Page 86 of Critical Mass
Natalie folded a blouse with more force than necessary, remembering all the times her father had tried to control her personal life too. The endless parade of “suitable” men he’d introduced her to at company events and charity galas.
Matthew Whitfield from the Maritime Trade Association—handsome, ambitious, and so boring she’d nearly fallen asleep during dinner. Her father had been thrilled when Matthew asked for her number. She’d given him a polite rejection after two dates.
Then there was Jonathan Rutter, whose family owned Rutter Maritime. That introduction had been purely strategic—her father hoping a romantic connection might smooth over business tensions. Jonathan had been nice enough, but she’d felt like a chess piece being moved across a board rather than a woman on an actual date.
And David . . . something—she couldn’t even remember his last name. He’d worked in shipping logistics, had impressive credentials, and had spent their entire date talking about himself without asking her a single question.
Her father’s taste in men for her had one consistent theme: They all advanced his business interests. None of them had made her laugh. None of them had looked at her like she was more than Richard Ravenscroft’s daughter and a potential business asset.
Not like Timothy—Hudson—had looked at her.
Natalie paused, a dress half-folded in her hands.
Even now, knowing everything had been a lie, she could still remember the way he’d smiled at her in that cooking class. The way he’d actually listened when she talked, like her words mattered. The way he’d made her feel seen.
Had any of it been real? Or had he just been better at pretending than Matthew or Jonathan or David?
CHAPTER
FORTY-EIGHT
Natalie shook her head,forcing the thought away. It didn’t matter. She had bigger problems right now than her complicated feelings about Hudson Roberts.
She zipped the suitcase and looked around her bedroom. Her space. Her sanctuary. The place where she’d planned her future, dreamed her dreams, imagined a life where she made her own choices.
Now she was going back to her father’s house, back under his protection—or his control, depending on how this played out.
It meant being closer to potential evidence—but also closer to getting caught. Living a lie under the same roof where she’d grown up believing her father was a hero.
And it meant Hudson would be there too. Playing the concerned boyfriend. Staying close to “protect” her.
Their earlier kiss flashed through her mind. At once, she was back in the study hearing her father’s footsteps in the hall. The split-second decision to pull Hudson close and press her lips to his felt real all over again.
Heat crept up her neck. The action was supposed to be a distraction, a cover. But the moment his arms had come around her, the moment he’d responded?—
No. Natalie couldn’t think about that. Couldn’t let herself remember how right it had felt, how for those few seconds she’d forgotten about the lies and the danger and just felt safe in his arms.
It was all pretend. All performance. Hudson had made that clear when he’d told his commanders the relationship was “nothing more” than cover.
She pulled her suitcase from the bed and let it drop with a bang.
“Need help?”
Natalie jumped at the unexpected voice.
She turned and saw Hudson lingering in the doorway.
She averted her gaze. “I’ve got it.”
“Natalie—”
She didn’t have the bandwidth for this conversation now. No, she’d need all her energy when she stayed at her dad’s house. Living a lie was exhausting. How had Hudson managed to do it for so long?
“We should go,” she told him. “My father’s waiting.”
Before he could argue, she brushed past him, her suitcase wheels clicking across the hardwood floor. However, she sensed his presence behind her, felt the weight of all the unspoken words between them.
This was going to be impossible. Living under her father’s roof, pretending to be in love with Hudson, trying to gather intelligence while maintaining her cover.
