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I frown. “How did… Did you follow me?”
His mother smiles.
It’s the only explanation I can think of. Either that or she’s got some scary ass psychic powers.
“I’ve been talking to Jenson. But I have to say, you did a good job. Had me fooled.”
“Excuse me?”
“The falling in love thing with my son. He put you up to this, didn’t he? How much did he pay you?”
Everything in me is white cold. The one thing I thought maybe I got right—helping Hudson get what he wanted—I clearly failed. “What are you talking about?”
“You’re not from the Meriweather family, and my son doesn’t believe in love.”
Shit. “That’s something you have to ask him. About the love, anyway. But don’t blame him. Don’t punish him. I only ever lied to him about my background and that was wrong, but…I did it to win him, to get him to see me.” Great, now I’m making him sound like the worst kind of snob. “But Hudson…he’s difficult and sometimes I want to scream, but I love him. I fell in love with him, and I lied to get the job, used my friend’s background and then…we got to know each other.”
She’s just looking at me, not saying a word and I’m…not lying…only omitting the contractual part of it because as I say this, it’s true. I did lie to get a job, and then we got to know each other, and then…
“I don’t know if Hudson will forgive me for my small lie to get the job. But everything else…him and me…it’s true, and he doesn’t deserve to lose out on family history, on something that means the world to him, because I screwed it up.”
“Scarlett?”
“Yes?”
She smiles, and it’s sweet and genuine, and my eyes blur all over again. Damn these stupid tears, anyway. “Have you told my son that?”
“No. He’s mad at me.”
“Maybe you should. While there’s time.”
She taps the glass and we take off and I’m too caught up in the wild ride of emotions inside to even question where we’re going until we stop.
I look out the window.
Hudson’s home.
“I…”
“I hope to see you again, Scarlett,” she says, with a nod to the door.
My fingers are ice as I open it, and as her car zooms away, I slowly turn and look at Hudson’s place.
At the very least, I need to tell him about what I did today.
I do think he’s worth it. And I now have to go do the hardest thing of all.
Face Hudson.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Hudson
The flames in my little-used fireplace in the drawing room I also barely use eat the paper.
I stare, getting nothing, not even grim satisfaction at watching the fucking unopened dossier on myself and the NDA and contract burn.
Scarlett hadn’t even bothered opening it. That’s how much of a terrible scam artist she is. Or is that good?
