Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 139259 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 696(@200wpm)___ 557(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 139259 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 696(@200wpm)___ 557(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
My heart leaps, and I scramble off the couch, peering through the peephole.
It’s him. Duh. I knew this already.
Real smooth, Molly.
I fling the door open, and my heart starts to race.
There he is—Hudson Wilde in all his tall, obnoxiously sexy glory. He’s trying to blend in—like he could ever do that—wearing a ball cap pulled low over his eyes and a leather jacket.
“Hey.” His low and steady voice makes butterflies swarm in my belly.
“What are you doing here?” I cross my arms to keep my hands from shaking from the nerves of the day. Having my secret—our secret—out is a lot to handle. Now, what do we do?
“Saving you,” he says simply, stepping inside and closing the door behind him.
I blink, caught off guard by his calmness. How can he be so at peace right now? I’m a hot mess, shaking like a leaf, barely able to function. “Saving me from what?” I play dumb. Maybe if I pretend it’s not happening, it won’t be.
“From the vultures downstairs,” he says, nodding toward the window. “It’s a madhouse out there.”
“I noticed,” I mutter, running a hand through my hair. “How did they even find out?”
“Good question.” His jaw tightens. “But right now, the how doesn’t matter. We just need to get you out of here.”
“Out of here?” He stands tall in front of me, like a knight in shining armor, ready to rescue me. It makes my heart do stupid things like hope. “To where?”
“My place,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
“Isn’t that going to be just as bad?” I ask.
“I have better security. Let’s go.”
I shake my head. “Hudson, I can’t—”
“You can.” His voice is firm. “Unless you want to stay here and deal with that.”
He gestures toward the window, and I glance outside again. The crowd has grown, reporters fighting for a better position to get the shot. Their cameras are aimed at my building, at my apartment, to be exact. This is bad. My stomach flips, and I look back at Hudson, my resolve crumbling.
“Fine.” I nod. I could pretend to be strong, but there’s no point. I’m basically lost at sea, and he’s offering me a life preserver. “But how are we supposed to get past them?”
He grins, and for the first time since I noticed the crowd outside my window, I feel a flicker of something that isn’t panic.
“Leave that to me.” The damn smirk that makes me stupid appears on his face.
Head in the game, Molly. This is not the time to look at him like you want to—
“Stop looking at me like that, Hex. Or we’ll give the reporters a real show.” Welp. That does it. All impure thoughts are officially knocked out of my head.
“Let’s just go.” I roll my eyes, but there’s no hate there. Not anymore.
Five minutes later, I’m standing in the hallway, wearing a hoodie and a pair of sunglasses he produced from his jacket pocket.
“This is your plan?” I ask, tugging the hoodie tighter around me.
“Trust me,” he says, adjusting his cap. “I’ve dealt with the press enough to know how to dodge them. Just stay close and keep your head down.”
“Great,” I mutter. “I feel so reassured.”
He rests a hand lightly on my back as he leads me toward the elevator. “Relax, Molly. I’ve got you.”
It’s tense in the elevator ride, and my heart is pounding by the time we reach the lobby. Hudson steps out first, scanning the crowd outside the glass doors before pulling me to his side.
“Ready?” His voice is so low I can barely hear him.
“No.” I follow him anyway. I have no other choice, and the truth is, if I have to face the press, there is no one else I would feel comfortable doing it with. Not even Dane.
The moment we step outside, the reporters pounce.
“Hudson. Is it true you’re married to Molly Sinclair?”
“Molly, how long have you been seeing Hudson?”
“Was the wedding planned or was it spontaneous?”
“Hudson, what does Dane think about all this?”
Damn.
They are relentless.
I’ve been with the team for years and have never seen anything like this. Sure, there was that blip with Aiden, but even that was controlled. Nothing like this. That was one lone reporter out to get him. This is something else entirely.
I keep my head down, my sunglasses hiding my eyes as I cling to Hudson’s arm. His presence is solid and steady, and he doesn’t say a word as we push through the crowd.
Got to hand it to him. He has a way of comforting me like no one else can. Walking through these animals, I actually feel safe with him. Does that mean something? Yeah, I think it does. What? I’m not sure, and I’m not ready to broach that topic, but I know it does.
“Hudson, over here!” one of them shouts, shoving a microphone toward his face.