“We should be having cocktails in London by now.”

“Have you tried her cell?” Harper was doing her damnedest to avoid his direct line of questioning. He wasn’t surprised she was covering for Allie, but it was getting him good and pissed off.

“Repeatedly. When did you last hear from her?”

“She called me . . .” She rubbed her eyes, then paused and let her hand flop to her side, the cuff of her robe swallowing her hand. “Wait, what day is it?”

“It’s the first of January,” he bit out.

“She called me yesterday morning.”

“What time?”

Harper frowned. “Early. Well, here it was early. Like six, I think.”

Hudson ran a hand through his hair while his mind recalibrated. He thought back to the previous morning on the train. Breakfast had been the first order of business after a night of unadulterated fucking on every surface of their cabin—against the cool window, his body pressed in behind her as they sped through the French countryside; on the floor, out of breath, but the thought of stopping a foreign concept wiped clean from their vocabulary; even those godforsaken bunk beds hadn’t been off-limits. On that train there’d been nothing but the two of them, even in a packed dining car. Or so he’d thought.

“What did she say?” Hudson waited impatiently for Harper to fill in the blanks. Her eyes darted around the room as if the desk or chair, or maybe even the curtains, could help her out. Jesus Christ, she needed to cut the avoidance crap and start giving him information. “I know you think you’re protecting your friend, but she was supposed to meet me three hours ago and she never showed.”

“Oh fuck,” Harper muttered as she sank down onto the navy-blue couch.

“My sentiments. Talk.”

“She wanted my help.”

“With?”

“She needed me to go to the brownstone and get something for her, said she’d have a ticket waiting for me at O’Hare and that she’d meet me at de Gaulle when I landed.”

“What else?”

“That was about it. The call was pretty short.”

“And at the airport?”

“Same thing. We only spoke for a few minutes.”

Hudson knew she was telling the truth about the call at least; he hadn’t been out of the cabin for very long. But he also knew that once the two of them got going, it was as if they were setting a new record for most words crammed into a solitary sentence. She had to know more. But the redhead had gone from clammed-up to shell-shocked. “What did she say?” he prompted. “Walk me through the conversation.”

“She was mostly thanking me and telling me about the reservations she’d made. Then she put me in a car and had the driver take me here. I should have called to check on her but I was so whacked, I passed out the minute I got to the room. Oh! Maybe she tried to call . . .” She shot up, snatched her cell off the table, and slid her thumb across the screen.

“Back up. What did she want you to get?”

Harper looked up and locked eyes with him. “Her engagement ring.”

“Why the hell would she want that?”

“She didn’t. Julian did.”

“Come again?” How typical, Hudson thought, for Harper to leave out the biggest fucking detail.

“He called her that morning, said he wanted it back and gave her some sort of ultimatum.” With a quick surge, Hudson strode to the window in an attempt to throw off his aggression. Every cell in his body screamed for him to pick up the chair, the lamp—hell, even the couch—and go all rock star on the room.

“I told her this wasn’t a good idea and that you needed to know what was going on, but she said she could handle it and—”

Hudson spun around. “Handle it?”

“—that it would all be over in a few hours and then she could get on with her life and she’d never have to see that bastard again.” Harper’s words came out rapid-fire. “I’m so sorry. I should have never agreed to help her. I knew better than to trust that asshole.”

He had his phone out before she’d even motored through her last sentence.

Max answered the call on the first ring.

“Bring the car around,” Hudson barked into the phone. “And I’ll need an address for Julian Laurent.” He started for the door at the same time Harper began flinging clothes out of her suitcase.

“Just give me a minute to get dressed.”

“I got this.”

“You’re crazy if you think I’m letting you walk out that door without me.” Harper’s brows were raised in a hard stare, her hands white-knuckling some colorful montage of clothing.

He blew out a resigned breath. “Then get the lead out.”

Chapter Four

Allie was sure she’d heard him wrong. Julian couldn’t have possibly been serious. After everything that had transpired between them, there was no way he could have deluded himself into thinking she would actually marry him.

“I want what was promised me,” he said, leaning forward in his chair. “What I’m owed. It would have all been mine, everything: the cable network, the newspapers, the magazines. Merged with my Asian and European holdings, Ingram would have been a global leader.”

“There are other media conglomerates, Julian.”

He shook his head. “Not like Ingram. Their assets are unique.” His bloodshot eyes roamed over her. Even in the dim afternoon light she could see his pupils dilate. “And while it’s hardly a pedigree, the Ingram name is as close to royalty as Americans get.”

“I don’t love you, Julian. And you’ve made it clear you don’t love me either.”

“Love is for fairy tales, Alessandra. It has no place in the real world. I would have thought your mother taught you that by example if nothing else.”

Allie stiffened. “I’m nothing like my mother.”

Julian’s head fell back on a harsh laugh. “Are you really so blind as to not see it? You’re exactly like your mother. And I’m not referring to your looks, although I guess I should be grateful the trophy glitters.” He ran a hand through his light brown hair, which fell perfectly back into place. “If it helps you sleep at night, consider our marriage a chance for you to carry on her legacy.”

“This isn’t the Dark Ages. You can’t force me to marry you.”

“That is correct.” He stroked his lip with his index finger. “The decision is ultimately yours. Although if you defy me, that video will find its way to the proper authorities.”

So this had been his plan all along. The race to return his ring was just the excuse to get her there so he could reveal his true end game.

Twisted amusement lit his eyes. “Don’t look so shocked, Alessandra. You didn’t really think I’d give up so easily, did you?”

“You don’t have to do this,” she said as if there were some way to reason with him.

“That is where you’re wrong, ma cherie. You left me with no other option.”

“Me?” The high pitch of her voice betrayed the raw emotions she struggled to control.

“Oui.” His gaze turned impassive. “After all, you are to blame for the deal falling apart in the first place. All of this—” he waved his hand through the air “—is your fault. You brought it on yourself when you broke our engagement.”

Allie looked down at her hands, balled into fists in her lap. “You attacked me.”

Julian snorted. “How did you think I would react when I discovered my fiancée had been whoring her way through the city in my absence? You should have been grateful I was willing to look past your indiscretions, but instead you chose a man who quite literally had been your servant. Another lesson your dear mother should have imparted: the staff is for fucking in the shadows, Alessandra, not parading through the lobby of the symphony.” He rattled the cubes inside the empty crystal tumbler. “Shame, really. If you had just left well enough alone, none of this unpleasantness would have been necessary. You’d be living here as the new Marquise Laurent, quite literally the queen of the castle; your precious Mr. Chase and his deadbeat brother wouldn’t be on the proverbial chopping block; and your parents would still be alive.”