Wasted (Dirty Boys of Chicago #1)

by Morgan Black

  “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.

  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 Five

  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?”

  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?”r />
  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.”

  Sleep? Like I was going to get any of that. Maybe I should take him up on his offer, so that by the time we arrived in France in the morning, I would be bright eyed instead of a zombie like I was planning. “Will you be taking something?”

  “That depends.”

  “On what?”

  “On whether you do or not. I’m certainly not going to make you sit here all by yourself for an eight-hour flight. Not when we can both stay up and,” he paused. “Talk.”

  I smiled. “Talk. Is that all you want to do?”

  “We said no strings. I'm fine with that. If all I get out of this weekend is dinner, then that's all I get.”

  Somehow, I didn't believe that that's all he was going to get. Hudson just didn't seem like the type of guy who only took a woman to dinner. He was in it for more. Deep inside me, I wanted him to be.

  “Well, actually, I could definitely use some sleep. And eight hours is an awfully long time.”

  He stood up, and offered me his hand. I kept my water, but obliged. He walked me towards the back of the cabin, and pulled a curtain back to reveal a first-class recliner that laid out into bed. “Then you stay back here, and I'll be in the front if you need anything.”

  I sat down in the chair, and set my head back to rest. I was about to take my final sip of water when I opened my eyes, and saw his hand in front of me. There was a little white pill in the middle. “Just a little something for the nerves. I promise it’s legal.”

  I took the pill from his hands, and under his watchful eyes, I put it in my mouth, and pushed it down with the water. I watched him walk away in his black suit, and then everything seemed to go fuzzy and dark.

  Chapter Six

  “Miss. Miss, we've arrived. Mr. James is ready to depart.”

  The stewardess shook me awake. I could hardly remember where I was; it was the best sleep I've ever had in my life. Visions of Hudson swirled around in my head, but besides that, it had been a dreamless sleep. I tried to figure out what he'd given me, but, somehow, it didn't matter. “I'm sorry. Where are we?”

  The stewardess smiled kindly. “We’re in the South of France. You'll be headed to Mr. James’s chalet shortly. He's already left on a quick business meeting, and then he'll meet you there.”

  I shook my head trying to clear it. “He left me on a plane?”

  She pursed her lips. “Kind of. I've been flying with Mr. James for quite some time, and this is the first time he's ever had another traveler with him. I don't think he really knows the etiquette.”

  She extended her hand, and helped me out of the chair. I rubbed my eyes, and I could hardly imagine what my hair looked like. I asked for a mirror, and she brought it to me. Just as I expected: total bed head. “Is there any way I can get my brush? Something to freshen up?”

  She looked a little distraught. “I'm sorry, Miss, but all of your belongings are already in the town car waiting for you on the tarmac. You'll have plenty of time to get ready at the chalet before Mr. James joins you.”

  Joins me. Cool, so I’m in the South of France by myself. I wasn't sure I liked being Hudson's call girl anymore. I was just another one of his belongings.

  “Thank you so much. I guess I'll be going.”

  I followed her to the steps, and then I walked down them by myself. There was a chauffeur with a black town car waiting for me, and after I was inside, I felt like I could breathe for the first time since being whisked away. I was alone with my thoughts; it was just what I needed. I sent a quick text to Alexis, telling her that I landed. I knew the fee would be astronomical, but somehow, money didn't seem to be a concern right now. I placed my hand on the leather seat, and moved it back and forth over the smooth fabric. I'd never been in a town car this nice before, not even at the club.

  I put down the window, and took a whiff of the salty air as we passed by the ocean. I wanted to ask the driver to stop so I could go walk on the beach, but I knew that I had a job to do, so I continued on our drive to Hudson’s chalet. We drove for over half an hour up and down cobbled streets until we reached the top of the hill at the end of a windy lane. Finally, I saw a small cottage. Not ostentatious like I thought it would be. There was a curved door and beautiful roses on either side. The garden was overgrown, but in a planned way that led you to believe you were in some sort of fairytale. Hudson had made it this way; he wanted me to feel like a princess.

  The driver let me out, and then carried my bags up to the door. I didn't know whether to knock or to just walk in; after all, I was still a guest. But, just as I raised my hand to the old wooden door, it magically opened on its own, and there stood a statuesque-looking butler in a tux. It was like a dream.

  “Miss Hart, I presume?”

  “Yes, that's me.”

  “I'm glad to see that you've arrived safely. And this is your luggage?”

  I looked at the Louis Vuitton behind me. “It's mine.”

  “Wonderful. Mr. James will be pleased to hear that you've arrived. I will phone him at once.”

  I nodded. “Do you know when he'll be back?”

  “I'm afraid not for a few hours. He had some important matters to discuss with a client.”

  So he wasn't just taking me to dinner; this was a business trip. It was probably already planned when he decided that he was going to take me along. So much for a vacation.

  The butler stepped to the side, and extended his hand. I stepped up into the main foyer. The floor was tiled with deep blue and white inlay, and the walls were all a creamy color, like vanilla. It was breathtaking; I looked to the middle of the room where a spiral staircase ascended into, what I could only assume was, the second story. “This is like something out of a magazine! And Mr. James live here?”

  The butler shook his head. “No, this is one of his three vacation homes. He always stays here when he does business in France, but typically at this time of year, we’re in the New York or Boston office.”

  “So, you travel with him, then?”

  “Yes, Miss, I've been with Mr. James since he was a boy.”

  “Maybe you can tell me some things about him. He doesn't seem to like to talk about himself very much.”


  “I'm afraid that's not my place, Miss. Now, if you'll follow me, I’ll take you to your bedroom, and I'll send some tea up while you get ready for your dinner this evening. Mr. James has left a dress for you in the closet.”

  “He picked out my clothes?”

  He started to walk up the stairs with my bags, and I followed him. “Of course. How would you know how to dress in a place you've never been? I’m sure the dress will be to your liking.”

  As I looked at the art on the walls, I had to think that he was probably right. Beautiful impressionist images filled the hallway. I figured they were probably the inspiration for the home.

  We entered a bedroom that was no bigger than mine at home, but it had French doors that opened up to a balcony that overlooked the ocean. The doors were already opened, and the curtains were blowing in the breeze. I could smell the salt air wafting in. There was a large canopy bed in the middle of the room with netting hanging on all sides. They were tied back for the day, but I wondered if I would need them at night. The butler set down my luggage, nodded, and then left.

  I opened up the wardrobe that was next to the French doors as soon as I was sure he was gone. In it was a single dress; a halter top with white liquid beads the whole way down the front, but practically backless. It was heavy as hell, but it was absolutely stunning. The butler had been right about Mr. James's taste.

  I looked around the room again. It was magnificent, but I was still alone. Hudson had left me here. He had treated me like property, and I hated him for it. All I wanted was for him to treat me like someone he cared about. But somehow, I knew that wasn’t the arrangement, and I told myself I’d have to suck it up.