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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.
As long as he didn’t do it again.
Chapter Eleven
I'd been getting ready for hours when I heard the butler announce Hudson?
?s arrival. I sat on the edge of the bed with my hair pulled back around the nape of my neck, and I waited for him to call for me or send someone. But he didn't. Finally, I got brave enough to go downstairs on my own. Hunger got the best of me mostly.
He stood in the middle of the foyer, with his hands crossed in front of him and a single white rose. Of course, it matched my dress. He had on a full tuxedo, and I tried to breathe as I took my steps carefully to the stairs.
But, as he stood there, I realized why I was coming down on my own. Hudson liked a grand entrance, and me walking down the stairs with the light shining off of every bead on my body gave him exactly that. As I reached the bottom of the stairs, he walked over to me and extended his arm, whispering in my ear, “You look exactly like I thought you would.”
I looked at him. “What does that mean?”
“Breathtaking.”
And just like that, I was speechless.
Hudson held the door open for me as he entered the town car, and we drove in silence until we reached the restaurant, overlooking the ocean. It was enclosed in glass, so the evening air didn't bother us. The view was practically unimaginable, with the waves crashing below. I had never seen anything like it. But, just as I was falling into my own mind, Hudson brought me right back out.
“So, what do you think of the weather?”
I smiled at him. “You're going asking about the weather? Really?”
“I thought I got to ask you anything I wanted.”
“I mean you just took me halfway around the world to this beautiful place, and you want to talk about the weather. You’re a mystery to me.”
“I feel the same way about you.”
“So, what about this being a vacation?” I asked, as I placed a white napkin on my lap, and the waiter poured me a glass of red wine.
He squinted at me. “What do you mean?”
