I scoff. "Well, I only sleep with men I trust."
He nods. Quiet for a moment.
"You think you could?"
"Could what?"
"Trust me? Enough to make this work? Stay married. I help you raise the baby." He pauses. "Adopt it?"
My eyes go wide.
"It?Adoptit?" I almost screech. "Have you taken something? Seriously? You’re delusional."
His jaw tenses. He grips the steering wheel as he pulls back into traffic.
"Just a thought. We might have to put my name on the birth certificate."
A thought that makes me want to throw up all over this expensive leather. My stomach drops.
"No, Hudson. This baby is Ace's, and I'd never take that away from him. We will never be a real thing. You can't blackmail someone into falling for you. All you're doing is using my fears to hold me hostage. It's illegal, immoral, and disgusting. You have no say over my baby."
He nods, turning onto his road. Doesn't answer. Doesn't look at me.
As soon as he parks, I jump out and unlock the front door.
"I have company coming," he calls behind me. "It might get loud. It is a Friday, after all."
I nod without turning around. "Fine by me. I've got headphones."
I storm upstairs, slam my door, and catch my breath.
Adopting Ace's baby. How far is this man willing to go? And the worst part—that was him trying to benice.That was Hudson Blake's version of extending an olive branch.
I pull out my phone. There’s only one person who can help me.
Me: Can we meet tonight? I really need a friend.
This isn't something Emma can help with. There's only one woman who will understand the mess I'm in.
I pace my room. The front door opens downstairs. Footsteps. More than one set. His bedroom door closes, and I hear laughter—two voices, maybe three—and relief washes over me. He's occupied.
My phone buzzes.
G: I'll send a car, be ready in ten minutes.
Me: See you soon. I'll meet the driver at the end of the road; no one needs to know I'm coming.
I change out of the dress I wore to his parents' house. Pull on a T-shirt and a skirt with sandals. Something that feels like me instead of the costume Hudson dresses me in.
I make my silent escape down the stairs, past his bedroom door where the headboard is already hitting the wall, and out into the warm LA night.
Gianna's house is enormous. But it's nothing like Hudson's sterile mansion with its marble floors and modern art. This is old. Gothic. Dark stone walls covered in climbing ivy. Arched windows with iron frames. A fountain in the courtyard. It's elegant, the way a cathedral is elegant. Beautiful yet probably full of ghosts.
A woman in a black dress leads me through to the dining room.
Gianna is sitting at the head of a long table, cigarette in one hand, phone in the other. She's wearing a silky green dress and her dark hair is down, falling over her tattooed shoulders. Without the gala armor, without the red lipstick and the designer bag, she looks younger. But her eyes are the same.
She sees me and smiles, stubbing out the cigarette.
