Page 68 of Her Royal Treatment


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“You don’t need to worry about that, Ma. This mission’s shaping up to be a cakewalk.” I hated lying but I didn’t want to worry her.

“You always say that Hudson. Maybe you’re telling me the truth some of the time, but I refuse to believe that your job is as easy as you make it sound like.”

“It is when you’re as good as I am.”

Ma scoffed, waving her hand. “Cocky boy. That arrogance is going to get a bullet in your arse one of these days.”

I dismissed the comment. “I can’t tell you who we’re watching, but she’s a VIP.”

“She, eh?” Ma’s eyes glimmered with mischief. “Not going to put too fine of a point on it, but I don’t think I’d mind one bit if you came away with a paydayanda daughter-in-law at the end of it.”

I laughed, my face going hot. I knew I was blushing, which made me glad I had a beard to hide it.

“Ma, it’s not like that. We’re professionals, so I’m telling you right now that you’re going to have to be happy with just the money.”

“I’ll be happy when you’re home,” she said. “Wife or no. But who is this woman? You know I live for the gossip.”

I wanted to tell her all about Vic. But what was there to say? I’d had a fling with a princess and there was no sign it’d be anything more than that? Ma and I were close, but there wasn’t a chance in hell I’d be putting it to her in quite such terms.

“I’ll be sure to give you all the details when the job’s done. Speaking of which, I’m thinking that when we’re all wrapped up here, I might come visit you for a spell.”

“You know I’d love that. But let’s not put the cart before the horse, aye? I want all of your head focused on being safe.”

“Understood.” I checked my watch. “Listen, that’s about all the time I can spend on the phone today. But I’ll be sure to give you another call before too long, alright?”

“You’d better, boy, you know how I worry about you. And try to make a little something happen with that VIP of yours. Lord knows I could use a grandkid or two around the house.”

I laughed. “Don’t get your hopes up.”

We said our goodbyes and I love you’s and that was the end of the call. I felt damn good as I slipped my phone back into my pocket and headed out the door, ready for some fresh air. It was early afternoon, and I was eager to not be cooped up in the house all day. I went for a short run, lapping the block a few times since I didn’t know the neighborhood.

Once I got back to the house, I washed up and headed into the kitchen. Kid was there reading, Pyke at the table next to him going over some intel. Part of me wanted to talk to Pyke about his plans for his time in the city. I knew his boy was here, and to be honest, I was a bit surprised that he hadn’t said anything about stopping in to give him a visit.

Then again, maybe it wasn’t so surprising. Pyke had never been one to wear his feelings on his sleeve. Not to mention that the subject of his boy was a rough one. I decided to let him be, to not press the issue too hard.

“Where’s Vic?” I asked.

“Backyard, doing some yoga.” Kid said. He raised his arm to point toward a pitcher on the counter—a good sign; it meant his shoulder was on the mend. “She made some damn good lemonade.”

I poured myself two glasses and headed outside. Sure enough, Vic was there. She was in the center of the backyard, a yoga mat underneath her as she stretched her lovely body backward. Normally, I wouldn’t have been all that happy to see her out in the open like this. But the fences separating the yard from the others were high allowing for adequate privacy.

She slowly, gracefully, brought her curvy body back to a standing position, then turned to me.

“One of those is mine, I hope,” she said with a smile.

I raised the one in my left hand. “Figured you could use a post-yoga cooldown, lass.”

She smiled, coming over to me and taking the glass from my hand. It was good and warm out, so she wasted no time holding the glass to her forehead before taking a sip.

“Damn, that’s good—if I do say so myself.”

I gestured to the bench against the house and we both sat down. I’d been doing my best to keep myself in check, but it was impossible to not notice the way her skin glistened with sweat. It reminded me of our time together, of how she’d looked after we had sex, sweaty and panting and naked next to me.

We hadn’t said a word to one another about the sex since. Fine with me—if it was a one-off thing, I’d be OK with that.

“You know, we’d make pretty good Yanks, I think,” I said.

“Yeah? How do you figure?”

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