“You,” I gasp. “Both of you. Now.”
Hudson’s finger teases the tight bud of my ass, and I inhale sharply. Asher fucks me with deep, steady strokes. Every time he plunges into me, my ass is pushed onto Hudson’s dick and from the harshness of his breathing, he likes it.
My pussy clenches and spasms against Asher’s cock. “I can’t hold on,” I whimper. It’s too much. “I’m going to come.”
“Not yet,” Hudson orders. He grabs a handful of my hair and yanks my head back. “You don’t come until we give you permission, you understand?”
“I’m too close,” I gasp out. Hudson’s thumb is rubbing over my clitoris, and Asher’s dick pounds into me, and my pussy feels so swollen that I don’t think I can hold back my orgasm for another second.
“Now,” Asher orders, slamming into me, his face contorted with desire. “Come for us now.”
I let myself fall off the edge with a sob, Asher only a half-thrust behind. I collapse on the floor, leaning against Hudson’s tightly muscled chest. “Your turn now?” I ask him, stroking his thick cock.
He grins, and he kisses the back of my neck. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Three hours later, we’re finally done. “You don’t have to leave,” Hudson says to me as I button up my coat. There’s a slight smile on his lips, but his eyes are serious. “You could spend the night.”
“I’ll make you pancakes in the morning,” Asher adds. He doesn’t look at me as he makes the offer, and I get the sense he doesn’t mean it. He’s probably exhausted from his flight. “With chocolate chips, if you like.”
“Oh, that’s a low blow. You know I’m a chocolate fiend.” It’s an appealing offer. I’d love to wake up between them, pressed against their hard bodies. I want to shower with them in the morning, and maybe sneak in a quickie before we run off for work. But it’s just casual, this thing between us. We’ve been together for less than three weeks. It’s too much, too soon. Perhaps if we survive the one-month mark.
“Tempting though it is, I’m going to pass,” I decline, keeping my voice light. “I snore, and I’ll keep you up all night.”
I hug them both before I leave. Hudson clasps me against his body, his touch warm and lingering, but Asher’s hug is almost perfunctory, and I’m not the only one that notices. Hudson’s eyebrow rises as he takes in Asher’s stiffness.
He’s just jet-lagged, I tell myself. I decline their offer to drive me home, and hail a cab instead, but as I lean back in the taxi and close my eyes, I can’t shake off a feeling that something is seriously wrong.
18
We are afraid to care too much, for fear that the other person does not care at all.
Eleanor Roosevelt
Hudson:
Once she leaves, I turn to Asher. He’s acting a little weird. “What’s the matter with you?” I ask.
In reply, he pulls an envelope out of his laptop bag and hands it to me. “This.”
My heart beats faster as I look at the photos. My hands tremble as I read the note. I’m silent for a long time, then I lift my head up and look at my friend. “Are you going to give up?”
Poor choice of words. “Give up?” Asher explodes. “You think I’m giving up? Fuck you, Hudson.” He jumps to his feet, pacing in front of the window. “Read the note. ‘Remember Lauren?’ Thorne’s figured out who I am and he’s figured out the best way to attack.” He takes a deep breath and calms himself. “I can’t let history repeat itself,” he says quietly. “I can’t let what happened to Lauren happen to Wendy.”
“I don’t want that to happen either,” I respond, “but Wendy is a grown woman. I don’t think you should make this decision for her. Show her the note. Thorne’s obviously trying to pull us apart—let’s not walk into his trap. We should work together to beat him.”
“You don’t think that it occurred to me to show this to Wendy?” Asher glares at me. “Tell me, Hudson, what do you think is going to happen if Wendy finds out? Do you think she’s going to quit the Staten Island Project?”
Damn it. Wendy’s not a quitter. Thorne’s thrown down the gauntlet—Wendy won’t walk away. “She’s going to fight harder.”
He nods. “Exactly. And Thorne’s not going to fight fair. There’s too much money on the line. The situation is just going to escalate until someone gets hurt.”
I go cold at the thought of physical harm befalling Wendy. It’s been three short weeks, but already, she’s more important to me than my ex-wife ever was. On the surface, she’s sarcastic and funny, but that’s a mask, her way of protecting herself from being hurt. Scratch the surface, and there’s sweetness underneath, a sweetness mixed with a fiery passion that makes her irresistible.
I wanted her to stay with us. I wanted to spend the entire night with her curled up between Asher and me, and I wanted to watch her wake up in the morning. Fuck, I even wanted to make her breakfast.
It had taken effort to play it cool, to hug her goodbye and watch her leave. Had I known it was the last time, I’d have held on tighter. I’d have put my pride aside and begged her to stay with me.
“I don’t want to quit this project.”
“You think I do?” Asher’s hands ball into fists. His voice is tight with frustration. “You think I haven’t been searching for any way out?” He sinks onto the couch and gazes blankly at the wall. “When Lauren killed herself,” he says, so quietly that I can barely hear him, “my world shattered. It took months before I could function, years before I could think of her without pain. I’d see someone with red hair on the street and my heart would beat faster.” He lifts his head up and stares at me. “My infatuation with Lauren was one-sided,” he says flatly. “And it still broke me. With Wendy…” His voice trails off. “What we have is real. If something happens to her, I don’t think I’d be able to live with the guilt.”
The anguish in his tone distracts me from my own misery. “So we let Thorne get away with blackmail?”
“No.” The look on Asher’s face chills me. “Thorne Hancock is not getting away with anything. I let him win once. That won’t happen again.”
“What are you planning to do?” Asher sounds as if he has a plan, or at least the beginnings of one.
“We need something on Thorne,” he replies. “Jeff Choi hinted that Thorne cooked the books in our first meeting with him, remember?”
I nod. I’d been hopeful that we’d uncover something criminal on Thorne, but unfortunately, that trail had led nowhere. “You looked into it and couldn’t find any evidence to back Jeff up,” I respond.
“Yes, but what if I was wrong? I’m not an expert on financial fraud. Stone Bradley is a competent investigator, but this is beyond his skill set. We need someone who specializes in this kind of thing. Someone we can trust.”
The memory hits me like a thunderbolt from the sky. “What about her friend Miki?” I ask. “Wendy mentioned her when she was talking about the Lippman divorce, remember? She said Miki was responsible for finding the money he’d hidden away.”
His expression brightens. “Hudson, you’re a genius. Do you know Miki’s last name?”
I search my memories, but I draw a blank. “We can ask Wendy.”
“I’ll get Stone to find it for us,” he replies grimly. “Once we walk away from Wendy’s project, I’ll be shocked if she wants to talk to us again.”
He’s right. Wendy’s going to believe that we betrayed her, and our fledgling relationship won’t survive. I can only hope that one day, we will be able to tell her the whole truth, and she’ll find it in her heart to forgive us.
The next morning, I pull Nadja aside and explain what I need her to do.
I have a bad feeling in my gut. All night, I’ve been thinking about Thorne’s blackmail attempt. Yes, Stone Bradley’s men are watching Wendy, but because she doesn’t know about her bodyguards, they can’t be with her twenty-four seven. I’ve poured over the news articles on Jean Nakashima’s death. From all accounts, she was an expert sailor. She was in her college sailing te
To keep Wendy safe, we need to sever ties with her. For good.
“I don’t like it,” my second in command says once she’s heard me out.
“Please, Nadja. I really need your help.”
She gives me an unreadable look. In the last three weeks, we’ve been treading carefully around each other, avoiding talk of anything other than work. She still hasn’t forgiven me for taking on Staten Island. This discussion is about the longest conversation we’ve had on a topic that isn’t work. “Fine,” she agrees at last. “But I think you’re making a mistake.”
I get to Hancock Construction at half-past eleven. Walking in, I see Amanda chatting with another assistant, Lucy. Good. Amanda is a nosy gossip, and we need witnesses for what we’ve planned. The more, the better.
There’s a hot ball of shame in my throat. I like Wendy. What the two of us are planning to do will devastate her. She doesn’t have a high opinion of men because of her mother’s history with her father. She’s just beginning to trust us, and we’re going to let her down.
“Hey, Hudson.” Wendy looks up as I walk in. Her face is pinched, her expression drawn. My heart immediately lurches with concern.
“Are you okay?” I ask her.
“I think I have the flu,” she admits. “I’ve been sick all morning.”
“You should have taken the day off.”
She rolls her eyes. “That’s not feasible,” she says. “I have meetings all afternoon. Jeff Choi thinks we’re spending too much money; Brad Pankratz thinks he should get paid more, and Bill Anderson wants a status update.” She smiles at me. “I’m counting on your ability to haggle with Brad to keep us on track.”
“Right.”
Asher walks into the room at that moment, looking grim. “Wendy,” he says without preamble. “We need to talk to you.”
She looks at Asher’s face, then at mine, and her smile fades. “What’s going on?” she asks quietly.
I feel like scum. “We’re quitting the Staten Island project.” My voice comes out louder than I intended. Outside the open door, Amanda’s conversation with Lucy trails off as she tries to listen to us.
Her face turns white. “You are?”
One quick tug, just like a band-aid, I tell myself. It’ll hurt less this way.
“Yes,” Asher confirms. He smiles at her tightly. “And I think it’s best that we don’t see each other anymore. No hard feelings, okay?”
Nadja makes her appearance at that moment, her timing impeccable. Exactly the way I’ve planned it. “Hey you two,” she greets us, fluttering her eyelashes at Asher and lacing her arm in mine. “I got tired of waiting downstairs. I thought you said this would only take a minute.”
“Sorry, Nadja.” I kiss her cheek affectionately. “We’re almost done here.”
For an instant, there’s a flash of pain in Wendy’s eyes, and then her face hardens. “I’m afraid I delayed them,” she says, her voice cool and polite. “It won’t happen again.” Her lips lift in a bitter smile. “Just casual, right? Have a nice life, guys.”
Just like that, it’s over.
Amanda watches us leave, her mouth hanging open. Lucy’s eyes are wide with shock. This is necessary, I repeat to myself, trying to convince myself of the truth of my words. We have to keep Wendy safe. But I can’t get Wendy’s stricken expression out of my mind.
19
In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: it goes on.
Robert Frost
Wendy:
Three hours later, I’m still reeling. I’ve been trying not to think about Asher and Hudson, but my mind keeps circling back to them. And I grow angrier and angrier.
Last night, they’d put on the act of a lifetime. They’d pretended they wanted me. Hudson had even asked me to spend the night, and I’d come so close to agreeing. And to think, they were seeing someone else at the same time. They had to be—there was too much familiarity in the way the dark-haired woman had greeted them. It was obvious that she knew them well.
There’s a sick pit in my stomach, and it’s not because of the damn bug. Everything was a lie—their willingness to help me, their spiel about how they didn’t date more than one woman at once.
My phone rings and I pick it up. It’s Miki. “Do you have a minute?” she asks.
I frown when I hear her voice. She sounds like she’s been crying. The last time I talked to her, she hadn’t sounded happy either. “For you, anytime,” I reply immediately. “Is everything alright?”
“No,” she confesses. “I might as well tell you. Everyone’s going to know soon enough anyway. Aaron’s been working long hours. Friday evening, I thought I might surprise him at work and drag him away to watch a movie.” Her voice trembles. “When I walked in, his secretary was giving him a blowjob.”
“Oh, Miki.” I forget about Asher and Hudson’s betrayal in the face of Miki’s troubles. If Aaron were here, I’d fucking Bobbit the asshole. Miki moved to Texas for this jerk. They’ve only been married for a year. “That sucks.”
“Yeah, it does,” she says bleakly. “All week, I’ve been trying to figure out if my marriage is worth saving.”
Leave him, I want to shout, but this isn’t my decision to make. “What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know,” she says bleakly. “Enough about me. I’m still looking through Hancock Construction’s books, but it’s tough going.”
“That’s okay,” I reply tonelessly. The mention of Hancock Construction reminds me of this morning’s events. “It’s not urgent.”
Her voice sharpens. “What’s wrong with you?” she demands. “You sound awful.”
I blink my eyelashes rapidly, trying to hold back the tears that threaten to overflow. “Nothing,” I say, but the shakiness of my reply gives me away.
“Don’t lie to me, Wendy,” she says at once. “Is it work? You’re driving yourself to the point of exhaustion.”
“I think I’m falling sick,” I admit, “but that’s not the problem.” I tell her about Hudson and Asher. “I thought they were different,” I whisper, “but I’m the stupidest person on earth. They totally played me, and I don’t even know why.” My tears spill over my cheeks. “They didn’t have to pretend to care. I’d have slept with them anyway.”
Miki swears into the phone. “The fuckers,” she snarls. “Wendy, don’t cry. They’re two jerks who don’t deserve you. You’re better off without them.”
“I’m not crying,” I lie, wiping my cheeks with the back of my hand. “I just don’t know how I’m going to manage; that’s all. I have to find a new architect and a new lawyer.” I take a deep breath. “I don’t get it, Miki,” I confess. “We made no promises to each other.” My heart hurts as I say those words, but it’s the truth. “If they wanted to sleep with someone else, all they had to do was say so. Why did they quit the project?”
Amanda pokes her head into my office at that moment, holding a cup of coffee. “Wendy,” she says, sounding forcedly cheerful, “I needed a coffee break. You like caramel lattes, don’t you?” She steps into the room and notices I’m on the phone. “Sorry,” she mouths.
It’s a kind gesture. I reach for the steaming beverage, but as soon as the smell of the caffeine wafts over me, my stomach roils, and I’m overtaken by a wave of nausea. “Thank you,” I mumble, trying not to breathe in the warm-caramel smell of the latte. What the heck is wrong with me?
Mouthing another apology for interrupting me, she leaves, shutting the door behind her. I resume my conversation with Miki, struggling not to throw up all over my desk. This bug is getting worse, not better. “God, I wish this stomach bug would go away. I don’t have time to be sick right now.”
“Is your stomach still bothering you? Wendy, you’ve been fighting this thing for two weeks. Go to a doctor.”
“I don’t have time for that.” There’s too much to do here, especially with Hudson and Asher’s departure.
“Do you have time to listen to me nag?” she asks pointedly. “Because I will. What’s more, I’ll call the others. Do you want to get Gabby mad at you? Or have Piper smile sweetly while marching you off to bed?”
Hell no. “I’ll call the doctor this week,” I say meekly.
“Today. Right after we hang up.”
My doctor has an unexpected opening on her schedule, so at five, I make my way to her office. Once I check in, I barely have time to flip through the selection of magazines before a nurse calls my name. “Wendy Williams?”
I rise to my feet and follow her into a quiet examining room. She takes my blood pressure and jots the readings on a screen, then she leaves. I perch on the chair next to the examining table and play Angry Birds on my phone until Dr. Dittmar bustles in.
“Hello, Wendy,” she greets me warmly. “How are you today?”
“I have a lingering stomach bug,” I reply. “I’ve been throwing up a lot in the last two weeks. It’s probably stress.”
“Hmm.” The doctor finishes reading my chart and turns to me. “I noticed you’re a month overdue on your birth-control shot. Is there any chance you could be pregnant?”
My blood runs cold. I feel the color drain from my cheeks, and I shiver instinctively. “No,” I reply automatically. It can’t be true. “They…” I bite back the sentence I was going to utter. They used condoms. I don’t want my doctor judging me for my threesome. “We used condoms,” I say instead.
“Condoms aren’t foolproof,” she replies. She opens a drawer and pulls out a syringe. “Before I write you a prescription for your stomach, I’m going to do a blood test as a precaution, okay?”
“Sure.”
She quickly draws blood. “It’ll take ten minutes to analyze the sample. I’ll be back as soon as I have your results.”
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