Page 69 of Critical Mass
There was nothing else to discuss concerning her father. Not right now. Not while security watched them.
Speaking of security . . .
She nodded at the sedan. “What do we do about them?”
Hudson blew out a breath. “Tonight at dinner, we address it with your father. Make the case that visible security makes you a harder target but doesn’t actually make you safer. Push for him to pull them back.”
“And if he refuses?”
His expression darkened. “Then we assume everything we do is being watched and plan accordingly. It means we can’t meet privately, can’t have conversations that aren’t in character, can’t do anything that might raise suspicion.”
The implications settled over Natalie like a weight. She was trapped between her father’s surveillance and Hudson’s operation, with no privacy, no space to process what was happening, no room to make mistakes.
“I need to get back to work,” she said, exhaustion suddenly hitting her. “Try to pretend today is normal. Try to pretend my house wasn’t just broken into and I’m not being followed by my father’s security team.”
“Natalie—”
“I can’t,” she interrupted. “Besides, we need to get inside.”
She turned and walked toward the elevator before he could respond, before the tears threatening to spill could actually fall.
She wouldn’t cry. Not here, not where Hudson and her father’s security team could see.
She’d save that for later when she was alone in her violated house. Only then would she try to figure out how her life had become this nightmare where she couldn’t trust her father, couldn’t trust the man she’d thought she loved, couldn’t even trust herself to know what was real anymore.
They stepped inside, and the elevator doors closed. As they did, Natalie saw Hudson’s reflection in the polished metal.
For a moment, just a moment, she let herself wonder if the regret on his face was real or just another performance.
She forced herself to stop wondering.
It didn’t matter anymore what Hudson Roberts felt or didn’t feel.
She only needed to concentrate on surviving whatever came next.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-SEVEN
After work,Hudson drove Natalie back to her house. The black sedan with the two security agents maintained its discreet distance three cars behind.
He had to get rid of them.
He pulled into her driveway and grabbed his overnight bag from his trunk. They’d need to maintain the appearance that he was staying close, protecting her. Thankfully he’d brought a variety of clothes—business casual as well as a suit.
He needed something suitable for dinner with Richard Ravenscroft—the kind of outfit a consultant boyfriend would wear to impress his girlfriend’s powerful father.
The house felt different as they walked inside. Blemished.
Hudson sensed Natalie’s tension as she moved through the rooms. Her eyes lingered on the couch cushions, the bookshelf, the stairs leading to her bedroom.
Someone had been here. Someone had touched her things, invaded her space, and searched through her life.
And Hudson still didn’t know why.
“I’m going to change.” Tension threaded through Natalie’s voice. “You can use the guest bathroom. You know where it is.”
She disappeared upstairs before he could respond.
