“He wasn’t keeping it a secret,” I say. “He was waiting for the right time to tell you. He wanted to announce it here, in front of everyone.”
“Well, either way.” Her eyes widen before squinting. “I wasn’t my best self that day, and for that, I apologize. I look forward to getting to know you, dear. You must be something special for my son to finally take himself off the market.”
“Thank you, Helena. I look forward to getting to know you as well.”
We stand in silence, each of us eye to eye, and then she nods.
“Okay, well, I’ll let you get settled. Please join us outside when you’re ready,” she says. “My husband should be back from town any moment with the lobsters. He can’t wait to meet you.”
Helena shows herself out, closing the door when she leaves, and I sink into the middle of a down-covered bed, surrounded by a million fluffy pillows.
This is heaven on earth.
Literally.
I don’t ever want to leave.
A gentle knock at the door pulls me out of my Cinderella moment, and I spring up, adjusting my hat and brushing my hair back into place.
“Come in,” I call.
The door cracks open and Hudson steps in. “Just checking on you. Is this room going to be okay?”
“Are you kidding me?” I rise, moving to him, and I can’t stop smiling. “This is the nicest room I’ve ever seen in my entire life.”
He laughs, like he thinks I’m joking.
I’m not.
“I could live here,” I say. “Forever.”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
I roll my eyes. “You know what I mean.”
“She put you in the east tower,” he says.
“Is that a bad thing?” I arch a brow.
“You’re going to be over here all alone.” He slips his hands into his pockets and moves toward the windows. “Everyone else stays in the south wing. Or the guest house.”
“Maybe she just wanted to give me privacy? I’m not going to complain about this room,” I say with a sigh. “I mean, how could I? Look at that view.”
“You should see the views from my room.”
“Are you trying to give me a complex? Your mother was nice enough to put me up in this beautiful suite and apologize for the way she behaved the first time we met,” I say. “Don’t make me second-guess her intentions or it’s going to be a long four weeks.”
Hudson comes closer, taking my hands in his and pressing his body nearly against mine. “Just wish you were closer to me, that’s all.”
I tilt my head, chuffing. “You don’t have to do this. No one’s watching.”
“I don’t have to do what?”
“Pretend.”
“I’m not pretending. I wish you were closer,” he says, eyes searching mine.
“Why? For booty call purposes?”
“Booty call? Do people even use that term anymore?”
I roll my eyes again, and he slips his hands around my waist. Breathing him in, my heart skips a hard beat before settling into a quick rhythm.
“I have absolutely no idea what you’re doing.” I say, half-teasing, half just being honest. “Why do I feel like you want to kiss me right now?”
“I want to do a lot more than just kiss you right now.” He snickers, his hand sliding up my arm before settling just beneath my jaw. Angling my mouth toward his, he brings his lips close but goes no further. “I know what you are to me, Mari. And I know what this is. But having you here is like this … breath of fresh air … that’s the only way I know how to describe it. And your body in this dress … and my mother placing you just a hair out of reach … is pure fucking torture.”
“Like you had a chance anyway.”
“Like I had a chance? Mari, I’ve already had you,” he says. “But I want you again.”
“What makes you so sure the feeling’s mutual?”
“If I kissed you right now,” he asks, “would you make me stop?”
The warmth of his lips graze mine, though he hasn’t kissed me. Not yet.
Someone clears their throat in the corner, and our lust-filled gazes dart in that direction.
“Hello, Mother,” Hudson says.
“The Sheffields have arrived. Please make yourselves presentable and join us downstairs.” Helena disappears before I have a chance to read her expression, and I was too embarrassed to make eye contact.
“Oh, god.” I bury my face in my hands.
“Trust me, that was more awkward for her than it was for us,” he says, pulling my hands down. “But we shouldn’t keep them waiting.”
He leads me down the hallways and corridors and around corners until we get to the curved staircase where laughter echoes off the white-washed walls and double-height foyer ceiling.
“There he is!” A round-bellied man in country club attire waddles toward Hudson, arms open wide. “Hudson, it’s been too long. Haven’t seen you since … this time last year.”
The man laughs at his own joke and reminds me of a retired uncle who probably golfs for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
“Good to see you, Duke.” Hudson pulls me close.
“Is this …?” A woman in sleek, sun-bleached hair and a vintage Emilio Pucci maxi dress sashays in our direction, her fingers lifting to her lips and an enormous diamond glinting in the natural sunlight.
“My fiancée,” Hudson says, tossing me a wink. “Duke and Cybil Sheffield, meet Maribel Collins.”
“Well isn’t she a pretty little thing?” Cybil’s excited tone is forced as she steps in and air kisses my cheek, and she keeps a careful distance. I can’t help but feel like she’s sizing me up, comparing me to her daughter. “Audrina, meet Hudson’s future wife.”
She says “future wife” like the words leave a curious taste in her mouth, but Hudson gives my hand a reassuring squeeze.
“So you’re the lucky girl.” Audrina’s eyes wash over me head to toe as she squares her shoulders. She’s pretty, in a mean-girl sort of way. Too pretty, almost. Life’s been generous to her. Silky, chocolate hair drips down her shoulders, and her skin is flawless, lacking so much as a single worry line or premature wrinkle. Hooking a hand on her bony hip, her bee-stung lips arch into a devious smile. “Welcome to the family.”
Eighteen
Mari
* * *
I feel like now wouldn’t be the best time to tell Helena I’m not the biggest fan of seafood, so I bite my tongue and decide to suffer through.
It’s just one dinner.
One of many.
I’m sure I’ll be downing all kinds of New England fare over the next few weeks, and I might as well learn to appreciate some properly cooked, freshly caught seafood.
Helena prances around the kitchen in an unstained blue gingham apron with white lace trim, peering over the shoulders of one of the chefs as he drops a live lobster into a pot of boiling water.
I reach for a glass of water and look away.
I can’t.
“Would anyone like another glass of wine?” Helena returns to the table, a bottle of red in her left hand and a bottle of white in her right.