Page 36 of Stolen Bride for the Don

His eyes light up and he starts talking about how the babies kept her up all night with their kicking, and I nod with excitement. He says that he can almost make out the shape of their tiny feet against Charlie’s belly now. We chat for a little longer then he has to go.

After my talk with Ezra, I call Dad.

“Andrea!” Dad says cheerfully as soon as he sees my face, and I beam at him. “How have you been enjoying your vacation, princess?”

“I met someone,” I say without a preamble.

Dad immediately calls Mom to his side; and while my parents stare at me with wide eyes, I tell them about Hudson, referring to him as Massimo, of course. Mom is overjoyed, while Dad is worried about Hudson’s profession.

“I thought you didn’t want this life?” he asks quietly, and I shrug.

“I love him,” I whisper, almost choking on the lie. I’m a Daddy’s girl through and through, and he’s the one person I can’t stomach lying to. He nods with a small smile.

“Then it’s final. Let me know when the engagement dinner will be,” he insists, and that’s that. No lecture about how we’re moving too fast. Nothing. Guilt eats my insides as mom asks more questions, and I stick to the truth as much as I can. When the call ends, I call Alex.

“I just got off the phone with Ezra,” he says before I can say anything. “We’ll be there tomorrow to make sure everything is on the straight and narrow.”

“How ironic coming from you,” I tease. Next to Hudson, Alex is the least straight and narrow person I know. He just rolls his eyes at me and asks if I’m okay. I’m not sure if he buys my story; Alex has his emotions under tight control, not unlike Hudson. If not for the whole shooting Ezra and then stealing his baby sister debacle, the two of them would probably hit it off as well as a couple tight-ass control freaks can, anyway.

Being the problem solver he is, he asks if there’s anything he can do at the bar while I’m away indefinitely. I feel guilty leaving Keith high and dry without a job, but I don’t exactly know how things will pan out for my business. It makes me incredibly sad: my biggest accomplishment in life squashed. I ask Alex to call Keith for me and explain. I can’t stand to lie to anyone else today.

As we talk, Autumn walks into the frame. I grin at her catching up with how things are progressing with Hill of Autumn Landscaping Inc, her fledgling landscaping business. When I’m done with the calls I flop back on the bed and stare at the ceiling with a hollow feeling in my chest. I miss them.

Before I can give in to self-pity, there’s a short knock on the door. and Diane peeks in, “I’m here with your lunch.”

She walks in with a tray in her hand, but a trail of people carrying various bags and tools are behind her. “What now?”

She waves a hand dismissively. “They’re going to help you with your hair and makeup. After you’ve eaten, of course.”

Of course. I check the time: it’s now 2:48. I spent almost two hours on the phone with my family. “Why do I need help with my hair and makeup?”

“Massimo had them brought in. I think you have a big date tonight.” Her brown eyes light up with excitement. Right. The date. I sigh as I accept the food tray.

CHAPTER 23

ANDREA

One of the team of people in my room drops a long garment bag on my bed and asks me to get dressed before they can start my hair and makeup. I briefly debate arguing that I don’t need my hair and makeup done. I can manage just fine on my own. Especially after the last time when I let them poke and prod me, only for Hudson to cancel.

But what would be the point? They are here on Hudson’s order, and I doubt they’d listen to my protests, anyway. I sigh as I drag my feet to the ensuite. After a quick shower, where I’m hyper conscious of the people busy setting up their equipment just outside the door, I drag open the sink drawer in search of some lotion. Realizing I forgot to grab the garment bag, I pilfer the laundry basket for one of Hudson’s dirty gym shirts; there’s no way I’m walking out there with just a towel wrapped around me.

I’ve resigned myself to going sans underwear, since I can’t bring myself to put on a dirty pair, when a short knock sounds on the door. I crack the large wooden door open and a hand pops through holding the bag with tonight’s look. There is a stunning deep blue mini dress, matching bra and black lacy underwear, a pair of red–bottomed heels, and a velvet clutch.

“Wow,” I stammer. Someone sure covered all their bases.

The dress is Versace–with a stunning sweetheart neckline with floss-thin shoulder straps. Under normal circumstances, I’d be impressed that a man got me something this edgy–and in my taste too–but fuck him.

“Fuck him,” I say savagely when I slip on the underwear; they fit perfectly. Of course, he knows my underwear size. I have a wardrobe full of clothes to prove it, but this reminder just pokes at the sore wound left brewing from this morning.

I turn in front of the mirror, loving the way the dress accentuates my curves and dips after pulling the zipper. I turn my nose up at my reflection and flip my middle finger to myself–just in case I’m being watched in here too. I wouldn’t put it past him. Then I walk out to where three people are waiting for me.

A woman with pink hair and a nose ring points to a high chair they’ve set in the room, and I take a seat. My butt is barely on the chair before they descend on me; someone is pulling at my hair while another set of hands dance over my face. It feels like a lifetime before they finally step back and declare me “ready”. Before I can even murmur a thank you, they’ve turned away and are packing up. As I get down from the chair, the bedroom door swings open; my breath hitches as I take in Hudson.

He looks extra hot, damn him. I look him over, trying to figure out why. He’s dressed in a bespoke suit as always, with a tie and his jaw clean shaven. I squint, trying to pinpoint exactly what is different.

“Did you get a haircut?” I finally ask, realizing the change must be his hair. The dark mass is brushed away from his face; usually a strand drops over his forehead. Behind me, someone gasps.

“You cut your hair somewhere else?” the guy who styled mine asks.

---