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A man stands up on the stage followed by several other people and he holds the microphone away before clearing his throat and glancing at the crowd.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Thank you for joining us on the Cassiopeia. My pride and joy. Tonight is a course for celebration because tonight is the Twenty-third Annual Charity Ball and I am honoured that my family has been nominated as its hosts this year,” the man says. “And so tonight, I will let my son have the honour of commencing the first donation of the evening.”
The man steps aside as someone walks out from behind him and immediately I hear myself gasp as Hudson comes forward.
Hudson. As in Hudson Saylor-Tyne. I can barely believe my eyes for a second as I watch him standing there, looking impeccable as ever in a full black suit. His black shirt is unbuttoned three rows down, exposing his protruding Adam’s apple and smooth skin.
Tonight, his inky black hair is carefully styled, but there are a few strands that fall out of place.
He’s smiling, but there’s something completely off about the way he’s standing there. It’s almost as if he doesn’t fit in. His lips are moving and I realize I’m not paying attention to what he’s saying.
“—and tonight we’re going to be donating two million dollars for this campaign,” he says, raising his champagne flute. “Let us give back to the people that need it the most.”
The crowd erupts with applause as he hands over a check to a young girl waiting next to the stage.
She can’t be any older than I am, but I immediately feel a pang of jealousy as the girl slips her manicured hand on Hudson’s shoulder and whispers into his ear. She bats her long eyelashes as she looks up at him. The whole exchange is so intimate, so personal, that I get upset with staring at them.
But I can’t stop myself. He turns around and is laughing as the girl whispers again. I want him to look down and look at me, so I move forward and he does eventually look over to where I’m standing, his dark eyes trained on me.
He stops laughing but continues to smile as he nods at me in acknowledgement.
That’s it?
I turn around to find that my parents are both talking to two different groups of people, so I walk away from everyone and back to my original spot by the side of the yacht and watch the city from here.
The Manhattan skyline is breathtakingly beautiful and there’s a
slight light chill in the air. Above, the night sky twinkles with a veil of stars.
“May I join you?”
I don’t have to turn around to see Hudson standing there. He comes to stand in front of me and it’s hard to ignore him, so I look up at him.
“It is your family’s yacht,” I say. “You can do whatever you like.”
His dark green eyes sweep over me, but it doesn’t phase me because I immediately think back to the girl standing beside him on the stage.Why am I jealous when I didn’t have any right to be?
“You look good,” he says, moving forward, closing the space between us.
“Where’s your date?” I blurt out before I can stop myself.
Hudson raises his eyebrows and moves his hand over my wrist. His thumb runs over my skin, inducing a shudder in my body. “She’s not my date. It’s more of a publicity act.”
I stay silent not completely buying his story, so I start to walk away, but he tightens his grip on my wrist and pulls me closer.
He stares down into my eyes before leaning forward and kissing me. His mouth is warm, fresh—he tastes like peppermint as he moves his tongue into my mouth.
I can feel his warm palms against my body suddenly. His long fingers are on my thighs and slowly climbing up and I’m not stopping him. Instead, I pull him closer by his black shirt as the kiss deepens.
My heart starts beating faster when I feel his fingers running along the edges of my panties and that’s when I realise that we are not alone.
I abruptly end the kiss and look over his shoulder to see that no one is watching and thankfully no one is close enough to see that what we’re doing is so inappropriate.
Hudson is smirking when I look back at him and he looks so incredibly attractive that I lean forward and give him a small peck on the lips. He grabs me by the waist, but I press my palms against his chest and push him away lightly.
“We can’t do this here,” I tell him.
“Why not?” he whispers.
