Forever With You

by Laurelin Paige

  And the light I saw in him only served to highlight the darkness in her.

  But Hudson had gone back to his call, so I kept my comments to myself, letting the fury build inside me until my leg was trembling and the sound of my blood rushing could be heard in my ears.

  "Shall I come in with you?" our driver asked when we arrived at the hotel. He was doing double duty as security, and if I were alone, Hudson would kill me if the answer wasn't in the affirmative. Even together, it made sense to me.

  So I said, "Yes.”

  At the same time, Hudson answered, "That will not be necessary."

  I glared at my husband. "You don't even want to try to intimidate her? We’ll look a whole lot stronger if we go up there with a bodyguard on our side."

  Hudson made an impatient sound. "I'm trying to prevent a scene. I'm sure she will be more than intimidated at the sight of you as worked up as you are and me behind you. You can circle around, Andrews. We won't be too long. I'll text when we’re done."

  Even through my irritation, I was impressed that he knew the name of this particular driver. There were so many new members to the security team, I hadn't yet gotten a chance to learn everyone. I was lucky some random guy hadn't come up and said that he worked for Jordan. At this point, I might've believed them, gotten in the car, and let him take me wherever he wanted.

  It was nerve-wracking to realize that my fervor to solve the case could well have blinded me to other details.

  I really needed to do a better job of noticing my surroundings.

  My surroundings at the moment were quite posh. Celia—or her husband—had nice taste. The hotel was definitely five stars. The kind of place that took the security and privacy of its guests seriously.

  The kind of place I’d dealt with in my own past, too.

  "Do you know her room number?" I asked, surveying the lobby. The bar was right next to the front desk. An older couple was getting up from their seats.

  "I do," Hudson said smugly. "But how do you expect to get up to her floor? The elevator requires a key card to work."

  I rolled my eyes. "Oh, God. It's as if you've never stalked anyone." I continued to watch the older couple as they exited the bar and headed toward the elevators. Timing my steps, I managed to make it there right before them, then stopped, searching through my bag as if I was looking for my key. When the couple pressed the elevator button, and stepped inside, I stepped on after them, still digging through my purse. Hudson hurried and followed in, too.

  "What floor?" the lady asked after she pressed her own button, using her key card to make it light up.

  When Hudson didn't answer right away, I poked him with my elbow.

  "Oh. Twenty-seven,” he said.

  "I haven't found the key yet. Just a minute. I know it's in here," I continued my pretend purse exploration, letting out an anguished sigh.

  "We can get you up," the lady said, using her key to push the twenty-seventh floor button. "You're on your own after that."

  "Thank you. My mother's in the room so if I can't find the key, she can at least let us in. That's so helpful. Thanks again." I dropped the search, and settled in at the back of the car next to Hudson.

  "You probably didn't even grab it," he said quietly, but loud enough for them to overhear. "You're always leaving the room without the key. My forgetful girl." With a light press of his lips to my temple, the couple smiled at us and looked away.

  Maybe he'd never stalked anyone, but of course he was good at these games, too.

  In another life, it might have been fun to play them together.

  But in this one, we weren’t those people anymore. And we were better. Our life together was precious, and it was worth protecting.

  I tapped my hand along my thigh anxiously as we rode up. The elderly couple got off. We climbed higher. Top floor. And then it was our turn.

  I pulled out of the car then remembered I didn't know the room number. I turned back and looked expectantly at Hudson.

  "2705," he said, answering the unasked question.

  A quick glance at the signage on the wall said to go left. I made the turn, my confidence rising with each step that I took. I counted the doors as I passed each one. The Presidential Suite, read the sign outside 2705.

  "Of course," I muttered, raising my hand to knock. My heart was pounding, and all my outrage was reaching a boiling point.

  My children.

  My children.

  Hudson halted me before I could pound my raised fist. "We should be adult about this," he said. "Handle this civilly. In an appropriate manner."

  "Mm hm." I was noncommittal as I spotted a doorbell. A fucking doorbell in a hotel room. I reached for it.

  "Alayna, you hear me? You're going to behave, right?"

  "Totally." I pushed the bell.

  It was quiet for a moment, no sound came from inside. Then there were voices, first too muffled to make out followed by Celia's voice increasing in volume as she presumably walked toward the door. "… probably turndown service."

  Turndown service. That's where I should be—in bed, relaxing, waiting for turndown service with no cares in the world. Instead of scared out of my freaking mind, worrying about my children and their safety and whether or not someone was actually after them.

  The door opened, and as soon as I saw Celia standing there in a white silk robe, her face and hair fresh and clean from a shower, I lurched.

  "How dare you? How dare you?" I screamed in her face.

  Celia took a step back, caught off-guard, allowing me entrance and Hudson came in behind me, immediately grabbing my arms, probably afraid that I'd end up swinging.

  He wasn't wrong.

  Well, he could hold my fists, but he couldn’t hold my tongue. "It's one thing to mess with me, but you crossed a line when you involved my child. You are unbelievable, you know that? It's unfathomable that anyone, let alone another mother, could do this to someone else, just for kicks. How dare you?"

  "Civil, Alayna, remember?" Hudson said at my ear as I struggled against him.

  "Jesus, what the fuck?" Celia flashed her blue eyes wide, her expression alarmed and innocent.

  "Exactly, what the fuck, Celia?" I yelled.

  "Hold on, hold on," Hudson wrangled my wrists behind my back, so that he was holding them with one large hand. The other pulled out the card that we’d received and handed it over to Celia.

  Like that was a smart move.

  Celia opened the card and read it, her face going pale. She looked genuinely concerned. She was a better actress than I'd given her credit for.

  "Where did you get this?" she asked.

  "Someone gave it to Mina at the park," Hudson answered.

  "Oh my God," she exclaimed.

  I was done with the charade. "It was you! You're so fucking sick. Hudson said you'd changed, but you will never change. You have no heart. Manipulating and conniving. Does your husband know what… what a… dragon he married?"

  I bucked against Hudson's hold on me, seriously wanting to tear out her throat. His grip remained firm as he shouted out commands—“stay”, “calm”—and Celia rattled on indignant protestations of it wasn't me.

  Suddenly a booming voice cut through the noise. "What the hell is going on here?"

  The room suddenly grew silent, all attention focused on the man who'd entered the room. Hudson was even startled enough to loosen his grip, and I pulled away from him, quickly taking two large steps to the side and out of his reach. He didn't try to come after me. He was too busy watching Celia, noticing the way she had turned every bit of her focus to the stranger.

  Not really a stranger, I supposed. I'd never met him, but I knew who he was. Edward Fasbender, Celia's husband. Genevieve's father. The owner of Accelecom, the company that had recently joined forces with Pierce Industries and Werner Media to create a three-point alliance, determined to corner the media technology market.

  My first impression, even with his shirt unbuttoned at the collar and his cuffs loo
sened, was that he was a very intimidating man. There was a palpable change in the air when he walked in. He was at least a decade older than us. Powerful, formidable. Much like Celia.

  Though her stance had weakened since he'd entered the room. Had she finally met her match?

  "Edward,” she said, taking a step toward him. "It's nothing. Hudson and Alayna are... old friends."

  "Old friends, my ass," I blurted out.

  Hudson threw me a sharp glare, as though warning me silent. It felt patronizing as hell, and I made a note to tell him later.

  "Is there a problem?" Edward asked, coming further into the space. "I didn't realize that you and Hudson Pierce had been friends, darling."

  Celia, who always had something to say, who always had her best face on—lowered her eyes demurely, saying nothing.

  It was startling to watch. Made no sense.

  And then it hit me —her husband really didn't know about Celia's past.

  Which meant I had leverage.

  I stepped around Celia so I could speak directly to Edward. "Actually, there is a problem."

  "Alayna," Hudson hissed. Then, addressing his peer, "Edward, you haven't met my wife."

  "No, I haven't. And I hear we are about to be family." He stepped closer, and I found there was something oddly charismatic about him, and also oddly frightening. He didn't offer his hand, simply studied me as though inspecting a new suit he wanted to purchase. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Alayna."

  "It's really just a misunderstanding," Celia said, her voice shaking almost imperceptibly.

  "I'd like to hear what Alayna has to say, if you don't mind?" His stare pierced into his wife like a knife at her throat, until she lowered her eyes again. "Alayna?"

  Feeling bolstered, I lifted my chin up. "Hudson and I are being terrorized. We have reason to suspect the threats may be coming from your wife."

  "That's not necessarily true," Hudson said behind me, and I swear to God I wanted to punch him in the nuts. How much more fucking evidence did he need? For someone who claimed to be here to back me up and maybe enjoy the show while he was at it, he was awfully quick to abandon me.

  At the same time he corrected me, Celia protested again. "I haven't done anything to you. I didn't send a single one of those threats."

  Edward put his hand up, silencing his wife again with the mere gesture.

  "If she didn't do it," I continued, "She could prove it, and help us find out who is threatening us, at the same time. It would be easy, if she'd let us see the journals that she kept from the time that she and Hudson…" I paused.

  Here it got tricky. Exposing the exact nature of Hudson and Celia's relationship to her husband would remove the leverage that I had. I just had to dangle the possibility in front of her.

  "Hudson and Celia had a working relationship in the past," I finally said. "I don't mean to butt into your marriage. It would be truly cruel and devious to interfere with your relationship." I glared at Celia. "And so I apologize if this is the first you are hearing about their former partnership. But my family’s safety is on the line, and this is truly important."

  Edward nodded, his face stony and stoic. If I'd ever thought that Hudson was unreadable, he was Dr. Seuss compared to the dense text of Edward Fasbender.

  I watched, and waited.

  "I see," he said after a moment, and then it was his turn to surprise me. "I do know about Hudson and Celia's working relationship, of course."

  "You do?" I felt gutted, losing my one ace as quickly as I gained it.

  "I do. Celia tells me everything. Don't you, darling?" He moved to put his arm around her, and she fit perfectly into the crook of his. As though she'd always belonged beside him. "Well, almost everything."

  Celia bent her head at his last remark, a clear sign that she felt guilty over something. It was an exchange that Hudson and I were not meant to understand. Frankly, I was more concerned about where we stood now as far as the journals.

  But Edward cleared that up too. "I can guarantee you that Celia is not behind this. And to prove it, we will have the journals flown here from London. They can arrive here by Tuesday. You may come back then. Now, if you don't mind, Celia needs to get some sleep. Our baby will be waking up in about five hours for her feeding, and you are correct, Celia really is a dragon when she hasn't gotten enough sleep."

  "Damn," I said, when we were in the hall and the door was shut behind us. Despite the tension that had played between us all evening, despite my irritation at his behavior inside, I was desperate to discuss what had just happened. "I've never seen Celia kowtow to anyone before. Did you see the way he just looked at her and she bent to his will?"

  "I told you she fell in love," Hudson said grabbing me by the forearm and directing me down the hall, past the elevators.

  "What the fuck are you talking about? Fell in love? That was not love. That was some kind of mind control trick or maybe he has, like, a voodoo spell on her, or maybe he's blackmailing her or something. It's not love. And where are you taking me, anyway?"

  He pushed through a door and pulled us into the stairwell. "Love doesn't always look like love to someone on the outside." He pushed me roughly against the wall, and caged me in. "This probably isn't going to look a lot like love right now, either. Turn around."

  I was so used to doing anything he said, I began to turn in the tight space. "What isn't going to look like love? Why?"

  I heard the sound of his buckle, followed by his zipper. "The way I'm going to fuck you. Because I'm mad at you."

  Sudden warmth spread over my skin, and a fire began low in my belly. God, I loved it when he was like this—dominating, demanding, desperate.

  Except… “Wait. I'm mad at you too." I started to turn back to face him, but he put a firm hand on my back, keeping me in place.

  "Good. You can tell me all about it while my cock’s inside you." He kicked my legs apart.

  I spread them even further. I didn't want to fight him. Not really. Not at all, actually.

  "Well. If you can't figure it out on your own, you were a total asshole to me in there. You should've stood up for me. Instead, you practically defended her." I felt my skirt being lifted, felt his fingers on my crotch panel as he pulled it to the side, clearing a path for him. My heart sped up even as my stomach sank a little, remembering what had just occurred. "You tried to hold me down. Which was demeaning and patronizing and… oh."

  He thrust into me with one bold stroke, completely distracting me from my chain of thought.

  "Are you done?" he asked, sliding out of me, only to return again full force.

  If I had an answer, it was lost to the moan that came out of my lips. Fuck, he felt good and thick and furious.

  "Good. Then I'll tell you why I'm mad at you." He snaked his arm around my waist and dipped it down to my pussy to rub my clit. As soon as his fingers touched the surface of my sensitive bud, my knees buckled and I had to press my forearms against the wall to steady myself.

  "You said you were going to be civil," he said, as he continued to hammer into me, his fingers driving me mad at the same time. "You didn't trust me when I said I didn't think she was the one. You could have lost us the chance at getting access to those journals altogether."

  I could feel an orgasm spiraling through me, whirling like the cyclone in our lives, taking over, forcing me to hold on tighter.

  Somehow I still managed to gather my thoughts enough to say one last thing. "I did get us the journals. Me."

  "And Jesus Christ, I've never thought you were sexier." He brushed his nose against my ear then nibbled, hard. "Put your legs together. Make it tight."

  I brought my thighs together, tightening the space between my legs, my pussy naturally gripping him harder. With his praise and admission of how hard my strength turned him on, along with his expert caresses of my clit and his quick staccato jabs, it was only another minute before I was crying out his name.

  Over and over, my favorite mantra.

  My favorite
prayer.

  "Hudson, Hudson, Hudson," as my limbs shook with pleasure and my vision went dark and spotted with lights.

  He grunted out something incoherent and finished while I was still trembling with the aftershocks.

  I was limp and boneless when he turned me around to claim my mouth, the only reason I was still able to stand because he was holding me so tight. This. This was why he was so perfect. We could fight, and bicker. We could pull and yank at the tension surrounding us, and still he would fight to come back to me.

  And when we came together again, we were always explosive.

  My lips were bruised when he pulled away, or they felt bruised. Swollen, at least. Well kissed. To me, it looked like love.

  I leaned against the wall of the stairwell, and watched him as he pulled himself together, trying to empty my mind, trying to hold onto the post orgasmic haze he'd given me.

  But thoughts will enter as they will, and the realization that hit me suddenly took my breath away.

  "Hudson," I said reaching for him, clutching to him when my hands made contact with his chest. "If it's not Celia, if Celia didn't do this...if she didn't send the letters...if she didn't send the card—it means there is somebody out there who wants to hurt us.

  “And he touched our little girl."

  16

  Hudson

  It was another sleepless night. I’d tossed and turned, unable to get comfortable. Unable to rid my mind of the image of a man, some stranger approaching my child. My precious little girl.

  Alayna and I argued over how to handle Mina's involvement. We both flipped sides so many times, it was impossible to say which of us thought we should talk to her about the man who'd given her the card and which of us wanted to keep her sheltered and not alert her to any fear.

  At one point, Alayna said, "It was probably someone the asshole hired. Not him personally. Probably some nobody who was given the task of passing a birthday invitation out to a particular little girl."

  "And if that's true," I came back, "then that hired delivery man might lead us to our real guy."