Page 38 of Stolen Bride for the Don

“Why, though? Why me, specifically? Yes, you had the external pressure to get married, and I happened to be right there in your home…your kidnap victim,” I add snarkily, and he raises a brow.

“Seriously, though, you could’ve had anyone, I mean look at you.” I genuinely want to know, and, damn it, I’m not going to let it go until he gives me a straight answer.

CHAPTER 24

HUDSON

Why her? Because after I had her in my clutches, it was the only way I could think of to make her fully mine. That bull about getting divorced in a year is just that…bull fucking shit. I have no intention of letting her go and I’m a man who gets what he wants. Always.

Although the Beauforts have a track record of escaping my clutches…not this time. I can’t exactly tell her that. I barely got her to start talking to me again. Something tells me telling her the real answer would only piss her off more.

I can’t risk the silent treatment again. It’s pure torture; similar to the pain I’m experiencing right now not being able to reach across and touch her in that dress. I knew it would look like absolute perfection on her. No amount of jewels around her neck would be enough. If I could see her in nothing else, I would be a very happy man. The thought alone is making it hard to think and hard to breathe in this suffocating vehicle.

Lucky for me, the limo slows to a stop at that moment and I glance out the window. “Looks like we’re here.”

She lets out a cute little growl as Tanner draws the door open for us. I get out first and stretch out my hand for hers. Her mouth twists at the corners as she places her hand in mine. I squeeze the small flesh in my hand and offer, “You don’t look too pleased.”

“Would you be pleased if I constantly ignored your questions?” she tosses back at me, but she smooths her expression. I lead her to our destination; she takes a deep breath as she glances up at the tall glass building.

“Moor Rooftop,” she reads the words written in bold letters at the top of the five story building. “One of yours?”

I glance at her sharply and she shrugs. “I figured you would only take me somewhere you have absolute control over.”

“Be that as it may,” I reply as I pull the glass door open for her, “the food here is unparalleled.” We walk past the turnstiles that automatically swing open as we approach them.

“Let me guess, it only does that for you?” she teases.

“Of course.” What’s the point of owning a building if I can’t come and go as I wish? I lead her to my private elevator, pressing the pad of my thumb to the panel. The doors slide open smoothly. I glance at Andrea, but she doesn’t seem to have a comment for that.

“If the restaurant is on the balcony at the rooftop, then what do the remaining floors house?” she asks as the elevator goes up to our destination. The rooftop restaurant.

“I rent them out. There’s a small shopping mall on the third floor. A corporate office on the ground floor. A movie theater on the first floor. A daycare on the second floor.”

“And the fourth floor?”

I smirk, “I had it converted into a row of studio apartments for some of my men.”

She nods as the elevator doors swing open. I place my hand on the small of her back, my gaze dropping to her pert ass. It sways deliciously as she walks.

“Mr. Moratti,” the hostess–I check her name tag–Trina greets and smiles at me warmly. “Welcome. Please follow me.”

It’s completely unnecessary, but I understand her wanting to impress me, so I follow her across the empty restaurant. Andrea whistles softly as we weave past chairs and glances up at the completely glass ceiling to take in the night sky.

Trina comes to a stop at the corner with the best view of the city and Andrea audibly gasps. “This place is spectacular.”

I pull out her chair as I survey the restaurant curtly. “That plant is drying out. Do something about it,” I tell Trina who nods frantically as she notes it down.

“Your waiter will be with you shortly,” she says and quickly shuffles away. I try not to notice when she wobbles a little on her heels.

“Where is everyone?” Andrea asks as I take the seat across from her.

“Everyone?”

“You know, the patrons. A place like this…” she trails off and glances around. “I bet it’s booked out for months.”

She’s right. “I had their reservations rescheduled because we needed privacy.”

She gapes at me. “What? That’s so so…extravagant.”

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