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I look up, startled by a tug on my hand. One of the governor’s sons takes my hand and places it on his arm and leads me forward up the museum steps. “I’m Hudson,” he subtly dips to whisper.
I speak out of the corner of my mouth, keeping my smile soft for photographers, “Effie. But you must already know that.”
Turns out that enduring a dinner of dry chicken and overcooked carrots, followed by speeches on the intersection of golf and dressage, is actually much easier in Hudson’s company. He has a dry sense of humor but a lightness to him that is refreshing. He has that sweet all-American charm that isn’t intimidating and has been nothing but respectful all night. Almost making me forget that all of this is a pre-arranged destiny.
I sour at the thought. Will I ever have something good and true? Or will everything always be constructed and form-fit into what best serves the family?
As if Hudson can sense my shift in mood, he sweeps his auburn hair back with a hand and rests his arm over the back of my chair. “Listen, I know our families are who they are, but that doesn’t mean we have to rush into anything.” He lowers his hand onto mine resting on the table.
“I want to take things slow, get to know each other.” He laughs. “You know, actually date the person I’m going to marry.”
My chest squeezes, realizing how real this is quickly becoming. I try to blow off the serious tone. “Oh, so we’re not meeting at the chapel tomorrow morning?”
“If only I’d be so lucky. You’re drop dead gorgeous, Effie.” His warm blue eyes melt into mine, and I feel he’s being truly genuine. Maybe he really is just a good guy in a bad world.
“How about we start with a dance? Then we can talk about whether you prefer a spring or autumn wedding.” He nods to the speaker podium that has been replaced by a DJ booth, and the people starting to trickle on to the dance floor.
I take his proffered hand, catching our fathers give one another approving looks. He sweeps me close to his body, and I’m surprised how comfortable it feels. We’re still an appropriate distance, but I can feel his body heat and smell is masculine aftershave.
He twirls me around and I giggle, feeling light and…happy. “How about we just elope on some tropical island?” I tease when he catches me again.
He laughs and dips me low. “You know our families would kill us both if they didn’t get to choreograph our wedding for the most political gain.”
The smart aleck reply on the tip of my tongue is shut down when I lock eyes with someone across the room. Dark, dangerous and green eyes I’d recognize anywhere.
Finn’s leaning against a back wall, dressed handsomely in a classic tux, his dark hair is combed smartly out of his face, showing off the sharp angles of his cheeks and jaw. I can make out his knuckle tattoos while he takes a sip from a whiskey glass.Can’t hide.
It certainly feels that way. Especially as his gaze locks with mine, tracking every movement I make. He smirks, eyes dark, and spite flares inside me. I drape an arm around Hudson’s neck and pull him closer, watching Finn over his shoulder. Hudson reacts warmly of course, placing a hand on my waist and swaying to the music.
Finn’s jaw clenches and his lips press into a firm line as I whisper in Hudson’s ear, keeping my eyes fixed on his. I’m only saying I like the song, but with the sultry look I’m sporting, I hope Finn thinks it’s something much more scandalous.
He tips back his drink and finishes it, slamming the cup down on a table beside him. It’s a thrill, goading him. And I don’t plan on stopping.
I feel Hudson’s hand slink to the small of my back, and I rotate us so Finn can catch the movement. His hand dips lower over the top of my ass. Heat licks my spine, and I know it’s Finn’s gaze burning into my back.Let him burn.
“I’m going to get a drink. Would you like anything?” he pulls away and asks.
“No, I’m good, thank you.” We step off the dance floor, and he heads toward the bar. I look around but don’t see Finn. I try not to inspect too closely at the wave of disappointment I feel at his absence.
Hudson shoots me a small wave from the bar while he waits. He smiles, and I scan his face looking for a hint of…something, I’m not sure what. He has a strong jawline and a sweet dimple on one side. He’s clean cut and good looking but not playboy handsome. Many women would be delighted to have a husband like him.
“Princess,” I hear roughly behind me and spin, coming face to face with Finn. The second I do, I realize what I was looking for in Hudson: darkness, hunger, ruthlessness. And I see them all staring back at me now.
“The fuck do you want?” I hiss as I see Hudson leaving the bar, drinks in hand. He only looks at me smugly and tongues his cheek.I hate him.
He ignores me and holds out his hand to Hudson who’s just walked up. “Hi, I’m Finn—”
“Finneas Fox. Yes, I know who you are.”
“Oh? And you are?” My jaw drops at his flippant reply knowing he damn well knows the answer.
“Hudson Campbell.” His previous friendly tone is gone. “So, how do you know my fiancée?” I swallow deeply, stunned. So much for taking things slow. If I didn’t know him so well, I’d think Finn was totally unfazed by the bomb just dropped, but there’s a split second when his eyes flared, nostrils widened and then like shutters on a window, he closes every single emotion down.
“Old family friends.” His gaze flicks to me and the corner of his mouth tugs up subtly. “Though we recentlyreconnected.”My face burns hot, and I am suddenly regretting not getting another drink.
Despite the death glare I shoot him, he continues, “She did some portraits for me. She’s a very talented photographer, have you seen her photos?” My stomach roils, and I try to read any suspicion on Hudson’s face, but he seems not to notice anything off.
Though I get the message loud and clear.
