Sitting up straight, I remind myself I’m here for one thing and one thing only.
I have a job to do.
And I’ll be damned if I give a flying fuck what the Potomac Ice Princess thinks.
“Believe me, I won’t,” I whisper, feeling his steady gaze on me. All evening he’s been looking at me like I walked straight out of the pages of this year’s Sports Illustrated swimsuit edition.
“Cut it out, you two!” Cybil chuckles, seating herself across from us as the chefs bring plates of garnished, well-presented lobster. “God, you make me miss being young. Those were the days, weren’t they, Duke?”
“What’s that, dear?” Duke turns his focus from Conrad and slips his arm around his wife.
“These two,” Cybil says, wearing a slow, wine-induced grin. “They remind me of us when we were young.”
“Wait,” Duke says, his brows meeting. “You mean … we’re not young anymore?”
The entire table erupts into polite laughter at Duke’s lame joke, and I realize just as a bright red crustacean is being placed before me that I have no idea how to eat this thing.
Shit.
Everyone is focused on their plates, their silverware tinkling against the china as the conversation evaporates into quiet chewing.
It looks so natural to them, like they’ve done this a million times before. I glance toward the head of the table where a bowl of dinner rolls rests, untouched, in front of Duke. If I had something else on my plate, at least I could look busy. Sitting here, staring at this cherry red cockroach-of-the-sea and clearly not eating it is going to be glaringly obvious the second these people take a break from cracking claws.
“I’ll be right back,” I say softly, leaning into Hudson.
“Everything okay?” he asks.
“Yeah. Fine. I’m going to go find Audrina and let her know we’re eating.” Excusing myself, I head for the nearest bathroom and retrieve my phone, quickly pulling up an online video on how to eat lobster.
When I leave, I bump into Audrina standing in the dimly lit hallway before a mirror, a small makeup compact in her hand as she presses powder into the skin around her nose.
“There you are,” I say. “We’re eating.”
She shoots me a death glare, and it’s only then that I see the red in her eyes.
“You’ve been crying.” I take a step closer, though every part of me is screaming inside to let it go.
She doesn’t want my sympathy.
She wants Hudson.
“How astute of you, Maribel.” She snickers, rolling her eyes.
“I don’t know what went down between you and Hudson in the past,” I say, “but he’s moved on and this wedding is happening, and it’s really in everyone’s best interest if we could all move forward with respect and kindness.”
Audrina laughs. “God, you’re pathetic. Do you hear yourself right now?”
My jaw clenches. I refuse to let this pompous bitch get the best of me.
“How well do you even know Hudson anyway?” Audrina turns to me, her emerald eyes halfway between a squint and a glare. “It’s like you just came out of nowhere.”
“I know him well enough to know I’m going to marry him.” I raise my chin, folding my arms across my chest.
“He’s not the marrying kind,” she says, clicking her compact shut.
“Maybe he didn’t use to be. People change all the time,” I say. “From the moment I met him, he’s shown me that people aren’t always what they seem. And if you take the time to get to know them, sometimes you realize they’re worth all the trouble they put you through.”
“You’ve got that right.” Audrina huffs, angling her body toward me and resting a hand on her hip. “Hudson’s not what he seems. At all. We’re all just … pawns … in his game. You’ll see soon enough.”
Footsteps send her gaze darting past my shoulders, and I turn around to see Hudson entering the hall.
“Everything all right?” he asks, slinking up behind me and placing his hands on my hips.
Audrina’s pouty lips twist into a sneer. “Always.”
She excuses herself, her heels clicking across the hardwood until the sound grows distant.
“What was that about?” he asks.
Exhaling, I shake my head. “I think she’s threatened by me. She doesn’t want us together.”
“Did she say that?”
“In not so many words,” I say.
“That’s not appropriate.” His lips press flat. “I don’t want her giving you any trouble, Mari. You’ll tell me if she’s bothering you, won’t you?”
“She’s not bothering me. I honestly don’t care what she says or does or thinks or whatever.” I unfold my arms. “And it’s weird that you’re being so protective of me.”
“How is that weird? You’re my fiancée.”
“Fiancée,” I remind him, placing air quotes around the word as I speak it. I cock my head. “Anyway, I can hold my own. Trust me.”
He releases a held breath, his blue eyes glinting with relief as his lips tug into a half-smirk. “That’s … kind of sexy, Mari.”
“Come on, let’s go back.” Rolling my eyes, I slip my arm into his. “And you’re still not getting laid tonight.”
Nineteen
Hudson
* * *
She’s out cold.
And this teacup is seconds from burning the palm of my hand.
Placing the steaming mug on her nightstand, the bed shifts under my weight and Mari begins to stir. Pulling the covers to her neck, she releases a dreamy moan before rolling to her side.
It takes her a moment, but the second she realizes I’m next to her, she brushes the hair from her face and sits up with a startle.
“When did you come in here?” she asks, pushing up on her hands.
“Good morning.” I reach for the tea, handing it over. “And a minute ago. You were sleeping. I didn’t want to wake you.”
One of the bay windows is cracked open halfway, and an ocean breeze ruffles the gauzy curtains. The sun is just beginning to rise over the water, painting Sea La Vie in a serene glow that feels like the summers of my youth.
“Thank you.” She takes a sip of tea, cupping it in both hands when she’s done and pulling her knees to her chest.
“Sleep well?”
“Like a dream.” Mari nods, mouth tugging up at the sides. “What’s the plan today?”
“Thought I’d take you to the market. We could pick up a few items for dinner later, maybe some local art. I don’t know if you’re into souvenirs or any of that,” I say.
“Really?” She lifts a brow.
“Really, what?”
“Just surprises me that you’re into that sort of stuff,” she says. “You’re so … metropolitan playboy. You’re like an anti-tourist.”
“I’m not into that sort of stuff,” I say. “You’re going to be here for the next four weeks, and I want you to get acclimated. Plus, believe it or not, this place can get kind of monotonous after a bit. Staying busy helps with that.”