Chapter Eight
As I arrived at the club that night, I felt like everyone's eyes were on me. I had barely walked through the door when Monique pulled me aside by the arm.
“Everyone is talking. They've seen it all on the news. Has anyone come to you?”
I shook my head. “No. No cops, no reporters, no one knew I was there. I don't know how you got that detective to keep his mouth shut but thank you.” I felt like I was on pins and needles all week. Anytime someone opened the door in one of my silent midterm halls, I would look up, anticipating handcuffs and a news crew, but it never came. Monique had certainly done her job to keep the lid on my situation.
“Well, good. However, some of the girls are little bit upset. They've known the judge for years. So just give them some space, okay?”
“Sure. Wait, like space meaning I shouldn't be here?”
She looked me up and down. “Girl, please. No one is going to stop you from making any money. Oh, that's right, money. Here's yours. It's just a little something, but it's a preview of what can come. Good luck tonight.” She gave me a white envelope; it felt heavy in my hands. I didn't want to open it in front of all the other girls, so I stepped out into the hallway, and just took a little peek. There was at least a thousand dollars in there… in all hundreds. I hadn't even done anything, and I'd still made a grand. Enough to cover my rent for almost two months. I walked back into the dressing room, and put my money in my bag. I grabbed the black corset and matching ruffled panties off of the rack, and got dressed. A tall blonde walked up behind me.
“Hi, I’m Vivienne. Listen, I'm really sorry about what happened to you last weekend. Some of us have been there before. Though, it doesn't usually happen to the nice guys.” Her voice was like velvet, and I couldn't tell if she was being sincere. But somehow she put some sort of trance over me, and I couldn't look away. She had almost translucent skin and wore deep red lipstick with a shiny blonde bob. She was incredible looking, almost ethereal.
“Oh, thanks. Yeah, it was pretty rough.”
She nodded. “I'm sure it was. I remember when Jimmy got whacked last year; it was terrible. News crews everywhere, cops questioning me for months afterwards…”
I interrupted her. “Months?”
She shrugged. “Well, I mean Jimmy had a bit of the history. And I was with him through a lot of it. I hadn't been to the club in over a year when I came back single.”
“You were with a client?”
She put her finger up to her lips, and smiled devilishly. “We're really not supposed to be, but the Madame made an exception. Jimmy’s crew used to spend a lot of their money here. Of course, a few of the guys were mobsters. But you don't need to worry about any of that; they have their regulars. Girls they can trust. They're definitely not going to flirt with some girl whose last client ended up dead, know what I mean?”
Suddenly, her velvety voice sounded more like poison. She was making sure that I wasn't going to get with any of her clients. “I know exactly what you mean. But I've learned pretty quickly here that the men kind of choose for themselves. Oh, and I'm really sorry about Jimmy.”
I turned around, continued to powder my face, and put on my lipstick. Two could play her game, and I knew exactly how to play it.
Just minutes later, the doors opened, and the girls gracefully walked down the stairs into the club. It wasn't as full tonight; the girls quickly made their matches, and were sitting down in laps, and getting men drinks. I stood near the back wall, unsure of what to do with myself. I had such purpose last week; I picked my mate, and had made the match before I even left the dressing room. But, tonight, I couldn't seem to hone in on anyone. I decided maybe a little liquid courage would help me, and I walked over to the bar, tapping on a couple men’s shoulders as I made my way past. But no one offered me a drink, or even raised a glass to me. By the time I got to the bar, I was feeling completely defeated.
“A glass of wine, please,” I said to the bartender.
“You’re back.” I heard the whisper in my ear as he placed his hand on my lower back.
I turned around and was met with Hudson James's beautiful dark eyes. “I am. Are you surprised?”
He smiled at me, still not releasing his hand from my body. “A little. I thought after your run-in with the police, you might take a few weeks off.”
“Then you don't know the rules as well as you think you do. There are no weeks off.” That was probably a lie, because hell I didn’t even know the rule yet. I paused and took the drink from his hand. It smelled like scotch. I downed the whole glass in just one gulp. “Good choice of drink. I notice you don't have your group of miscreants with you tonight. Flying solo?”
He took the glass back from me, and put it on the bar behind me. “Easier to get your attention when I'm on my own. He took my hand with both of his, and kissed it lightly. “What's it going to take to get you to spend the night with me?”
I smiled. “I don't know that you have that kind of leverage.”
“You haven't even given me the chance to show you what I have in my bag of tricks. Request anything, and I'll make it happen.”
I chewed on my lower lip. I had the distinct feeling that I really could ask for anything, and Hudson could bring it to me in an instant. “I want to go to dinner.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Is that all?”
I nodded. “Dinner with no strings.”
“That’s ballsy. Most girls here would love some strings attached to me.”
“Well, lucky for you, I'm not like most girls.”
He smiled smugly. “No, you're not.” He got close enough to me that I could feel the moisture from his lips on my ear lobe. “Tell me something you've never told anyone else. Then, we go to dinner.”
He was playing a game. One that made my knees weak. I could feel the heat spreading from between my legs. What was it about Hudson?
“I don't have secrets.”
“Everyone has secrets. It's what makes them valuable.”
“Fine. I have a tattoo on the inside of my upper thigh. It's a star.” I tried not to laugh, but the look on his face made it impossible. “I got it when I was sixteen. I thought I was a total badass until I realized that you have a lot of nerve endings at the top of your thigh, especially on the inside. I screamed the entire time it was being done. It's not even colored in, as a result, and I cried every time I did squats for a month. And no one else knows that about me. Your turn.”
“I don’t remember agreeing to tell you something in exchange.”
“And I don't remember accepting your invitation to dinner.”
He put his finger below my chin, and lifted my lips up to just below his, but they didn't touch. I couldn't deny the heat that was rising through my body like I was on fire. He was so devilish, yet bothersome at the same time.
“Fine. I don't have any tattoos. But I also probably didn't go to high school like you did. So, there was no peer pressure to get one. And private tutors frowned upon you leaving class to get something put on your body. Besides, nothing in my world is permanent, and I like it that way.”
“Nothing?”
He shook his head, his hand still under my chin. “Nothing.” We stayed like that for another moment before he released his hand, and tilted his head at me. “Dinner?”
I nodded, mostly because I was intrigued. Something about Hudson James left me reeling every time he walked away. Something about his cocky nature made my skin feel like lava, but as much as I wanted to fight with him and prove him wrong every second of the day, I also wanted him to kiss me, to press his lips against mine, and make me feel something so strong that it would shake me to my core. He was the type of man who could do that. “Dinner. One night.”
He pulled his card out of his breast pocket, and handed it to me. “Go discuss this with the Madame. I'll arrange everything.” He paused. “And don’t make any plans for the rest of the weekend.” He winked, and then abruptly turned and walked away. I stood, awestruck, w
atching his back. Hudson had not only given me his card, but he was taking me to dinner, and possibly away for the weekend, possibly forever. I could just feel the anxious sweat on my brow.
“What about one night?”
“You’ll want to be with me longer than that. I promise you that,” he called over his shoulder. Men and girls alike at the bar stared at me. I felt exposed, standing alone with his card in my shaky hands.
“But no strings attached,” I whispered, knowing that he couldn’t hear me anymore. And maybe I didn’t want him to.
I licked my lips and walked dutifully over to the Madame’s office. I was interested to see what she would have to say about my interaction with Mr. James. There was another girl finishing her session, so I waited outside, and handed my card to the bouncer. He raised an eyebrow at me, clearly impressed at the whale I had bagged, and on only my second night. As the other girl walked out, I walked in, exchanging an awkward glance. It seemed weird to know that other girls were doing regular business, and I was about to go to dinner with Hudson. No sex, just a date. Nothing about that seemed regular.
I gave the card to the Madame. She scanned it, and sat back in her chair, turning it over in her hands.
“Sit, dear. We have things to discuss about this card.”
“What kind of things?”
“A certain person holds this card. Someone who spends more money on his girls and more time here than anyone I've ever met. Please tell me how did you get Hudson James to pay attention to you?”
I gulped. “I don't know. Ever since I’ve been here, he's just seemed interested.”
“You know, he's never given his card to a girl. Not one of mine at least.”
I was perplexed. “But you just said he spends so much money on his girls.”
She nodded. “That I did. He likes to bring in lavish gifts for ladies that he finds attractive. But he's never given his card to anyone. Many nights he comes in here with his buddies, and drinks up the tab that would cost you your rent. But he doesn't take anyone home; he's not that kind of client.”
But he was taking me home. Me. What did that say about our relationship? Or what he wanted out of it.
She started tapping on her computer, and a broad smile crossed her face. “Do you have a passport?”
I nodded. “Yeah, I went to the Bahamas a couple years ago with family. Why?”
The smile didn’t leave her lips. “Because he just booked you a flight for France. His own personal jet will be taking you there, but you'll still have to go through customs when you arrive.”
I was flabbergasted. “France?”
“Yes, a favorite place of his. He owns a little flat there. You're going to have quite the weekend, Ms. Hart. I'm very impressed.”
So was I.
“Can I leave the country? I mean, with the investigation?”
“Oh, dear, you were cleared the second you left the station. They have their murderer; they’ll have to catch us another way.”
“Oh.” What a complete relief.
“Yes, so it’s settled: France!”
I took a deep breath. “France.”
After the formalities were figured out, I was sent upstairs to grab a suitcase that would be packed for me, with clothes appropriate for a weekend getaway to France. I certainly didn't own anything that would be fitting for a trip like this. As I walked out with my Louis Vuitton luggage that didn't belong to me, and slid into a black town car, I looked like a supermodel. This wasn’t my life. It couldn’t be. I whipped out my cell phone to tell Alexis what was going on. I certainly couldn’t stay out all night again without telling her first. She might send out the National Guard this time.
“Oh my God, you cannot even believe what is happening to me right now!”
“What? Are you okay? I swear to God, I told you not to go back there.”
“No, it's nothing like that. One of the clients is taking me away for the weekend. To. France. France, Alexis! Shit like this just doesn't happen to girls like me.”
There was dead silence on the other end of the line. “Alexis? Are you there?”
“Yeah, yeah I'm here. Oh my God, Calla. Are you sure? What if this guy takes you there in his private jet, and then chops you up into little pieces? He could be a freaking serial killer, Calla, you have to be careful.”
I laughed. “Then I will have died in some sort of paradise. But, really, I don't think I have anything to worry about, except if he doesn't like me. I'm not really sure what the rules are about taking someone out of the country, and then leaving them there.”
“I guess someone would come get you, probably not me though. However, a trip to France would be nice.” She laughed lightly before adding, “Girl, you just gotta be careful, okay? Promise me.”
“I promise.”
Chapter Nine
As I arrived at the Boston International Airport, I was guided through security by my own personal TSA liaison. She then took me to a private VIP section where Hudson was waiting for me. He still had on his black suit, and his hands were in his pockets, as he looked out over the tarmac. The woman sat my luggage down, and extended her hands. “Mr. James, Calla Hart is here for you. I hope that you two have an enjoyable trip.”
She smiled sweetly, and then walked away, closing the door behind her. For the first time, I was alone with Hudson James.
“Nice evening to fly. I love traveling in the evenings, not as many prying eyes. People are too busy doing what they do in their own homes at this time of night.”
He turned and looked at me. The girls had put me in a short navy dress with pockets in the front, and a sash around the waist. My hair was lying gracefully around my shoulders. I had on red lipstick, and I felt I looked like I just walked out of some sort of movie from the 1940s. All I needed was a hat to complete the look.
“Yes, it's really beautiful.” I had no idea what to say. Was the tarmac beautiful? No. But I didn't have any other mundane conversation to bring up.
“You look fantastic. Do you fly often? I know small planes can be a burden to some people. My pilot is one of the best. I'm sure it will be a smooth trip.”
“Truth is, I've only flown a couple times. I went to the Bahamas with my family a couple years ago, but I haven’t been on a plane since. And certainly not a private plane.” Suddenly, I was telling him real pieces of information about myself. First, the tattoo, and now about my family. And I been so good at hiding the truth, and displaying perfect confidence before, but being here in the real world, suddenly I felt like I couldn't maintain the façade. And it didn't seem like he wanted to try either. He walked over to me, took one finger, and dragged it slowly down my exposed arm.
“Are you scared?”
I gulped. “Should I be?”
“Maybe. I've never done this before either.” He moved away. “Typically, I travel alone, and for business. I don't know the last time I took a vacation. And I don't know that I've ever taken a vacation with someone else.”
“Not even your family?”
He looked back out over the tarmac where the lights are just starting to come on in the night. “I don't have one of those. Definitely not like yours anyway.”
“Every family is different. It doesn't make them good or bad, just the way they are.” My family had their fair share of issues, but when my dad got remarried, his new wife was pretty awesome. She really took care of my younger brother, and I visited them pretty often. She was the one who had booked the Bahamas trip, claiming that a good old family vacation would really bring us together. That was when they got married. It was the last time I'd been anywhere. And even after they got married and became their own little unit, they tried to help me. But I was my mother’s daughter, a bit of a mess, and couldn’t accept their help. I felt the need to do it on my own. And, somehow, how I ended up here. Getting on a private plane with a millionaire. Unbelievable.
He smiled. “You’re right. I guess they are.”
“So, where are yours?”
&nbs
p; He sat down in a leather chair near the window. “My father is a business man, my mother a trophy wife. They live in a brownstone in New York with my younger sister.”
“Do you see them often?”
He shook his head. “It’s been five years since I’ve made it home for Christmas.”
I sighed. He had demons. We all did. Ostracizing his family certainly wasn’t going to help, but it wasn’t my place to say. It was my place to make sure he had a fabulous evening. Time to lighten the mood.
“So, what is the deal? We’re going to France for dinner?”
He looked me up and down. “The deal is, you asked for dinner, so I’m giving that to you. I love French cuisine, and I thought you might enjoy it, too.”
“I’d be willing to try it.”
Suddenly, there was a rap at the door. The TSA liaison entered again. “Your plane is ready for takeoff. I’ve brought someone to take your bags.”
Hudson nodded. “Thank you.”
We boarded the small plane, and took our seats. A stewardess offered us drinks while we waited to get off the tarmac. I was still in shock that I was on a plane. On a plane with a man I hardly knew.
“Thank you for the drinks, but I would prefer to be alone with my date.” Hudson spoke pointedly to the stewardess.
He wasn’t cold to her, just professional. Not at all like he treated me. He was different with me, relaxed, or at least less standoffish than he was to other people. I still couldn’t help but wonder, why me?
She nodded and kept her head down as she left the cabin. I sat on the edge of my seat, a white leather recliner, and sipped on a bottle of water. I was nervous, so much that it showed.
“You’re not comfortable. How can we rectify that?”
I tried to play it off, like he wasn't right, even though we both knew that he was. “I'm fine, really. I just haven't flown in a while, makes me a little nervous.”
“I can give you a little something to take the edge off. I mean, I figured we would sleep through most of the flight anyway.”
Filthy Boss: An Office Romance Page 14
