“I do, actually.” To her great relief she somehow managed to keep her voice level.
“Tell me.”
“I was thinking about Paris,” she said, trying to be as casual as possible.
His brow rose. “Is that so?”
“Mmmhmm. How would you feel about spending the night there instead of going directly to London? New Year’s Eve in the City of Lights?”
A warm smile formed on his lips. “Whatever makes you happy, Allie.”
“I want you to be happy, too, Hudson.”
“With the exception of perhaps a communal kiss,” he smirked, “I’m happy being anywhere with you.” He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss just below her ear.
In spite of everything, Allie let out a small laugh, partly from the memory of Hudson’s reaction to the Venice celebration and partly from the sensation of his lips and tongue, sucking and kissing her sensitive skin. “No, no communal kiss under the Eiffel Tower, I promise.” Her hands found their way into his hair as his lips drifted down the column of her throat.
“Hmm, perhaps a king-size bed with a view of the Eiffel Tower instead.”
She tugged his hair until he raised his head to look at her. “Are you sure?” she asked. “We’d miss the lovely evening you planned on the River Thames.”
“We can charter the boat next week if you’d like?”
“I’d like. Very much.” A genuine smile stretched across her face at the thought of romantic dinner cruise with Hudson the following week. By then all of this mess with Julian would be behind them and they could get back to enjoying the new life they were building together.
“Then it’s decided. I’ll notify the conductor and arrange to have our bags unloaded at the next stop.” He stood and dug his phone out of the front pocket of his jeans. “Penthouse at the George V sound good?” he asked.
She smiled. “Sounds perfect.”
Hudson lifted the silver dome and snagged a piece of bacon before strolling out of the room with the phone pressed to his ear. Allie was dialing Harper’s number before the door had even fully closed.
After what seemed like a dozen rings, the call was finally answered.
“Hello.” The voice on the other line was so quiet, for a moment Allie thought in her haste she’d dialed the wrong number.
“Harper?”
“Who is it, babe?” a deep voice, thick with sleep, asked from somewhere close to the phone. Allie glanced at the time. It was just past noon in Chicago.
A few muffled words were spoken before Harper came back to the line. Normally Allie would have been all about asking for details about the mysterious man, but there was no time for that now.
“Hey you, aren’t you supposed to be sipping champagne in the French countryside?”
“I need your help.”Allie’s tone must have conveyed the urgency and anxiety she felt, because Harper was completely alert the next time she spoke.
“Give me one second,” she told her overnight guest. After a bit of shuffling she was back. “What’s wrong?”
The alarm in her friend’s voice brought the reality of the situation crashing down around her. Allie squeezed her eyes shut to stem the tears that stung her eyes. “It’s Julian,” she said past the lump in her throat.
“What’s that fucker done now?”
“He wants me to return his ring and he’s threatening to make trouble if I don’t.”
“Did you tell Hudson?” She let out a decisive snort. “I’m sure he could show Julian a whole new meaning for the word.”
Allie wanted nothing more than to tell Hudson everything. He would know the best way to handle Julian. But more than that, because it was killing her to lie to him. Secrets and lies had torn them apart. The last thing she wanted to do was have something else wedged between them. But this was different. This was about protecting Hudson and Nick.
“I don’t want to drag Hudson into this. Julian is my problem. I’ll give him his precious ring and then he’ll be out of my life. For good.”
“You can’t trust him.”
No, she couldn’t. But he’d left her no choice. “Will you bring me the ring?”
“To Paris?” Harper squeaked.
“Yes. I’ll take care of everything. All you have to do is get the ring from my brownstone and head to O’Hare with your passport. I think there’s a British Airways flight leaving around five thirty.”
“Tonight?”
“Yes, it should get you into de Gaulle around nine tomorrow morning. I’ll meet you there.”
“Whoa, slow down. Believe me, I’d like nothing more than to hop a jet to France. And you know I’d do anything for you. But I’m not so sure this is a good—”
“I wouldn’t ask if there was any other way,” Allie interrupted, her voice wavering with emotion. “Please.”
A moment of silence hung on the line. “Tell me what I need to do,” Harper said.
Allie gave her a quick rundown of the ring’s location, and after thanking her profusely and swearing her to secrecy, hung up to make the necessary arrangements. When she was done, she dressed quickly and packed up the rest of their things. As she zipped the suitcase she couldn’t help but wonder how she was going to make it through the next thirty hours. Hudson knew her so well, knew her moods, her expressions. It was going to be damn near impossible to act as though nothing was wrong. She took a deep breath. Somehow she’d find a way. She had to. Hudson and Nick’s very lives depended on it.
Chapter Twenty-eight
Paris had no shortage of luxury hotels, but the George V was inarguably the place to stay. An eight-story landmark just minutes from the Champs-Élysées, the hotel was the epitome of elegant sophistication. And after being crammed into a boxcar with goddamn bunk beds, Hudson was more than happy—make that thrilled—to trade in the one-of-a-kind experience through the European countryside for a king-size bed with sheets having a thread count to match the U.S. national debt. Not to mention a place where he didn’t have to walk down the hall to take a piss.
The concierge had greeted them immediately, taken care of checking them in, and quickly instructed a bellhop to escort them to their room. The private elevator with secure access had shot them up to the penthouse smoothly and efficiently. And the room itself was even better than advertised with a view that offered the perfect vantage point for enjoying New Year’s Eve fireworks from the comfort of a luxurious king size bed. But as the day wore on, the sixteen-hundred-square-foot space began to feel like a shoebox.
As the morning had turned into an afternoon that darkened into night, Allie seemed to withdraw. She became more isolated, offering what felt like forced laughs or strained smiles. Something was off. Logic told him it was nothing, that it was all a matter of his own perception. But the pit of his stomach told him otherwise.
Hudson fought the feeling and took a deep breath, trying to relax.
Hell of a lot of good that did.
In the bathroom, he planted his left palm on the marble while his right cranked the hot and cold. In a rush, water cascaded out of the faucet and began to fill the oversize infinity tub that was smack in the middle of the room. Turning his head, he saw Allie in the living room, staring out the double doors that openedto a terrace with three-hundred-and-sixty-degree views of the city. But she seemed oblivious to the night sky, the ambient glow of the city humming below her, and the Eiffel Tower glittering in the distance. Instead her empty gaze was indicative of someone stuck between two polars, concentrating hard on something while at the same time trying to get away from it. Hudson knew all about that; he was a pro at shutting down and sending out the hands-off message when the world was getting a little too clear.