Page 56 of Stolen Bride for the Don

The bedroom door swings open, and there he is, standing there looking sexy as hell in dark blue slacks and an open black shirt tailored to fit his broad shoulders and lean hips impeccably. I can’t believe he had all that latent power over me–inside me–just a few short hours ago.

I snap the book shut, hating that my cheeks are heating up. I rise to my feet and notice a man hesitating at the threshold of the bedroom. The doctor from last night. Killian.

“Good morning, Miss Beaufort.” He hesitates, then walks into the room with a heavy bag. “Although I work as the Moratti family’s in-house doctor, treating all sorts of medical concerns, I’m actually a gynecologist.” He gives me a reassuring smile as he comes to a stop a couple of steps away from me.

“Oh.” I glance at Hudson, a little uncertain, but he isn’t even looking at me. Is he going to be here for this appointment? I glance at the doctor, who has moved to the nightstand, where he places his bag. He opens the thing and snaps on some gloves. I gulp and slowly make my way to the bed.

I had taken a shower and changed into a pair of leggings and a shirt. Now I hesitate, and the doctor gives Hudson a pointed glance before moving his gaze back to me. He notes my uneasy look. “We’re just going to chat; the gloves are standard practice. But if you’re not comfortable with Massimo being here let me know, and I’ll–”

“I’m staying,” Hudson growls just as I say,

“No, it’s okay.”

His green eyes fly to mine with an intensity that almost frightens me. I swallow and quickly climb into the bed. After a few brief questions about my medical history, the doctor administers a morning-after shot before instructing me to lie back on the bed.

After a brief discussion of my conception plans–of which I certainly have none–he suggests that we insert an IUD. I agree and shimmy off my tights after both men respectfully offer to step out of the room. Of course, they both come back in, I know there’s no chance Hudson would allow me to be alone, but I surprisingly appreciate it.

“Ready miss?“ the doctor asks. “This will sting a bit.”

I close my eyes and take a deep breath as he inserts the IUD to prevent fertilization. The shot is probably ninety-nine percent certain–more secure than the pill even–so the IUD is overkill…but this is Hudson we’re talking about. He does nothing in half measures.

After the doctor leaves, I blink at the ceiling wearily, then turn to Hudson. His body is still tensed up. “Are you okay?” I ask, biting my lip. Is his arm hurting him?

“I can’t say that I enjoy having another man look at you so intimately,” he grits out.

Is he…jealous? “Killian was completely professional, Hudson.”

“You think I don’t know that? I was right here! I don’t like this. You’ve crawled your way into my veins, and you make me feel…out of control. It’s–” He shakes his head and swallows the rest of his words. “Are you happy now?”

“Happy?”

“Happy that I’m now unable to knock you up.” His expression is blank, and I can’t guess what he's thinking.

“I wouldn’t say that I’m exactly happy. Relieved is a better word. Getting knocked up right now would be one of the stupidest choices I could make.” Not only are we not in a relationship, but whatever it is between us–whether he likes it or not–has an expiration date. How could I bring an innocent child into that? This won’t end like Ezra and Charlie’s relationship. This isn’t that.

You’ve crawled your way into my veins and you make me feel. I shake my head to dislodge his words from my brain. I don’t want to analyze and pick apart each word in that sentence.

Hudson gives a short nod and announces, “I’ve decided on our wedding date. The 25th of July.”

I start, why is he suddenly bringing up the wedding? “So soon?”

“It’s still a whole month away. More than enough time for you to plan whatever’s needed.” He still wears that blank expression, and a lump forms in my throat.

“Alright. I’ll get in touch with my family today and let them know.”

Hudson nods and states, “We’ll go out tomorrow. On a date.” Right. We still have to keep up appearances that we’re a happy couple madly in love.

“Right. Okay.” I nod in return. Is it just me or are we both just nodding and nodding? He nods again and leaves the bedroom. I sigh, collapsing back on the bed. This isn’t good. This isn’t good at all. Why am I unable to go back to the way I felt about him yesterday? It’s the sex. It complicated things, and now I can’t stop thinking about him…about doing it with him again. Fuck, I’m in trouble.

* * *

I don’t know where the date is exactly because Hudson refuses to breathe a word of it to me, so I’m not sure what to wear. After spending ten minutes staring blankly at my clothes, I decide to go for the ultimate no-fail outfit: a little black dress. I let my hair down, remembering how Hudson couldn’t take his hands off it last night–not that I’m dressing for him. Not at all.

When I walk out of the bedroom, he gives me an approving smile before spinning away from me, but I don’t miss the way his eyes darken slightly. I enjoy the ride to wherever we’re going, my face practically glued to the window as I admire the city’s stunning architecture. I spot picturesque bridges and cobblestone walkways that are common in most New England towns and cities.

Our destination turns out to be the marina; I hesitate as we get out of the Jeep. Hudson’s hand slips to my waist, and he gives me a reassuring smile as he leads me to a sleek chrome and black yacht with a single deck and closed roof. Beautiful as the boat is, my steps falter because a. I’m assuming this date is going to be on the water, and b. that yacht is too fucking tiny. Did I never mention my irrational fear of open water?

Hudson raises a brow and asks, “Is there a problem?”

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