In all our time together, I couldn't remember a single time that Hudson had told me about his dreams—not his real literal dreams, the ones that occurred while he was sleeping.
I cocked my head and stared at him. "Tell me about it?"
He hesitated for a moment, his hand inside my robe, rubbing against the skin of my torso. "It wasn't really long. Just a brief snapshot of an afternoon. Sometime way in the future. We were at Stern and Brett was graduating with her MBA."
Brett following in my footsteps at my alma mater—it made my chest warm to imagine it.
"She looked just as beautiful as you did, the first night I saw you at that symposium. And she was just as smart and strong and fearless and enough."
God. Our future. I'd never thought that far into it, what life would look like when they grew up. I tried imagining it now, with him.
"How did you look?"
"I still had my hair."
I rolled my eyes. "Perfect, I bet. You probably aged better than me." He would always look perfect. I was sure of that.
"I still thought you were pretty goddamned sexy. I had wanted to pull you into another dark hallway so I could mess you up before the ceremony, but Bennett was with us."
I furrowed my brow. "Who's Bennett?"
"Our son. He's an oopsie."
I almost lost it at Hudson's use of the word oopsie, such an informal word from such a formal man.
And then I started to process what he'd said. Another kid. "I'm guessing this means you aren't getting that vasectomy."
"Bennett is your favorite child! I can't bear to go out of business now that I know about him."
Whether it was his way of saying he wasn't quite ready to close up shop—or that he'd prefer not to be the one to go under the knife—I wasn't sure. Either way, I could handle that revelation. That we weren't necessarily done. As long as it wasn't happening right away. "How much later does it—he—happen?"
Hudson squinted his eyes. "I guess he was ten years younger than the twins. Maybe more." Jesus, I’d be in my forties. He was definitely getting fixed after that one.
But maybe that would be the perfect time for an oopsie.
I nestled into him. "Who else was there? Tell me what else we’re like in the future."
"Like I said, it was only a snapshot of this moment. But I did gather a lot. Holden was there—he was already married. And his wife seemed really pregnant. About to burst pregnant. Mina got there late because she was running from work—she was managing The Sky Launch now, and there'd been some sort of crisis. Jack was there. Sophia… wasn't."
I was quiet, not sure what to say about a future without the woman who had made my husband's life hell, but had also still been his mother.
"That's okay," he said when I didn't say anything. "I don't know how to feel about that myself."
"I'm sure it was sad."
"It was sad." He let another beat go by before continuing. "Mirabelle and Adam were there. Oh, and Brett's boyfriend. She was dating one of the Bruzzos. It was pretty serious. He hinted he had a ring."
I sat up excitedly, ignoring the protest of my side. If Brett really married one of Gwen's kids, it would tie our families together in even more ways than we already were. I loved the idea.
"Which one was it?"
"Is there a difference? I don't know. One of them."
I shook my head. "You are terrible."
"I should've known his name. He was working at Pierce Industries. He kept trying to pitch me new ideas during the boring parts of the ceremony. Some of them were actually good."
"Man, wouldn’t that be amazing? Brett marrying Gwen’s son, and the two of them taking over your business when you retire. All of it, really. Sounds like an amazeballs future."
"I hope it’s our future. But whatever future I have with you will be perfect. The only required ingredient is that you’re in it with me.”
I tucked my head under his chin, and thought about what he’d said, holding his dream with him. His dream hadn’t included anything like, “And you didn’t have a breakdown after your next baby.” He didn’t even say, “Yeah, you went a little crazy again, but we all survived.” And it struck me that those things didn’t matter to him. That his vision didn’t have to include “fixing” me to be perfect. He accepted the two Alaynas, accepted that they both made me me.
And why shouldn’t he? Hudson still maneuvered and schemed and controlled. It was why he was so good at ruling his empire. Sometimes he crossed the line and tried to manipulate me and sent me into a fuss, but I didn’t want him any other way.
So maybe our whole relationship, when I’d thought we worked because we fixed each other’s broken parts, was wrong. Maybe we hadn’t fixed each other at all—because we didn’t need fixing. We needed healing and understanding. We needed patience and optimism. We needed dreams instead of nightmares and light instead of darkness. We needed trust.
And we’d given each other all of that.
We’d both just needed to be loved. For who we were and despite what we’d done. For our strengths and our weaknesses too. We’d needed someone to belong to, someone who filled our dark spaces, someone who moved heaven and Earth to make sure we’d always be together.
We’d needed love.
And we had enough of that to last us a lifetime and beyond.
* * *
Epilogue 2
Hudson
* * *
I took the rest of the week off to be with my family. To be there for Alayna when she woke from the nightmares, her heart racing, sweat pouring from her body. To make sure everyone felt safe and secure and whole before returning to work.
On my first day back, Patricia greeted me with a packed schedule and a handful of mail and interoffice items that only I could attend to. Slipped between a stack of standard contracts sent over from Accelecom, I found a single sealed white business sized envelope, my name scrawled in a masculine script on the front.
Inside was a page of hotel stationery, folded in thirds with a note handwritten in the same cursive.
* * *
I’m grateful to hear your wife is back in your arms.
You and I have unfinished business.
* * *
Edward Fasbender
Meet the man who slayed the dragon.
* * *
Slay
(Book 1 of the Slay Trilogy)
* * *
Three years after Hudson officially quit playing games with her, Celia Werner is summoned to the office of Edward Fasbender, the most wealthy media mogul on the European continent. She meets with him, assuming he wants to hire her to decorate his offices.
* * *
Instead, he has an intriguing proposition for her.
* * *
Coming June 10, 2019
Free Story from Me!
Don’t miss the FREE story in my newsletter, SWEET LIAR, starting end of May 2018, one chapter a month. Available to subscribers only.
* * *
British ad exec, Dylan Locke, isn’t looking for love. He isn’t looking for fate. He’s definitely not looking for the pretty, young, romantic Audrey Lind.
* * *
But when the girl, who’s twenty years younger than him, literally lands in his lap and asks for his expertise, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t interested.
* * *
Book one in the next duet in the Dirty Universe will be delivered a chapter a month to your inbox starting late May 2018. Sign up for my newsletter now so you don’t miss out!
Dirty Sexy Player
Sneak Peek!
A New Duet in the Dirty Filthy Universe from NYT Bestselling Author, Laurelin Paige.
Weston King knows how to play. But wild nights and owning an extensive collection of women's panties don't carry the thrill they once did, so when his business partner Donovan suggests an outrageous plan to allow them to take over their competition, Wes takes him up on the offer. The crazy idea? Marry the competitor.
* * *
Elizabeth Dyson, the bride-to-be in question, is on board with the plan. She wants access to her trust fund and can only get it once she marries. Each has something the other wants - all they have to do is pretend to like each other well enough to tie the knot.
* * *
Only trouble is, playing fiancé to Elizabeth isn't quite that simple. Wes finds her sexy and brilliant...and soon wishes their engagement wasn't fake at all. Not that he'd ever tell her that.
* * *
But a lover boy like Wes can only stand an empty bed for so long...and even the best of players has to put down his cards eventually.
ONE
Weston
"Nice rock," I said, admiring the diamond ring Donovan placed on the tabletop. I picked it up and examined the stone in the dimly lit lounge of the The Grand Havana Room, the member’s-only cigar lounge we often frequented when we were together. The diamond was a big one, in a platinum setting with at least four carats between the large center jewel and the scattering of smaller diamonds surrounding it. A serious engagement ring. I wouldn’t expect anything less from one of the world’s most successful young billionaires.
I just had no idea Donovan was even dating anyone.
Of course, we weren’t as close as we used to be. Physically, anyway. He’d been managing the Tokyo office with Cade since we’d expanded our advertising firm into that market. He rarely made it stateside, and it had been nearly a year since I’d last seen Donovan in person. When he’d shown up tonight unexpectedly asking Nate and I to meet him at the club, we’d guessed he had serious news but that it was about the business.
An engagement ring was a whole new level of serious. No wonder he wanted to do this in person.
"Who's the lucky girl?" I asked, trying not to sound bothered that this was the first I was hearing about her. A glance at Nate said it was the first he was hearing about her too.
"You're asking the wrong question," Donovan said, and bit off the end of his cigar. "The question is who's the lucky guy?"
I raised a brow, confused. But not surprised. Donovan was known to speak in riddles. I’d figure out what he was trying to tell me when he was ready to spill. Might as well play along in the meantime.
"Okay.” I pinched the ring between two fingers and lifted it toward the nearest light source so I could see the full effect of its sparkle. "Who's the lucky guy?"
He lit the end of his cigar and puffed a couple of times before taking it out and answering. "You."
"Oh, Donovan. You shouldn't have.” I clutched my hand to my chest for dramatic effect. “I don’t know that we’ve ever said it, but I love you too. Still, I don't think I'm ready for this." I handed the ring back to him with a shake of my head.
Nate hid his smirk by taking a large swig of his imported beer.
"Very funny." Donovan carefully placed the ring back in its box. "I'm not proposing to you, Weston. I’m proposing for you."
"You are, are you?" I chuckled at his attempt at a joke. Inside my jacket pocket my phone buzzed with a text. I pulled it out and quickly skimmed the message.
I need to see you.
Normally I’d be all up for a booty call, but my night belonged to the guys. I deleted the message without reading who it was from, silenced my phone and put it back in my pocket.
I gave my attention back to Donovan, continuing to play along with his hoax. "Just who exactly are you proposing to for me?"
He puffed heavily on his cigar before removing it from his mouth to speak. "Her name is Elizabeth Dyson. She’s the sole inheritor of the Dyson Empire. She's twenty-five, classy though spirited, well-bred—definitely a suitable bride. Your union is going to take our business to the next level. Once you marry her, Reach, Inc. will be the biggest advertising company in Europe."
All humor drained from my face. He was serious. Donovan never joked about business. But marriage? "You've got to be kidding me."
“Not even a little bit."
I was beginning to regret not looking at the name before I deleted that text. I’d have loved to have a reason to bail right about then.
But it was Donovan's first night back in town, I really couldn't leave him now. Not to mention, I knew him. Once he got an idea in his head, it was nearly impossible to get it out. My best chance was to listen, find the weakness in his scheme, and then propose an alternate strategy.
If that failed, I’d tell him fuck, no, and that would be that.
Hopefully.
Saying fuck, no to Donovan Kincaid was often a bit harder in reality than it seemed in theory.
If I was going to stay, I was at least going to need a stiffer drink. I signaled the waiter. "Can you bring me a shot of Fireball?" Nate nudged me. "Two shots of Fireball?"
Then I turned to Donovan. "You’d better explain this from the beginning.”
He took a puff of his cigar. "It's a short explanation. Dell Dyson, founder, CEO, and majority shareholder of Dyson Media—basically France’s version of Time Warner—died about eight months ago, leaving his daughter the sole inheritor to the bulk of his fortune. However, the will states she can’t get her hands on any of it until she’s 29—with one exception.”
"Ah, I think I’m getting the picture," Nate said, taking a pull on his beer.
My brows remained wrinkled, my picture still unclear. “Explain it to me then,” I said, turning to Nate. “Because I’m not following.”
He set his bottle on the table and tilted his head toward me. “Daddy Dell was a traditionalist. The daughter inherits when she puts a ring on it.”
“Oh.” Understanding settled in. I screwed my face up in disgust. “That’s gross.”
“Completely terrible and misogynistic,” Donovan agreed, not sounding terribly upset at all. “But there’s nothing we can do about the unfortunate set-up to her situation, and there is something we can do to get her out of it. Something that works out in our favor. So what we need to do is focus on getting Elizabeth married to our man Weston—”
I started to protest, but Donovan rose a hand to silence me. “Temporarily married—a couple of months is all we need for Elizabeth to claim her inheritance of Dyson Media. Once she does, she can push through the merger of Dyson’s advertising subsidiary with Reach, and we’ll take over as the biggest ad company in the European market.”
“Just like that,” I said, skeptically.
“Just like that.” There was no trace of doubt in Donovan’s voice.
"And what makes you think that she'd be interested in this?" I asked. "I mean why would she be interested in giving someone—giving us—part of the company? Not why would she be interested in me." I wasn’t worried about women being into me. But I certainly wasn’t into discussing it with Donovan.
Of course he had an answer for this as well. "I'm in preliminary talks with her already. And she seemed quite interested in the whole arrangement. I didn’t specify who her groom would be but told her I had an eligible bachelor. She's thinking about it further. Tomorrow afternoon in the office, all four of us will have a meeting to hammer out the details. I’ve already cleared your schedule."
It was a good thing the shots arrived then. "You mean I have to have this all thought through and decided by tomorrow afternoon?"
"Oh, you'll agree," Donovan said, confidently.
I threw back the shot. It didn't burn half as much as Donovan's proposal.
I rolled my neck, easing the muscles in my shoulders. "I need a minute to think about this."
"Take two.”
I wasn't really considering any of it, but it was an excuse to order another drink and make Donovan pay for it.
I gestured for the waiter to bring two more shots. Then I leaned back against the plush leather upholstery of the bench seat and rubbed my hand across my forehead, pretending to weigh Donovan's offer in my mind.
To be honest, I’d been restless recently. I enjoyed the benefits of my life—my rental apartment in Midtown, my sex life, the view from my office. But my twenty-ninth birthda
y was looming and that was so close to thirty. A milestone birthday, and what did I have to show for it?
Okay. I was one of five shareholders of Reach,Inc., one of the most successful ad agencies in the world, but everyone knew that was Donovan's brainchild.
What did I have that was purely my own?
A month ago, I'd been so caught up in the desire for clarity that, on a whim, I'd asked a girl to move to New York from LA. It wasn’t the first impulsive move I’d ever made, especially not for a girl—a girl I'd been naked with all weekend, no less—but it had been the craziest.
Almost as crazy of an idea as getting married to a stranger in order to improve our business status.
Sabrina, the naked woman, had been a peer that Donovan and I had gone to Harvard with. I’d been fortunate enough to spend a magical reunion weekend with her. There was something about her—a combination of her sexy laugh, serious demeanor, and intelligent brain that struck a chord deep inside me. Our conversation had made me feel warm and interesting and I wanted to capture that. Wanted to make it last.
So much so that right there on the spot, I demanded she take the position of Director of Marketing Strategy. Who cared that there was somebody else who held the position already?
She’d turned me down, wisely, but after she’d left, when the hormones calmed down, I looked into her resume anyway. Turned out she actually deserved the position, and I'd been halfheartedly working on making the transition happen legitimately ever since.
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