I try to act casual while scanning the lobby for potential threats, but honestly, it’s hard to focus when his ass looks that good in those jeans.
What the hell is wrong with me?If my father could read my thoughts right now, he’d fire Hudson on the spot.
Hudson remains on high alert the whole time, eyes focused. While I struggle not to trip over my own feet as my eyes scatter like marbles across the floor. He reaches the car first, holding the door open for me. As I slide in, it feels like I’m being sealed off into a different world, one where the rules feel almost nonexistent and breakable.
We start moving, and I notice the instant shift in Hudson. All business, eyes glued to the mirrors, scanning every car, every person walking down the sidewalk. His jaw is set, while his mouth stays in a hard line. I should be nervous, but with him next to me, I feel safe and untouchable.
I want to reach out and touch his arm, see if he’s as solid as he looks. I want to lean over and kiss him, curious what that would feel like. But, of course, I don’t. Instead, I stare out the window, biting my lip, hoping he can’t read my mind.
The designer’s studio is in a narrow building with gold on the windows and a name I can’t pronounce. Inside, it’s all mirrors, mannequins, and the sweet but sickly smell of perfume. The designer is perfect, with small, framed glasses perched on the end of her nose and a tape measure around her neck. She fusses over the dress, while her assistant buzzes around like a worker bee at every demand, eyes darting to Hudson and back to me.
I slip behind a curtain into a world of silk and pins. The stunning dress is blue and silver, with sequins catching the light, but as they zip me up, I realize it’s too tight. The bodice crushes my chest, while the fabric presses into my ribs. I can barely breathe.
I can hear my mother’s sharp voice in my head. “Stand up straight, Ivory.”
As if she were here, I do, my jaw clenched, trying to look anywhere but the mirror. My reflection looks different, older, but somehow smaller. I dread what she’s going to say when she finds out the dress doesn’t fit.
The designer struggles with the zipper, finally getting it closed, but I can feel the blood draining from my face. My lungs are seizing, while my head starts spinning.
“Perfect. Now, hold still,” the designer says. “Let me measure the hem.”
I try. I really do. But black spots start dancing at the edge of my vision, and the world tilts.
“Can you…can you please take it off?” My voice sounds strained.
“One more minute, sweetheart, hold on…” the designer says, barely glancing at me.
But I’m drowning. My chest is on fire, my hands numb. My knees buckle, and I sway.
Suddenly, he’s there. Hudson bursts through the curtain, his presence like a thunderclap. He catches me before I hit the floorwith one rock-solid arm around my waist, the other yanking the zipper down so fast I hear stitches pop. The dress pops open, feeling the icy air hit my bare skin. Realizing with a shock of horror I’m topless. My naked boobs and hard nipples are completely exposed for everyone around to see.
I gasp.
Trying to cover myself, while Hudson instinctively pulls my body to his, my pressed against his solid chest, and I grip his shirt, burning with humiliation.
God, he smells so good.
I look up, and Hudson isn’t even looking at me. His focus is all fire and rage, locked on the designer.
