Page 32 of Stolen Bride for the Don

Hudson carries me to the ensuite in our bedroom. “Take a hot shower and change out of those wet clothes,” he instructs, his eyes momentarily dropping to where goosebumps cover my chest before flying back to mine.

I give him a short nod, and he spins around, leaving me alone for once. I take off his jacket, unable to resist taking the material up to my nose to inhale his delicious scent. T drop it into the hamper with a sigh and peel off my dress.

I test the temperature of the water, making sure it’s warm enough before stepping into the shower–what I should have done earlier before committing to submerging myself in the pond, head and all. But fuck, I wasn’t really thinking. I wanted to make a scene, and a point to him and myself. I think I did, just maybe not the right one; now everyone will think I’m crazy. I was mad at him and then he called me his, while giving me that smoldering look. I wanted to jump his bones, so I walked into the pond to keep myself from doing so or saying anything stupid.

I linger in the shower, leaving only when my skin starts to prune. I’m shocked to see Hudson still in the bedroom.

“You’re still here?” I ask, clutching the towel tighter around my body. He gives my body a perfunctory stare then glances up at me.

“When you’re done getting dressed, meet me in my study,” he orders and leaves the room. I roll my eyes as I make my way to the closet. I throw on a pair of light leggings and another one of his big shirts. I brush my hair out and put it up in a ponytail.

The thick-necked guy is back at my doorway; as I start to leave, I half expect him to try to stop me, but he only follows. I slow my strides so he can catch up, but he slows his as well. I toss a glance at him, but he’s staring at a point past my head. I sigh, getting the message that he doesn’t want to interact with me.

When I reach Hudson’s study, Walker is just leaving. He flashes a cheerful smile. I wave my fingers at him. Hudson is as usual: seated in his chair like a king on a throne. I take a seat across from him. This time, he doesn’t have to nudge the mug to me. I grab it myself, taking an appreciative sip of the delicious brew. If he’s bribing me, I’m all for it. I may be contractually tied to him, but if he wants to buy my cooperation, I won’t say no. And coffee is the fastest way to my heart.

“I got a text from your brother.”

The unexpected words make me swallow faster than I usually do, sending the warm liquid down the wrong pipe. I choke and start coughing; he jumps out of his chair with an exclamation. He pats my back, tears streaming down my face as I try to catch my breath and get the coughing to subside. He stays behind me, murmuring in soothing Italian. You’re going to be fine. Breathe. AHe keeps rubbing up and down my back.

When I’ve managed to regain my composure, his hand doesn’t leave my back. “Which of my brothers texted you? Ezra?” I ask, knowing he's probably the only one who can guess where I am.

“Yes. He got word that you’re missing and called me. He demanded I release you immediately or there will be consequences.” He drops his hand and moves away from me. I frown, despising that I’m now so used to his presence that him shifting away from me makes me almost miss him.

“Do they think I’ve been kidnapped?” I ask as he takes his seat again. Oh, God, what would my parents think? Dad.

“No, Alex told him you’ve gone on vacation without telling anyone but your father, but Ezra seems to believe that you’re not that spontaneous. Even if you didn’t say goodbye, you would’ve reached out to the family by now. And you’ve never left the bar closed for more than a day or two, so your employees were getting suspicious.”

He’s right, of course. Since Dad’s stroke, I’ve been making sure to update my family when I leave town. Keith must be confused why I haven’t reached out about his unrequested time off. “So he knows I’m here.”

“Yes, but what he doesn’t know is that you’re not here against your will,” he says, and I raise my brows.

“Aren’t I?”

He has the nerve to smirk. “You and I, we have an understanding now,” he reminds me. “So, you’re going to call him and tell him you’re fine.”

“I would do that, genius, but I lost my phone when you kidnapped me. I don’t have access to another way to communicate with anyone.”

He opens a drawer on his side of the desk and tosses a sleek iPhone to me. I grab it and raise a brow when I tap the screen to see my photo on the screen saver. I swipe it to unlock the phone. As I go through it, I realize that it has all my details already stored on it.

“What did you do?” I ask as calmly as I can even though I already know what he did.

“I logged into your iCloud.”

A dark haze covers my eyes as I stand, my heart pounding in my throat. “And how did you guess my login info?”

He pauses, sensing something is wrong despite my calm demeanor. “I told you that I had access to you, your house, and your phone before I took you.”

Yes, but for some reason it never occurred to me that he would go so far as to have access to private knowledge. “You had no right, Hudson. You had no right,” I growl. Just as I start to think maybe he’s not so bad, I’ let in on new, disturbing information that reminds me that, yes, he is indeed that bad. Worse. “How could you?”

“Andrea,” he starts, getting up from his seat. My quiet fury seems to be getting to him more than any words could, but I’m too angry to even feel any satisfaction.

“I’ll call my family, let them know I’m fine, and give them a story about our relationship. Just like we agreed. You don’t have to worry about that,” I tell him and turn to leave the study.

I don’t hear him approach me, but his hand suddenly clamps on my shoulder and spins me around to face him, “Andrea, wait–”

I flinch from his touch. “Don’t touch me, Hudson.” A flicker of worry crosses his gaze as he watches me take a step back.

“I had to know everything about you, so why is this where you draw the line? I’ve done a lot worse in my quest to find out everything,” he reminds me.

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