Her thumb had just pressed the lock button when she heard a soft ping. His answer was equally direct.
I want you.
A feeling of warmth spread through her. Before she had a chance to reply, another message from Hudson popped up on the screen.
Did you and Colin have a nice lunch?
What? How the hell did he know about that? Was he at Ingram HQ while she was holed up in her office with Colin? She was about to ask when her phone lit up again.
That color looks lovely on you, by the way.
Her mouth popped open. You can see me?
Yes.
How? A thought occurred to her and she quickly typed a follow-up question. Did you buy a telescope?
No.
Then how?
I may have procured some equipment from my recently assembled team.
Stalker.
Just utilizing available technology. Lift your skirt.
Pervert.
Do it.
Why?
Because I’ve been wondering all day if you’re wearing garters.
Maybe.
Show me, Alessandra. Now.
It was just a text, but as she read it she could almost hear the deep timbre of his voice commanding her to submit to his will, and a surge of heated pleasure shot straight to her core. Slowly, she slid the hem of her skirt up her thigh until the black garter was revealed, along with the lace edge of her stockings.
Her phone pinged. Higher.
She pulled the fabric higher, so her lace panties were visible.
Fucking hell.
This isn’t fair, she typed.
The fact that I’m now inconveniently hard and you’re across the river? I agree.
That’s your own fault. She laughed.
I meant that you can see me. All I can do is stare at granite and glass and try to picture you in your office.
And what are you picturing?
A wicked smile curved her lips. Hudson might have started their little game, but two could play. You at your desk. Me under it.
Now who’s the pervert?
She ignored his comment and continued to describe the image in her mind with a series of rapid-fire texts.
Rather like that time in the chair.
But instead of riding your cock, I’d be on my knees...sucking you off while you rule over your kingdom.
There was a long beat of silence, then her phone rang in her hand.
“I’m coming over,” he said. His voice was tight with a barely leashed restraint.
“No, don’t. It’s too risky. We don’t know who at Ingram is on Julian’s payroll. And we’ve taken far too many chances as it is.”
“I’m your business partner, for fuck’s sake. Any number of issues can bring me to that building.” His frustration was palpable, but they couldn’t do anything to blow their cover or to encourage Julian to move up his timetable.
“If we’re alone together too often, he’ll expect progress, and we need more time.”
“Then we’ll stay in plain sight.” His tone softened. “Christ, Allie, I need to see you. I’m losing my mind without you.”
“I feel the same way, but . . .”
“But what?”
Her words tumbled out in a rush. “I can’t bear to see you and not be able to touch you. And I don’t want to have to pretend that I hate you. It kills me. Because even though you know it’s an act, there’s a tiny piece of you that still feels it. I can see it in your eyes and it breaks my heart.”
He let out an resigned breath. “Tonight, then. Give me an hour or so to come up with a plan.”
“I can’t. I’m meeting Harper and Colin at a club.”
“First lunch and now drinks? I’m starting to get jealous of your assistant.”
Allie gave a small laugh. “Don’t be. I’m not his type.” She stood and walked over to the window. “I miss you,” she said, echoing the words she’d typed at the start of their conversation.
“I miss you, too. More than you know.”
She pressed her palm to the glass, and wondered if across the river, he was doing the same. “Tell me it will all work out, Hudson. Tell me the good guys will win this time. Tell me we’ll end up with our happily ever after.”
His voice was hoarse when he answered. “We will, Allie. I swear to you, somehow we will.”
Chapter Twelve
Allie eyed Harper over the rim of her glass. She was wearing a short sequined dress that caught each beat of the lights that pulsed over the crowd, and heels that, despite her petite frame, made her legs look like they went on for miles. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright and glassy, and her toes tapped to the pounding bass. She was in total club mode. With one exception. Harper Hayes hadn’t so much as looked at a guy. Not a glance, not a wink. Not even a smile. And she certainly hadn’t passed her phone number to the bartender despite the fact that, as Colin was quick to point out, he looked like Ian Somerhalder. Even Allie had given him a second glance, but Harper seemed completely impervious to his devilishly handsome good looks, and for that there could be only one explanation.
Nick.
Harper hadn’t said anything about her budding relationship with Hudson’s brother, but Allie was confident he was the reason for her best friend’s sudden lack of interest in the male population. At least when it came to finding a potential date for herself. She was having no problem using her well-honed skills to find Allie a man, and she’d been putting them to good use all night.
“There was nothing wrong with that one,” Harper said as the guy in question moved on to another table. “And the first three were perfectly fine, too.”
Allie wrinkled her nose. She didn’t want perfectly fine, she wanted perfect. She wanted Hudson Chase.
“It’s not like you’re picking out china patterns,” she said. “They just wanted to buy you a drink.”
“I can buy my own drinks, thank you very much.” Allie downed the last of her lemon drop martini, her third of the night. Usually she followed Harper’s “martinis are like boobs” motto when it came to her drink of choice. In other words, one was not enough, and three was too many. But tonight she wanted to lose herself in that heady combination of drinking too much alcohol in a club where the music was much too loud. And for that, Asylum was the perfect destination.
The entire club pulsed with a hypnotic energy. Hundreds of bodies filled the circular dance floor in the center of the club, all writhing and swaying under the multihued lighting that kept time to the pounding music. Above them the ceiling soared three stories high, with the balconies on each level wrapping around all three hundred and sixty degrees, and in the distance a DJ held court on a raised platform.
“Well, the next one’s on me.” Colin caught the eye of their waitress and signaled for another round. “As for your many admirers, no offense, Boss Lady, but you really only have yourself to blame.”
“First, we agreed I’m not your boss tonight. Second, how do you figure?”
“Well, if you didn’t want to spend the night fending off guys left and right, then you shouldn’t look so hot.” He hid his smile behind his glass.
Allie gaped at him. She would have been offended if it weren’t for the irresistible combination of amusement and affection that sparkled in his bright green eyes.
“What?” he asked, aiming for innocent and failing miserably. “You said you’re not my boss tonight.”
Allie laughed and shook her head. “Right, but the flattery-won’t-get-you-a-raise policy is still in effect.”
“Ah, but it’s true. Look at you, hair in a perfectly disheveled updo, makeup completely on point with those smoky eyes and glossy nude lips. And that dress.” His eyes raked over the slinky black halter dress that dipped low in the back. “I mean, damn, even I want to hit that.” He smirked. “And you’re lacking the proper anatomy.”