: Chapter 24

“Hudson, put your phone down,” Sloane says, her hand moving up my chest as we lie in bed.

“I’m just checking to see if Hardy has found anything.”

“You’ll hear your phone if he has. Just…just relax for a moment. You’re going to drive yourself insane waiting.”

I set my phone down and blow out a frustrated breath. “Sorry. I’m just on edge.”

“How can you possibly be on edge after what we just did?”

I smirk, thinking about how I just fucked Sloane up against the window of our hotel room, high off the fact that people could see us. “Just am.”

“Okay, well, maybe we think of something else.”

“Sure,” I say, turning toward her. I slide my palm up her stomach to her breast. “Let’s play.”

“Slow down there, sir,” she says, pushing my hand away. “You’re going to need to give me a second or else you’ll make me raw, and is that something you really want?”

“Raw?” I raise a brow. “Is that really a thing?”

“I have no idea,” she answers. “But I can imagine it being a thing, so let’s just…I don’t know, talk.”

“I’d prefer to have my face between your legs.”

“Understandable. It’s a great place to be. I often found my hand hanging out there before you came along, but I think we need to have a conversation.”

“You want to have a conversation? Fine, how often was your hand between your legs?”

She rolls her eyes but props her head up with her hand. “Maybe every other night. I like to come, so I wasn’t shy about it. There were times where I would use my hand because I enjoyed the challenge, but most of the time I used a vibrator. But I clearly don’t need to worry about that with you around.”

“You better not. If you want to come, you find me.”

“What if you’re in a meeting?” she asks with a smirk. “Should I just walk up to you and say, ‘Mr. Hopper, your assistant needs to come’?”

“No.”

She laughs. “That doesn’t seem very adventurous.”

“We are not fucking in the office.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” she asks.

“There’s no fun in it.”

“Wow, okay.” She blows out a breath, causing a piece of her hair to fly up and then back against her cheek. “We might not even be married at that point though, so I guess it’s fine.”

The way she so casually talks about us not being together anymore grates on my goddamn nerves. I’d prefer that she doesn’t think about the future when it comes to us. Because I don’t know what the future entails, but there’s one thing I know for certain, I’m not ready to let go just yet.

“Talking about divorce again, Sloane?” I ask with a dark tone in my voice.

“Uh…” She taps her chin. “No, I don’t think so. Did it sound like divorce? I can’t recall.”

“It did,” I answer, gripping her chin.

She smiles. “My mistake.” Then she moves on top of my chest, her bare breasts pressing against my skin. I move my hand to her ass, where I possessively keep it. She drags her finger over my jaw. “You’re so handsome.”

“That’s the kind of thing you should be saying.”

“I’m serious. So handsome. I remember the first time I saw you in Bora Bora for Jude’s wedding. I was awestruck.”

“Awestruck, huh?”

She nods. “Very. I told Stacey how hot you were. I was pining hard, despite knowing I would never have a chance to be with you.”

“And you went and got a job with me?”

“Well, I was desperate for the job. I needed something to gain experience, and I wasn’t landing anything. Well, anything of substance, so yeah, I took the job with you.”

I round my hand over her ass as she wets her lips.

“Did you ever think I was pretty?”

“I didn’t let myself look at you,” I answer honestly.

“You didn’t?”

I shake my head. “No, because I got one look at you at the wedding, when you were at the reception, dancing with your sister, so fucking carefree, like not a thing in the world could hurt you, and I felt that freedom all the way to my soul. The joyous smile on your face, the happiness in your eyes—it was such a brief glimpse, but one that hit me in a way I’ve never felt before. And I knew you were trouble. Immediately knew it. So I kept my eyes down.”

“Well, that’s sad,” she says with a pretend pout of her lips. “Because I worked hard picking out the outfits I wore to the office, and to hear they were wasted is upsetting.”

“Trust me, they weren’t wasted.”

Her brow quirks up. “No? You snuck a peek every once in a while?”

“Yeah,” I say on a sigh. “I would. Then I would chastise myself.”

“Because you wanted me?”

I roll my teeth over the corner of my lip. “Yes, I did.”

“Mm, I like knowing that. The pervy old man, watching over his assistant.”

“Can you not call me that?”

She laughs, and I fucking love the sound, despite it being directed at me. “You know I’m kidding. I don’t think you’re pervy.”

“Or old.”

“Ehh, that’s debatable.”

“Pretty sure an old man wouldn’t have been able to fuck you the way I did a few moments ago.”

“Oh sure, it’s not like you did much work. I was the one doing everything.”

I pull away, blinking a few times, making her laugh even more. “I was holding you up and fucking you against a window. If I were an old man, I would have broken a hip.”

“I did hear some cracking…”

“Shut the fuck up.”

She laughs some more, and I try to move her away from me, but she hangs on tight and starts kissing my jaw. “No, don’t push me away. I take it all back.” She kisses some more and then works up to my nose where she kisses me there as well. “You’re not old. You’re young and spry and have a very delicious cock.”

That sparks my interest. “Delicious?”

“Oh yes.” She nods. “Very. Love having it in my mouth.”

That’s a fact. Anytime we start to get intimate, I always find her mouth between my legs, and I fucking love it.

“Well, I love that dirty mouth of yours.” I drag my thumb over her lip.

“Have you ever had better head? And don’t lie to me. If you have, tell me what she did.”

I chuckle and shake my head. “No, babe, you’re it.”

“It as in…the only one who has ever given you head?”

I roll my eyes. “No. But the only one that I dream about fucking in the mouth day in and day out.”

That brings a satisfied smile to her lips. “Oooh, that’s a crown I like wearing.”

“Good.” I move my thumb over her cheek, her pretty eyes sparkling under the dim light.

“Now that we established that you’re not old, possibly a little pervy with the mouth fucking, and that I’m the best that you’ve had your dick in, not to mention that you seem to enjoy calling me babe every now and again, I want to know more about you, like…what’s your favorite band, music… Do you even listen to music?”

“No. Don’t like music.”

She raises herself up, her expression clearly disturbed. “What kind of psychopath are you? Who doesn’t like music?”

I chuckle. “I’m kidding. I like pretty chill stuff.”

“Okay.” She blows out a heavy breath. “Jesus, that was going to be a problem. What do you mean by chill? Like Nora Jones? Maybe Kenny G?”

“Christ, who likes Kenny G?”

Her mouth falls open in shock as she fully pulls away and picks up the blanket to cover her breasts.

“Uh, I like Kenny G.”

“Stop.” I shake my head and attempt to pull on her blanket because I don’t like her covering herself up, but she holds it close.

“I’m not kidding.”

“Sloane. Be serious.”

“I am being serious. Kenny G is a gift on the saxophone, an instrument that doesn’t get enough credit anymore, I might add.”

“Sloane…”

“Hudson…”

I stare at her, waiting for her to break, to tell me she’s kidding, but when she holds steady, I slowly realize that maybe in fact she’s not joking around.

“You really like Kenny G?”

“Yes, and I find it incredibly insulting that you think I was joking.”

“Then prove it.”

“Prove my love for Kenny G?” she asks.

“Yeah…babe…prove it.”

Her eyes narrow and she crosses her arms, locking her blanket in place. “Okay.” She clears her throat. “Kenneth Bruce Gorelick was born June 5, 1956, and despite his clearly old age, he has mastered the electric sound of the saxophone, which he started playing at the age of ten.” Oh shit, she was serious. “Mr. G has sold over seventy-five million records globally, his 1992 album, Breathless, being his best seller, followed by his Christmas album, Miracles. Not only can he successfully blow air into a brass instrument and create music, but he’s also a producer and most notably worked on soundtracks like The Bodyguard. Uh yeah, you heard that right, that Whitney Houston movie. He was an early investor in the Starbucks chain, is an aircraft pilot, and is an avid golfer with a handicap of +0.6.”

I drag my hand over my cheek. “I think you know more about him than you do about me.”

“Because he actually cares to share his life, unlike you, who says you like chill music but can’t put a name to such chill music, therefore, not sharing a damn thing.”

“Okay, okay.” I rub her bare leg. “You’re getting worked up.”

“Yes, because you said you didn’t believe that I loved Kenny G and I’m not lying. I love him. I like his curly hair and the way he feels the music he’s playing and the sound of it. I love everything about him, and I wish more people would get their heads out of their asses and notice his talents, not just shuffle him away because he’s a product of the early eighties. Did you know his net worth is over one hundred million? Yeah, Hudson, one hundred million. That’s nothing to put your nose up about. So…check your attitude.”

“Okay, shhhh,” I say, attempting to calm her down. “The attitude is checked.”

“Is it though? I feel like you’re just trying to be nice right now. You know what? We’re going to listen to him, right here, right now.” She reaches over to her nightstand, where she grabs her phone and starts tapping away on it. Then she looks me in the eyes and says, “This is ‘Songbird,’ and if you haven’t heard this yet, you are dead to me. Your dick will never see the light of day in my mouth ever again.”

Jesus Christ.

I perk up and pray that even if I haven’t heard it, I can at least be convincing enough to fake it.

“And I’ll know if you’re lying.”

She sets the phone between us and stares me down while the soothing sound of eighties smooth jazz filters into the room, instrumentals I cannot recognize for the life of me playing, making me panic. And then after a few seconds of intro, Kenny G comes in with his saxophone, a familiar tune that I’ve definitely heard before.

“Hey, I know this song.”

“Do you really?” she asks skeptically.

“Yeah, I do.” And then, to prove it to her, I hum along with the song, what little I do know, and I watch a smile creep over her lips before she tackles me on the bed and moves over the length of my body.

“Oh my God, I’ve never found you hotter than right now.”

I laugh as I stare up at her.

“Fuck me. Fuck me hard, Hudson.”

She doesn’t have to ask me twice…

Our heads hang off the end of the bed, sheets rumpled around us, Kenny G still playing in the background.

I can barely catch my breath as Sloane pretends to smoke an imaginary cigarette.

Jesus.

Christ.

I…I can’t feel my goddamn legs.

I don’t even think I know where I am at the moment as the light starts to return to my eyes.

“That was the best sex of my life,” Sloane says, breathless.

How she’s even able to talk right now is beyond me—the girl put in the work.

“We will always have sex with Kenny G now.”

When she puts it like that…

“No, Sloane.” I turn to her, placing my hand on her stomach. “That was, fuck, that was amazing, but I’m not about to be triggered to arousal every time I hear Kenny G. Not fucking happening. It’s bad enough that when I hear a saxophone, I’m going to think of your cunt coming all over my cock.”

She smiles and cups my cheek. “Awww, are you really?”

“Yes.”

“Then my work here is done.” She hops out of bed as if I didn’t just rail her a few seconds ago and moves into the bathroom where she cleans up.

I shift out of bed and check my phone, but there’s nothing from Hardy, so I move toward the bathroom just as Sloane starts exiting.

“Oooh, hello there.” She kisses my chest. “I’m starving. Can I order some room service?”

“Order whatever you want.”

“Thank you, Husband.”

To my displeasure, she slips on her robe and moves into the living room, where I hear her ordering soft pretzels. I clean up in the bathroom, splash some water on my face, then slip on a pair of boxer briefs before heading into the living room where Sloane is hanging up the phone.

“I ordered a few things. Hope that’s okay.”

I sit next to her and place my hand on her bare thigh. “That works.”

“Will you eat with me?”

“As long as I can have you for dessert,” I say.

“Says the guy who was gasping for air a few seconds ago.”

“Babe, you fucked me while hanging on to the headboard and bouncing up and down. Your tits were, fuck, I’m going to get hard just thinking about it.”

She chuckles. “I gave you a show, did I?”

“Yeah, you did.”

“Well, looks like this wife knows what she’s doing.”

“She does.” I lean in and press a sweet kiss on her lips. She lightly moans and cups the back of my neck and moves on top of my lap.

Christ.

I slip my hands inside of her robe, pressing them against her bare waist as her hands filter into my hair, kissing me harder.

When she pulls away, I feel drugged.

Light-headed. Although, I’m now doubting my intelligence for pushing her away physically for so long. I feel fucking amazing.

She kisses the tip of my nose and then slides her hands down to my pecs. “Tell me something about you.”

“What do you want to know?” I ask, feeling like an open book.

“What did you want to be when you were growing up? And you can’t say something like…take over your dad’s business. Like what was the thing you wanted to be as a kid?”

“A deli worker.”

“What?” She laughs, her smile stretching from ear to ear. “A deli worker?”

“Yeah, I was fascinated by the big meat slicers, and I thought it was cool. I wanted to be the one who sliced the meat.”

“Oh my God, Hudson.” She pats my chest. “That’s the cutest thing I’ve ever heard. Did you ever get to slice the deli meat?”

“I did. I actually bought myself a meat slicer a few years ago and a giant turkey breast. I sliced it up and gave everyone two pounds.”

“No, you didn’t.”

I nod slowly. “I did. This was during a time when I was bored out of my mind, not particularly challenged because my dad wasn’t giving up control, and well…decided I’d live out a fantasy I thought I’d never see.”

“Aww, that’s kind of…”

“Sad?”

“Maybe a little,” she says with a pinch to her fingers. “But also, sweet in a way. A thirty-year-old man handing out pounds of sliced meat. That’s…nice.”

“Is it though?” I ask with a wince.

“I mean, were you wearing an apron that said meat delivery?”

“No.”

“Seems like a missed opportunity to me.”

I chuckle. “Yeah, maybe it was.” I squeeze her waist. “What about you, what did you want to be when you were younger? Can’t possibly be the wife to your boss.”

“Actually, when I was five, I announced to the world that if my boss didn’t put a ring on my finger, then I’d burn everything to the ground.”

“Wow, a very mature five-year-old.”

“What can I say?” She shrugs. “I am special.”

“You don’t have to tell me.”

She smiles sweetly. “But, you know, if I did end up burning things to the ground, I would have settled for being a geologist.”

Now that surprises me. “Rocks?” I ask.

She nods. “Yup. Rocks. I was obsessed, well, still kind of am. I have a collection. It’s not very big because did you know rocks can be expensive?”

“How? They’re free.”

“Not like…rocks you can find on the ground while taking a walk. Although I’ve found some pretty great ones that way, but more like rocks that are unique to other regions, the kind of rocks that you have to dig for or search to find. Like amethyst and malachite and fluorite. The rocks you see at rock stores that are all polished and pretty.”

“Oh, okay. Did you have books on rocks?”

“I got this one from the library that I’d check out over and over until one day, the librarian gave it to me. Told me I was the only person who ever wanted to look at it, so she wanted to make sure it went to a good home. Funnily enough, it was one of very few personal items I brought with me to your house.”

“You did?” I ask, feeling surprisingly touched.

“I did. It’s sort of a comfort thing for me at this point. Anyway, yeah, rocks.”

I rub my thumbs over her soft skin and tilt my head to the side as I say, “I find that incredibly adorable.”

“Adorable?” Her nose scrunches up. “I don’t think I want you thinking of me in that way. I only want you to think of me as sexy, hot, a temptress. Not adorable.”

“Adorable is a good thing, makes you more human.”

“Do you want me to find you adorable?”

“As long as you find me, that’s all I care about.”

“Such a smooth talker,” she says. Although I don’t think she realizes how honest I just was. I haven’t sat and shared stuff like this with anyone…ever. There’s never been time for talking when all I’ve thought about is business. Even when I’ve bedded women, they’ve known what they were there for, and it wasn’t to talk. She’s Jude’s sister, so it makes sense that I find it easy to talk to her. But I also think it’s because she’s Sloane. Sweet, sexy, and adorable Sloane.

“So are you going to leave me some day to become a geologist?” I ask.

Her expression falls as she shakes her head. “I would need a plan of what I want to do with my life in order to leave, and unfortunately for me, I didn’t go to school for geology.”

“Why not?”

“Didn’t know if it was something that could help my family. I majored in business and assumed that the career opportunities were vast, more chances at scoring a job.”

“That makes sense. I can understand that feeling probably more than you would expect.”

Just then, there’s a knock at the door. Our food is here.

I carefully move her off me and say, “Cover up.”

I open the door for in-room dining and allow them to roll the cart up to the couch, where Sloane has her legs tucked under her, not showing off a damn thing. Such a good girl.

I tip the server, thank him, and shut the door as Sloane lifts off the covers to the food.

Soft pretzels with cheese.

Truffle fries.

And…oddly a salad.

Wouldn’t expect her to order a salad; then again, I could see her ordering it for me.

“Oh my God, these pretzels are incredible,” Sloane says midchew. “I want to share, but also, I kind of don’t.”

I take a seat next to her and drape my arm along the back of the couch. “Yeah, you’re going to have to share.” I pluck one of the pretzels from the plate and dip it in the sauce. When I bring the pretzel up to my lips, I watch her act cutely shocked that I would take one of her pretzels. “Mmmm, delicious,” I say after taking a bite.

“Wow, and here I thought you lived by the motto happy wife, happy life.”

“I do. If I’m properly fed, I’ll have the energy to properly pleasure you, which makes you happy.”

“I don’t know, I’m thinking this pretzel is better than sex right now.”

“Yeah, I’m thinking this pretzel is better than your pussy.”

She gasps, which makes me laugh.

“Don’t shoot fire if you can’t handle it coming right back at you,” I say.

“You know, just for that, no more sex for you,” she replies with a lift of her chin.

“Good luck keeping my cock out of your mouth.”

“Hudson Hopper!” Her lips tilt up at the corners. “Sir, what has gotten into you? You’re so lively and…and comedic.”

“That’s what happens when you tear down my walls.”

“Aww.” She presses her hand to her heart. “You saying you can be yourself around me?”

“Yeah…I think I can.”

“I don’t think we wore the right thing,” Sloane whispers from the corner of her mouth.

I glance down at her leggings and crop top, and then to the ladies dressed in full Regency-style dresses with empire waistlines, pale hues, and lace.

“Um, yeah, I don’t think we got the memo.”

“We look like fools, especially you.”

“You’re the one showing midriff,” I counter.

“And you’re the one in joggers, a T-shirt, and a paisley floral ascot.”

Which is nearly choking me to death.

“What was I supposed to say when the guy twice my age with the bushy eyebrows told me to wear it?”

“I don’t know, tell him no?”

“I panicked,” I say.

“Not a very Hudson Hopper thing for you to do.”

“I panic all the time; I just don’t show it.”

“Well, it’s showing in the form of a cravat today.”

“Are we paying attention?” our instructor asks, snapping her fingers at us.

“Yes,” I say, straightening up.

“Then please repeat what I just said.”

Shit.

I can feel my cheeks flame at being caught red-handed not paying attention.

“Uh, to not step on each other’s toes.”

“Solid guess,” Sloane whispers to me.

“No,” Mary Beth snaps. “I said the first thing you do when the music starts is…”

She holds her hands out and the rest of the class—in unison I might add—says, “Bow and curtsy.”

“Right,” I say. “Sorry about that.”

“Best pay attention,” Mary Beth says with an evil eye directed at me specifically. “Now.” She holds up her hands, both holding conductor sticks, and continues, “Curtsy, then promenade.”

Sloane and I turn to each other, her lips twitching in humor as she curtsies and I bow to her. Then we move side by side and connect hands at each other’s lower backs. She puffs her chest, I straighten up, and then we each slide a foot forward, then tiptoe on two. Slide, tiptoe. Slide. Tiptoe.

“Remember the day when you offered me up to Sheridan and Archie like a piece of meat, saying I could fill in as a bridesmaid?” Sloane asks.

“Yes,” I say.

“Well, I hope you’re happy. You did this to us.”

I trip over my feet, losing the rhythm.

“Hudson,” Mary Beth calls out. “Stay in time with the music.”

“I’m trying,” I say, but because Sloane keeps moving as well as everyone else around us, I can’t seem to catch up, and Mary Beth ends up tapping her sticks on the lectern in front of her.

“Stop, stop, stop. We must start over. Positions.”

“Christ,” I mumble as we move back to where we started.

“It’s not that hard, Hudson,” Sloane whispers.

“Says the girl who keeps talking to me. Let me concentrate.”

“As you wish, Husband,” she says with a smirk.

“Everyone in position, and let’s begin.”

The music plays from the beginning again, and I reach for Sloane, but instead of her hand connecting with mine, my hand smacks into her head as she curtsies in front of me.

“You have to bow,” Mary Beth yells from her perched position.

“Fuck, right,” I say, dragging my hand over my mouth in frustration while Sloane rubs the side of her head.

“That was most unpleasant, my lord,” Sloane says in a British accent.

“Can you not, please.”

“Just getting into character.”

“From the top,” Mary Beth calls out while everyone grumbles. “Bow and promenade.”

The music starts again, and I bow this time, then connect hands with Sloane, and together, we dance, shuffling around in a circle until we reach our original position. Christ, we did it.

“Keep going,” Mary Beth shouts.

So we continue to shuffle and tiptoe, my goddamn calves burning as we move over the uneven slate flooring of the church turned dance studio.

“You’re doing it. I’m so proud, my lord.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“You can say my lady if you want.”

“Stop talking, Sloane.” I concentrate on my footwork.

“Head up, Hudson,” Mary Beth calls out.

“Nope,” I shoot back to her as I stare at the ground, really concentrating.

“She doesn’t like you.”

“I couldn’t care less,” I say just as Mary Beth taps her stick on her lectern.

“Gather hands, everyone, and circle.”

Sloane effortlessly parts from me, takes my hand and then moves toward the man behind her and takes his hand as well. Following her lead, I do the same.

And, boy oh boy, is this lady’s hand moist.

The moist of all moist.

So moist that all I can think about is just how moist.

And warm.

So warm.

Bacteria-type warm.

Warm and moist.

“Move,” Sloane says, but it’s too late. The group piles in behind me while moist hand tugs on me, causing me to jolt forward, right into her back.

And like a domino effect, one right after the other, we all tumble forward, falling to the ground.

Pleated dresses rumple around.

Pressed suits crinkle.

And perfectly coiffed hairdos are tampered with while we all roll around together, trying to gain our bearings.

“What on earth?” Mary Beth shouts as we all struggle to stand.

“It was him,” a man says, pointing at me.

“He’s ruining everything,” a woman says as she pushes down on her breasts, which are close to being exposed.

“He can’t even bow.”

“I can bow,” I say defensively.

“Ehhh,” Sloane says, not helping my case.

“Everyone, take a quick five while I have a conversation,” Mary Beth says while moving away from her lectern.

I help up Sloane and attempt to help some other dancers, but they ignore me, sticking their noses up. Uh, I think they’re failing to remember that everyone starts from somewhere and that at one point in their lives, they weren’t these dancers with magical footwork.

It wouldn’t hurt them to remember that.

Mary Beth ushers me and Sloane off to the side and turns her back to the group as she speaks. “You are not taking this seriously.”

“Yes, I am.”

“You are not. I can see it in your eyes that you think this is ridiculous,” she accuses.

“Uh, I think it’s ridiculous that we’re not afforded any mistakes.”

“This is not for beginners.”

“This…” I pause and then turn toward Sloane. “What class is this?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. The Wimbachs signed us up. Although I seem to be picking it up just fine.”

“You are quite lovely probably, given the experience Sheridan told me about,” Mary Beth says to Sloane. “Hudson, on the other hand, you might need to sit out.”

“I’m not sitting out. Just give me a second to learn and it will be fine.”

Being bad at something, not what I enjoy.

If she would just give me a goddamn second, I can get ahold of this.

Mary Beth steps in closer and whispers, “The dancers are getting irritated.”

“Yeah, I can sense that,” I whisper back. “And as someone who is the CEO of a company, the people beneath you feed off your energy. So maybe instead of being irritated and hostile toward me, you encourage everyone around us to put on a freaking smile and help a guy dance with his wife.”

From the corner of my eye, I can see Sloane smile. “It would mean so much to me if everyone cut Hudson some slack.”

“This class is really for you, Sloane. He’s not the one dancing in the wedding.”

“Do you not believe in allowing couples to experience joy together?” I ask. “We’re keeping the romance alive over here. I know I’m not involved in the wedding, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to learn with my wife. You don’t know us. Maybe this is something we want to do alone in our home when we get back to the States. Ever think about that?”

“Will you?” she asks.

“Yeah, my shoes with the buckles and my white tights are being shipped right now.”

Her eyes narrow and her chin lifts. “This is not a joke.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Can you please just offer us some grace here? I know that Archie and Sheridan are probably forking out good money for this, meaning, I’m sure you’re going to want a positive review.”

Her eyes narrow further. “Are you threatening me?”

“I’m asking you for patience,” I say, growing impatient myself.

“Fine.” She turns away from us and claps her hands. “Everyone, we’re going to start from the beginning and cover some of the basic steps. Our esteemed Hudson would like to keep the romance alive with his young wife. From the top.”

Everyone groans and offers me looks of pure annoyance and hatred.

Grumbling under my breath, I say, “She is not getting a good review.”

“She was not my favorite human,” I say, breaking the silence in the car.

“I could tell,” Sloane says. “You didn’t say bye to her. Talk about a snub.”

“She didn’t deserve it. She was rude.”

“I think it was because you kept forgetting to bow.”

“Who needs to bow?” I nearly yell as the car pulls up to the club. “This isn’t the eighteen hundreds. Why is bowing necessary?”

“Part of the culture and tradition, Husband.”

“Yeah, well, it was ridiculous.”

Our driver parks the car and then rounds to my side, where he opens up the door. I step out first and hold out my hand to Sloane, who changed into a light pink dress in the bathroom while I changed into a suit. With briefs.

We’re meeting Archie and Sheridan at the club, as well as Terrance, Sheridan’s dad. It was a last-minute request that I wasn’t going to turn down. But now that I’m frazzled from Mary Beth, I feel uneasy. Also, I’m hating the time difference between me and Hardy right now because I’m dying to know what is going on with the lawyers.

I’m tense.

I’m unsure of everything.

And I’m irritated that dancing around in a circle was harder than I expected it to be.

Watch, Devin is probably some master at the footwork because he doesn’t have anything better to do with himself than dance alone in his apartment, thinking about and yearning for Sloane.

“Hey,” Sloane says, squeezing my hand. “You’re really tense.”

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t seem fine.”

“Trust me, I’m⁠—”

“Hey, you guys.”

No.

Absolutely not.

No fucking way.

I lift my head just in time to see Devin walk up to us with a shit-eating grin and a pep in his stupid, unwelcoming step.

What the hell is he doing here?

“Hey, Devin,” Sloane says as he walks up to her and kisses her on the cheek.

This motherfucker.

I clench my hand into a fist at my side as he says hi to Sloane, then turns toward me for a handshake.

For a brief moment, I envision my fist plowing through his stomach, but I keep it together and shake his hand, pulling together one of the fakest smiles I’ve ever been able to muster.

“Dillon, good to see you.”

“Devin. It’s Devin,” he says.

“Oh shit,” I say on a playful laugh. “Sorry, man.”

Actually, I’m not sorry.

Not sorry in the slightest.

“You headed to the club?” he asks, pointing behind us.

“Yes.” I slip my arm over Sloane’s shoulders. “Going to have dinner with Archie and Sheridan and her father.”

“Yeah, me too,” Devin says.

Uhhh…how the hell does that work?

I clear my throat and say, “Don’t you need to be a member to be granted access? And don’t you need to be married to be a member?”

“Terrance actually invited me, used one of his one-time passes.”

“That was nice,” I say through clenched teeth. A one-time pass would have been nice to know about, although that would have only granted me access once and to secure a deal, it isn’t always about the first impression—it’s about multiple impressions over time.

Devin pats his suit jacket and says, “Brought him some expensive cigars as a thank-you. Glad I can spend the evening with you guys as well. We can catch up, Sloane.”

“We can,” she says, but minus the joyful tone that’s in his voice.

“Well, then, I guess we shouldn’t make our hosts wait much longer for us.” I gesture toward the doors. “Lead the way, Devin.”

We enter the club, and because Devin is a guest, he’s pulled into the welcoming room, while Sloane and I slip right in. I am sure to pull her toward the stairs and straight up to the bar where I know Archie and Sheridan are waiting.

“I can feel the anger pouring off you,” Sloane whispers.

And because she’s right, I pull her to the side, off in a corner, and whisper, “Where the fuck does he come off just…coming to the club, as if there aren’t requirements to grant access?”

“It sounds like Terrance invited him.”

“Why? He offers no value to society.”

“Hudson, he’s studying to be a surgeon.”

“Doesn’t make him a good person.”

“Do you think this club is full of good people?” she asks. “Elite clubs like this are usually full of the opposite.”

“This club was founded on philanthropy. But either way, he doesn’t belong here, and why are you defending him?”

“I’m not defending him. I’m trying to get you to calm down.”

“Getting me to calm down by suggesting his presence is not a big deal is not calming me down. You need to join in my anger.”

“Okay.” She clears her throat before her expression morphs into displeasure. “That motherfucker, showing up here, to our sacred spot where I poked your balls for the first time. How the fuck dare he? I demand he be kicked out. I demand he write us an apology letter. I demand he gets put on a plane and sent back to the States immediately because hell will freeze over before I share another breath of oxygen with that man. Freeze over!” She pumps her fist to the air, while I stare at her, completely unamused.

“The sarcasm isn’t hitting.”

“Really?” she says. “Because I thought I just slayed.”

“There you two are,” Sheridan says, walking up to us. “We were informed that you arrived.”

We both plaster on smiles while we greet each other and then Sloane says, “Just talking dirty to each other over here in the corner.”

Jesus Christ.

Sheridan smirks. “Oh?”

“Got to keep the romance alive, you know?”

“Very admirable. Um, not to change the subject, but how was the dance class today?”

“Good,” Sloane answers. “Great actually. I think I only need about one more and I should be good to go. I can practice with the bridal party once everyone arrives.”

“Really?” Sheridan asks, hopeful.

“Really,” Sloane says.

Sheridan lightly claps her hands as Archie walks up as well. “This is so exciting.” Sheridan lets out a low breath as Archie puts his arm around her and greets me with a nod. “To be honest, I’ve been kind of nervous about this entire situation. I mean, who really hires someone to be a bridesmaid? I’ve felt awkward and weird and at times embarrassed, but knowing you felt good about the dances today, that…that really gives me so much relief.”

Sloane steps up and takes Sheridan’s hand. Looking her in the eyes, she says, “I need you to not think that way…ever again. There is nothing awkward or embarrassing about having me in the wedding. Things happen, and your friend breaking her leg was unpredictable and unfortunate. I’m just glad I can step in and help. Trust me when I say this is an honor, to be a part of a day full of love and tradition. I’m grateful to be here in London with my husband, I’m grateful to have made a new friend, and I can’t wait to watch you two celebrate the love you have for each other. Please, don’t fret another moment over bringing me into the wedding party. This is a joyous occasion, let’s keep it that way.”

Wow.

Fucking wow.

That was…

Sheridan nods, tears filling her eyes before she pulls Sloane into a hug.

Archie smiles at me and then reaches out his hand. I shake it in greeting just as I hear, “This is the girl filling in as a bridesmaid?”

We all turn to find Terrance, standing there in a smoking jacket, his hand in the front pocket and his other hand twisting the end of his gray mustache.

“Papa,” Sheridan says as she steps aside. “This is Sloane.”

Not attempting to move, Terrance gives Sloane a brief once-over before saying, “Well, Sloane.” He holds his arm out to her. “I think after that speech, you and I need to get to know each other better. Come.”

Sloane slips her arm through Terrance’s, and I watch them walk off toward the back deck that looks over the lawn while I stand there stunned.

Just fucking stunned.

Because my wife very well might have just helped me out more than she will ever realize.