Wasted (Dirty Boys of Chicago #1) Read online

  “You can cook?”

  He turned around smiling. “Yes, I can cook. Not much. Actually, eggs may be it, but at least it's something. How did you sleep?”

  There was a table in front of bay windows overlooking the garden that had been set for two. There was another white rose sitting in the middle of the table in a small vase. He laid a quick kiss on my cheek, as he walked past me, and put the eggs onto one of the plates.

  “Fine. You?”

  “For the first time in a long time, I slept soundly. I didn't have a single dream.”

  It was funny, but neither had I. “So, which one is mine?”

  He went back over to the stove. I could tell was expensive because it had a hood like many restaurant kitchens’ did. “Yours is one of the eggs already. Ladies first.”

  I beamed at him before shuffling over to my seat. “Got any ketchup?”

  I looked over my shoulder at him, and he was shaking his head. “You don't ask the chef for ketchup.”

  I laughed. “I guess I'm lucky that you're not a chef, aren't I? Sorry, I'm starving. And it's an old habit.”

  He nodded towards a set of cabinets. “It's in the fridge.”

  I looked at all the cabinets, but I couldn't tell which one was the fridge. It had been camouflaged in to match the rest of the cabinetry too well.

  He passed by me, opened the one on the far right, and voilà! There was ketchup sitting on the door.

  “Just like at home,” I said, as he gave it to me.

  “Home. What is home like?”

  I sat at the table and ate my eggs. “Home is busy. It’s just me and Alexis, but that’s enough to keep things going.”

  “No family?”

  “Oh they’re around, just not at school. I grew up in upstate New York. They still live there. Well my stepmom, dad, and my little brother. Dunno where my real mom is these days.”

  “She’s not around?”

  “She’s nomadic. Never in one place for too long.”

  “Do you take after her in that way? You seem to like to travel.”

  I pushed the remaining eggs around of my plate. “I hope not. I don’t really want to be like her. But I can tell in some ways I am. I’m kind of terrible at being an adult.”

  “Being an adult is overrated sometimes.”

  I couldn’t agree more.

  I finished my plate in silence while Hudson whistled behind me and made himself breakfast. It was suddenly like we were a real couple, like those people you see in the movies. I was totally relaxed here, something I wasn't used to feeling.

  Hudson sat down next to me, and scarfed down quadruple the amount of eggs that I did in about half the time. “So, what would you like to do today?”

  “I don't know. Anything. I’d definitely like to go to the beach again. But I'd also like to see some of the sights in town, and just be part of the culture.”

  He nodded. “Well, how about we start the day by walking around town, then grab some lunch, and then go to the beach for the afternoon?”

  “That sounds perfect.”

  I finished the last morsels on my plate, and excused myself to go shower. Part of me wanted him to follow me, but the other part of me wanted just a moment of privacy. When I got out of the shower, in my own bathroom, I found a bright yellow dress packed for me with a matching hat. Whoever chose all my clothes certainly had that 1940s classic style down. But, then I thought that maybe that's what people wore when they went to Europe; it wasn't like I’ve ever been here before. I took my time getting ready. I wanted every hair to be perfectly in place, and when Hudson knocked on my door, I was surprised to see him looking very casual. It was the first time I had seen him out of his suit, and not naked. He stood there in a white polo and navy shorts, looking relaxed, and for the first time, happy.

  “I love that dress.”

  “I was just thinking how much I like your outfit. You look so calm, nothing like before.”

  He cocked his head to the side. “Really, because I've always found myself to be kind of a shorts man.” He had a smirk on his face that told me otherwise. I shook my head at him. He extended his hand, and I daintily gave him mine, allowing him to lead me down the stairs, and out the front door. I expected us to get into a town car again, but instead, there was a baby blue convertible sitting outside.

  “No way!” I couldn't believe what I was seeing. I had never ridden in a convertible before, and to go down the streets of France? It was all too unbelievable.

  “You like it?”

  I shook my head in disbelief. “Like it? I love it! This is going to be amazing.”

  “I hope you don't mind, but I had the butler pack your bathing suit and a few other essentials. I also had the cook put together a picnic basket.” I looked in the back seat, and sure enough, there was a bag packed for me for the beach, and there was the picnic basket with a bottle of wine sticking out of it. It was like a movie; this couldn’t be my real life.

  I walked over to him, and pulled him by the collar into me. Our lips met, and I was suddenly reminded of all the amazing moments from the night before. His lips touching my collarbone, his hands on my thighs; it had all been so in the moment and fantastic. I considered reliving all of it right there on the cobblestones, but I wanted to see more. I knew that Hudson had more to offer, just by demonstrating this little piece of heaven.

  He opened the door for me, and I sat down, feeling white leather under my fingertips. He drove off down the lane, and over a hill, past the ocean to get into town. I hadn't been able to see any of the views this way before, and it was spectacular. All these little buildings all squished together with signs for bread, pastries, and coffee. We drove slowly to the edge of town, and parked near a small garden overlooking the beach.

  “I figured we'd walk from here.”

  I gave him my hand as he led me out of the car. “Sounds good to me.” I reached in the back to grab my bag, but he got there first. He lifted the picnic basket and bag onto his shoulder, and we started to walk through the town. He tried to keep me on his arm, but I couldn't contain my excitement, pointing out different things and popping into shops when he wasn't paying attention. But he seemed to revel in my excitement. When I would mispronounce something, or not understand what they were saying, he would translate without even thinking about it. He didn't like to watch me struggle; it bothered him. I could tell by the look on his face. Something about him wanted to protect me, constantly. But what it was about me, I still wasn't sure. I still couldn't figure out why he picked me of all the girls in the club. Why was I so special? Nothing about me felt special. But to him, I was.

  We sat on some rocks on the beach with a blanket laid down underneath us. My hair whipped around my face as I reached for a sandwich.

  “What did you make?” I lifted a cloth wrapped snack out of the basket.

  “Chicken salad, but I didn’t make it. It’s safe, I promise.”

  “I love chicken salad.”

  “I know.”

  I was surprised. “How did you know?”

  He laughed. “I did a little research.”

  I took a bite out of the sandwich; it was delicious. “Homemade recipe?” I asked through a full mouth. He smiled again and placed his thumb across my lower lip, wiping the extra Greek yogurt away.

  “Yeah, it was my moms. I mean I'm sure she got it from someone else, but she made it all the time when I was a kid. It was one of my favorites, too.”

  “Your mom? You haven't talked much about your family. Especially not your mother. Why don’t you tell me about her?”

  He sighed. “There's not a lot to say. She was a typical trophy wife, though she gets along far better with my younger sister than she does with me. My parents were pretty young when they had me; my father was still starting out his career. They didn't have a lot of time for a child.”

  I shook my head. “But they had you. And, so far, you seem to have turned out okay.”

  He reached in the basket, pulled out a bot
tle of wine, and two glasses. “That's because you don't know me that well yet.”

  I held up the glass as he poured the deep red liquid into it. “What does that mean? If this isn’t who you are, then who are you really?”

  “If I told you that, you wouldn't stay.”

  “You don't get to make that choice. I do. So, tell me. Who do you think you really are?”

  He took a sip from his own glass and then studied me. “Why do you want to know so bad?”

  “I don't like a puzzle. I guess you could call me a little bit of a control freak. I like to know everything about everyone before passing any judgments. But you want me to judge you before I know anything about you. It doesn't really seem fair.”

  He set down his glass. “Fine. I don't think I have a single friend.”

  “Why's that?” I took another bite of my sandwich, as I thought about all the guys he seemed to pal around with at the club. How could he not consider any one of them a friend of his?

  “I used to have friends. I was the typical party boy when I was at boarding school. But then my father sat me down and told me that if I was going to amount to anything, I needed to become part of the business world, and stop all the fun and games. My friends were too young to understand, and kept doing stupid things. Things that were illegal, but they had big fancy lawyers who could get them out of anything. Well, almost anything.” He paused for a moment, and I could feel his history haunting him. “I haven't really met anyone since then that really gets what I'm trying to do in the world.”

  “What are you trying to do?”

  “Make something of myself. Money buys you happiness.”

  “That's not necessarily true.”

  He chewed on his lower lip for a moment. I'd never seen a guy looked so vulnerable in such a sultry way. His vulnerability turned me on. “Money bought me you.”

  I smiled. “And do I make you happy?”

  “You have no idea.” He put his glass back into the picnic basket, and wrapped his hands around my face, pulling me towards him. His lips crushed into mine, and he playfully bit on my lower lip. His hands moved back to the nape of my neck, and he rubbed back and forth. He held me against him so hard it felt like I couldn't breathe. But if I passed out right now, I'd be okay with it. I wanted Hudson James, all of him, all the time. His mere presence was intoxicating. When he pulled back, and I was finally able to breathe, I felt like I had far more than one glass of wine.

  He smiled at me. “So, since you asked me questions, I get to ask you something.”

  “That’s fair. What do you want to know?”

  “What happened with Judge Paxton?”

  Boston Buyer’s Club Rule #4

  Never Discuss Other Clients With Clients

  “I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

  “Come on, Calla. You can tell me anything. What really happened that night?”

  I couldn't tell him. There wasn't anything to tell. “I hardly knew the man. A detective showed up, and told me he was dead. I don't know anything.”

  “I heard his wife was in on it. That she wanted the insurance money. Do you think she did it?”

  “I don't know. I never met his wife. The only time I ever saw her was when she was talking on the news. Or when her lawyer was talking. And her poor kids… they all look so sad. But really, Hudson, I don't know anything about it. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  He squinted his eyes at me. “You're sure? He didn't say anything…”

  I took another bite of my sandwich, and shook my head. “Nothing. I don't want to talk about this anymore.”

  I finished my sandwich, and started to look for my beach bag to put on my bathing suit, and go to the water, where he couldn’t scrutinize me. Why had he ruined such a wonderful day with asking questions about subjects I knew nothing about?

  “Are you going to join me this time?”

  He shook his head. “I don't swim.”

  “Why not? It's so freeing to be out there in the water. To be part of something that huge.”

  “No I’ll just watch you.”

  “Is this part of your control situation? I think I'm a Type A personality, but you’re way worse than I am.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that, if something should happen, I don't think you would want to be rescued. I don't think that you feel like you can put your life in someone else's hands.”

  He just sat there and looked at me like I had said something so profound he didn't have words to match it. We stood in silence for a moment before he finally spoke. “And you call me the mysterious one. You really are something, Calla Hart.”

  “I try.”

  Chapter Three

  I spent the rest of the afternoon splashing in the water, and enjoying the sun on my pale skin. Boston was so cold and damp this time of year, it was just nice to get a break from the miserable weather. There weren't a lot of people on the beach though, so no one really bothered us as we talked about my school, and a little bit more about his family. It was a nice break from the rest of the world, but I knew that we had to return soon. After I got dressed and we arrived back at the cottage, I went upstairs to take a shower. I had to get the feeling of sand out from between my toes. Hudson stayed downstairs, claiming that he had to make a couple business calls before he made plans for dinner. I knew that we would have to go back to the States that night, but I wasn't ready for our magical weekend to be over. I wanted to stay in France, in Hudson’s arms, forever.

  I tiptoed downstairs, so I wouldn't bother him on the phone, and he didn't notice my presence until I pushed open the creaky door of his office. He was sitting with his back towards me looking out the front bay windows. He looked like he was really deep in thought. I walked over to him, and dragged my fingers along his exposed arm. I got close enough to whisper in his ear. “You made me shower alone. I would've liked the company.”

  He looked over at me, and put his hand over mine on his arm. He didn't look as amused as I was hoping.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “I have some bad news.”

  Bad news? So far it didn't seem like anything could go wrong on a perfect getaway. Why now, when things were winding down, did bad news have to come?

  “I've been called to Germany on business. I won’t be able travel back to the states with you.” He was so cold in his delivery. Nothing like he treated me over the rest of the weekend.

  “You mean, I'm going to have to travel back by myself?”

  He nodded. “I'm very sorry, Calla. But my plane will still take you, and you won't have to worry about dealing with the airlines or anything. We’re not terribly far from the airport, as you already know, so the travel will be simple.”

  He sounded so… professional. I wasn't sure how to react.

  “Fine. And what do we do from here? Do you call me?”

  He shrugged. “I'm not really sure. I have never brought a girl out of the club before.”

  The way he treated me: brushing the hair out of my face, the gentle gestures… had all been in my head. This was definitely still a business arrangement to him, when to me it had been so much more.

  “Wonderful. Well, I guess I will see you back in the States then. Maybe.” I turned on my heel and ascended the stairs, taking them two at a time. I wondered if he followed me, but I didn't turn around to find out. I couldn't let him see the tears streaming down my face.

  I threw everything into my borrowed Louis Vuitton suitcases as fast as I possibly could. I wanted to get to the plane, and quickly. That was certainly an advantage of taking a private plane: it could leave whenever I wanted. And I wanted to go. Now. I dragged the bag down the stairs myself, in a dramatic way, making sure that it slammed down on every step as I went down. I felt like I was being kicked out. I wasn't enough for Hudson. I had known it all along, but being slapped in the face like this is still strong. When I arrived to the bottom of the steps, no one came to my aid. I could hear Hudson
still in his study on the phone. He wasn’t even going to see me off. That was not how this was going to end. I wouldn't allow him to treat me this way.

  I walked over to the door, and was just about to swing it open, when I heard what his conversation was about. “No, of course she doesn't suspect. She just thinks that this is a business arrangement. Exactly what it is.” He paused as if listening to someone else on the other end of line. “Of course. She's returning to the States this evening. I'm sure you can speak with her then. I think you were right all along. A young girl looking to cash in. I think she had a hand in it but I don’t think she worked alone.” He stopped speaking again. “No I don’t have any concrete evidence. I know you were hoping for more information, but I don't have any.” He paused one final time. “No, I doubt I'll be seeing her again. Our deal is done here. Your favor is cashed in, Drake. Don't call me again.”

  The detective had called him? Was the only reason that I was here for some other type of business arrangement? Did Hudson even know how to live a normal life? I shook my head and considered just leaving, but the internal struggle was too real. I pushed open the door with both of my hands, and as it swung open, I saw him put his cell phone in his back pocket.

  “Are you going to tell me what that was about? Or is it just another one of your secrets?”

  There was panic written all over his face. “Calla, please. I promise it is not what you think it is.”

  “Then tell me what it is! Tell me everything, Hudson, because I swear to God, I feel like I only know you in bits and pieces. And now you want to go behind my back to make a deal with the detective?”

  “It's not like that.”

  “Then what is it like? You know I had nothing to do with the judge’s death. You saw me in the club that night. Did I look like I was about ready to murder somebody?”

  He rubbed his forehead with his hands. “No. The detective is an old friend of mine, and I owed him a favor. He asked me to get close to you, to see if you knew anything more. This case has gotten national headlines. They just want to make sure they're getting the right person.”