Page 44 of Must Have Been Love

“So you can finish what you started,” she murmurs.

There’s a strange expression on her face. She almost looks hurt.

“No, I want to come over and talk to you. I’ll bring dinner.”

“Like a date?” She frowns like I suggested we swim in a pool full of sharks with bleeding wounds. “It’s okay, you don’t have to do that. And we don’t have to talk. Let’s just agree to never mention this again. You can keep the panties. Whack yourself off with them if that’s your thing.” She takes a step backward from me, like she’s afraid. “Seriously, you made me come. And it was very nice. You don’t owe me dinner and you don’t have to pretend you’re interested in me. What’s done is done.” She mimes zipping her lips. “It’s our secret.”

I stare at her. “It wasvery nice?” I repeat.

“Is that what you got from my words?”

“Very nice,” I say again. “Damned with faint praise.” I’m not going to lie, my ego is a little dented. Because what happened on my desk was far from nice. It was dirty and it was heaven.

Butnice?

“Okay it was mind blowing.” Her eyes lock with mine. “I came harder than I ever came before. You’re the King of Cunnilingus. The Earl of Oral.” Her brows knit. “The Troubador of Tongues.”

“Tuesday night. Seven o’clock.”

“Make it eight. And I’m a picky eater.” She smiles like she thinks that will put me off.

Before I can answer, she sashays out of my office, leaving me staring after her, open mouthed.

fourteen

HUDSON

It’s pouring with rain on Monday morning, which is kind of appropriate for my mood. Because even though my kid is practically jumping with excitement in the car, I absolutely don’t want to be anywhere near this fucking house today.

I pull into the driveway and let out a long breath. If I had any other choice, we wouldn’t be here. But I’m trying to be the better man here – and more importantly, Doctor Methi thinks it’s important for Ayda’s healing that we’re here today.

She deserves to know where she comes from. That’s what all the best therapists tell me. But as I unbuckle my kid’s seat belt I still feel that sick impending doom in my stomach.

“Darling!” an expensive English voice calls out. “Come here to Granny.”

And Ayda – because she’s a kid and she loves her grandparents as much as I loathe them – does exactly that, running into the arms of the elegant woman standing on the doorstep of what is probably her sixth home.

Her husband – Dennis – walks to the bottom step of the porch and shoots me a warning look. Not that it affects me other than making me want to punch his face. But I’ve been wanting to do that for the last two years.

Ever since they stole my daughter away from me.

Ayda’s mother and I dated casually. Or at least I thought it was casual. She thought it was more. She was an English model living in Manhattan and I was a damn idiot.

It was only when I was trying to break things off gently – mostly because she made it clear that she was expecting a ring – that she told me she was pregnant. And then her family got involved.

Turned out the sweet little model with a cute accent came from a hugely wealthy family. Her father is a third generation financial baron. Her mother the daughter of a duke.

“Hudson,” Dennis says, not holding his hand out. We’re way beyond handshakes now. We were from the first time they encouraged Ayda’s mother to flee the US, despite Ayda being a US citizen, and bring her to the UK to ‘wear me down.’

And then, when Ayda’s mother died unexpectedly in a car crash, they refused to let me bring her home. We fought for custody for almost a year. And at no point did they tell me that my daughter – my vibrant, intelligent, beautiful daughter – hadn’t spoken a word since she’d been removed from the wreck of the car that killed her mother and been taken to the hospital.

Those months without seeing my daughter were without a doubt the worst months of my life. Yes, she was conceived under less than ideal circumstances, but from the moment I held her in my arms I knew that my whole world had changed.

I smelled her soft, new baby hair and made a promise that I’d always protect her.

It killed me that I couldn’t protect her from her mother’s desire to wear me down or her grandparents’ desire to keep her from me.

And now, I’m having to face the two people I loathe the most, because Ayda loves them, and even though they hate me, they love her, too.

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