““Ms. Withers!” Trish followed after me. Hudson sat behind his sleek black desk, the phone cradled between his cheek and his shoulder with his fingers perched on his keyboard. He glanced first at me then behind me at Trish. “Hold on a moment, Landon,” he said into the receiver. He pushed the hold button. “It’s okay, Patricia.” I didn’t wait for the click of the door to shut behind Trish as she left. “Finish your phone call and meet me in the loft.” I was heading for the elevator at t...he back of the office. “And so you know, we’re gonna fight.” The private elevator went to Hudson’s loft—the bachelor pad where he and I had spent many of our first sexual encounters. I hadn’t been back there since he’d invited me to the penthouse, and while I would have expected a rush of nostalgia, I felt nothing but betrayal and rage. In the loft, I only had time to throw my bag on the couch before the elevator returned with Hudson.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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