It was time to put his plan in motion.
Chapter Twenty-five
Allie had never been to Venice. Rome, Milan, even Florence, but never to the waterfront municipality commonly referred to as the “floating city.” She loved the idea of visiting what was arguably one of Europe’s most romantic locations for the first time with the man she loved. Which was why she was so disappointed when they spent the majority of their one day in Venice sleeping off their jet lag.
Most travelers tried to sleep on the plane during their overnight flights, arriving the next morning well rested and acclimated to the time zone. But other than her one brief nap, there’d been no sleep aboard Hudson’s jet. Not that she was complaining. A smile curved her lips as she thought of their transatlantic flight and almost involuntarily she sought him out across the hotel lobby.
He was standing at the front desk speaking to the concierge. His back was to her, affording her the opportunity to admire his very fine, denim-clad backside. As smoking hot as Hudson Chase looked in a suit, there was just something about the way the man wore a pair of jeans that had her shifting in her chair.
As if hearing her wayward thoughts, Hudson turned. Judging by his expression, it was quite possible he had read her mind. That or he’d merely caught her checking out his ass. She watched him as he sauntered across the marble floor, marveling at how he managed to make even a simple pair of jeans and a cashmere sweater look so fucking sexy.
“You have that look on your face,” he said, his blue eyes lit with amusement.
“Which look is that?”
“The one that says you’d like me to check us back into the hotel.”
Allie blushed. “Tempting. But we’d miss our train.”
“Ready to go?”
She stood, gathered her purse and coat, and smiled. “Lead the way.”
Hudson placed his hand on the small of her back. But instead of guiding her to the front door of the hotel, where she’d half expected to find Max and an Italian security team waiting with an armored car, Hudson led her to the rear entrance.
“Aren’t we headed to the station?” Allie asked as they stepped out into the crisp morning air. The temperature hovered just under fifty degrees, but in the sun it felt much warmer.
“I thought we could take the canal.” He gestured toward a gondola waiting alongside the hotel’s dock. “Couldn’t have you leave Venice without experiencing their most famous form of transportation. I’m afraid it’s not as romantic as it would be at night, but—”
“It’s perfect.” Allie launched herself at him, throwing her arms around his neck and pulling him into a tight embrace.
Hudson steadied them and laughed. “I take it this was a good idea, then?”
She pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “It was a great idea. Thank you.”
His gaze softened. “I’d do anything for you,” he whispered. Then his mouth slanted over hers, kissing her long and slow and deep. Her arms tightened around his neck, holding him to her as their tongues stroked and their breaths quickened. His hand slipped inside her jacket and she felt the weight of his palm pressing against her back. She arched into him, wishing she could feel his bare skin against hers and wondering if it was too late to explore the idea of checking back into the hotel.
Behind her someone discreetly cleared his throat. Allie turned to find their gondolier gesturing to the boat. He was dressed in the traditional uniform of black pants, a black-and-white striped shirt, and a wide-brimmed straw hat with a red ribbon tied around the middle.
“Scusi, but the stazione,” he said in a mix of English and Italian.
Hudson glanced at his watch. “Grazie,” he thanked the gondolier, then to Allie he whispered, “We’ll continue this on the train.”
Warmth spread through her body at the silky, sensual tone of his voice. “I’ll hold you to that, Mr. Chase.”
His answering grin was almost boyish as he climbed gracefully onto the rocking boat. He held his hand out to Allie and she grasped it, somehow managing to climb into the gondola without tumbling into the canal.
“What about our luggage?” she asked as they settled onto a bench that was fashioned to look like a tufted red-velvet settee.
Hudson reached for the folded blanket on the table in front of them and draped it across their laps. “Max took it in the car. He’s meeting us at the station.”
Allie reared back to look at him. “No security? Aren’t you afraid ninja scuba divers might attack us?”
Hudson tried his best to hide his smile. “No, Alessandra, I’m not worried about ninja scuba divers. But we’re covered in the event that they do.” He nodded to the far side of the canal. Allie followed his gaze to a small motorboat driven by two rather imposing-looking men in dark jackets and aviator glasses.
She rolled her eyes. “I feel like I’m in a Bourne movie.”
Hudson chuckled. “Just enjoy the ride.” He wrapped his arm around Allie’s shoulders and pulled her tight against his chest as the gondolier took his place at the rear of the boat. With a smooth stroke of his oar, they began to glide forward through the water. He steered them effortlessly through the winding waterway, past hundreds of pastel buildings dating back as far as the fourteenth century, until they reached the terminal.
The Venezia Santa Lucia sat at the foot of the Grand Canal and served as the main train station in Venice. It was a modern building made of concrete and glass, which made it look more than a little out of place among the grand palazzos and hotels. Outside, dozens of people crisscrossed through the courtyard, and even from the dock Allie could see the large crowds milling about the expansive terminal. But once they reached the platform it was though she and Hudson had taken a step back in time.
With its restored 1920s vintage cars, the mere sight of the Venice Simplon-Orient-Express conjured images of the elegance, sophistication, and romance of a bygone era. The carriages themselves were nothing short of a rolling work of art. Painted a gleaming midnight blue, they were trimmed in gold and capped with a snowy white roof.
A row of stewards dressed in a livery of white jackets and gloves stood in a line alongside the train. As they approached, one stepped forward and greeted them by name.
“Mr. Chase, Miss Sinclair.” He bent slightly at the waist. “Welcome to the Orient Express. My name is Andrew and I will be your steward for the duration of your journey,” he said in a refined British accent. “Should you require anything at all, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
Allie smiled. “Thank you, Andrew.”
“We’ll be departing precisely at 10:57, where upon our chefs will preside over a three-course lunch in our Etoile du Nord dining car. If you’d like to go ahead and get a table, I can wait for your driver to arrive and see to it that your bags are delivered to your cabin suite.”
Hudson thanked the man with a generous tip before helping Allie up the steps of the dining car. The interior of the world’s best-known luxury train was a heady mix of prewar glamour. Varnished marquetry panels lined the walls of the car along with antique light fixtures and tapestry drapes. Along each side sat tables covered in starched white linen and surrounded by dark green velvet chairs. The crystal goblets sparkled in the late morning sun, and the silver was polished to a high shine. Everything was ready to whisk one hundred travelers on a mystical journey through the Italian Dolomites and the Swiss Alps.