Cockney: A Stepbrother Romance (50 page)

“Jesus, Donald,” I mutter, standing as well and glowering at him; “I mean she
hates
the guy-”

“You know,
Hudson
,” Donald interrupts, his eyes narrowing at me; “I see what you’re doing, and you’re
not
going to ruin this for me.”

I furrow my brow; “For
you
?”

“For the campaign.” He mutters, but I know what he means, and it puts me instantly on edge; “We both want the same thing for the campaign, Hudson.”

“For Reagan, you mean.”

He shrugs; “A campaign is a campaign; I’d have figured a big important business man like yourself would understand that,” he says with a sneer. “Reagan makes a great figurehead for that campaign, but it’s the
run
that’s important here.”

“You mean it doesn’t matter if she wins or not, as long as the
campaign
is good?” My voice starts to rise as I shake my head in disgust at him.
Because then you become the next wizard campaign manager for putting a twenty three year old girl up for a New York Senate seat and running a ‘good campaign’, even if she doesn’t win.

“I don’t expect one of William’s army buddies to understand.”

“
Marines
, dick.”

Donald shakes his head; “Regardless, it’s nothing you’d understand. If Archer Holdings wants to finance the campaign, that’s great. And if they think you need to somehow protect her like some sort of bodyguard, fine, I’m even ok with that too.” He frowns and takes another step towards me before he sticks his finger out and pokes me in the chest; “But if you think there’s anything
else
for you here, I’m here to tell you that you are
sorely
mistaken.”

“Fuck you, Donald.”

“Look, you’re here to protect an investment, right?” He frowns at me again; “So do your fucking job. ‘
Protect
the investment’ doesn’t mean suddenly deciding you know more about running a candidate than I do, ok?”

“You’re pushing her too hard.”

“She’ll adapt and she’ll mold into what she needs to be.”

I shake my head at him and his mechanical robot answers; “Jesus, Donald; are you fucking serious?”

“Hudson, this isn’t the first time I’ve helped a trust-fund kid play politics you know.”

I can feel my temper start to rage inside, my hands clutching at my side; “We both know she’s a lot more than that.”

Donald just shrugs; “Look, I get it. She’s beautiful, charismatic, magnetic; she’s William’s
daughter
- I mean really Hudson, I get why you’re following her around like you are.” For a moment I bristle; suddenly wondering if Donald actually
knows
what’s going on between Reagan and I. “I mean I’m
glad
you’ve decided to be her friend like you’ve been-”
whew, guess not
“- and that’s exactly the kind of attraction we’re working for her target demographic.” He looks at me shrewdly; “Don’t fool yourself though, Reagan has an angle here, and that angle is to
get elected
, not be your
pal
.” 

“Donald, the only one playing shadow angles here is
you
.” I growl, feeling my jaw tense.

He shrugs; “Look, you want to help her? Keep her locked down; keep her focused on what she
needs
to do.” He starts to walk out of the room before he pauses and turns at the door; “Stick to the
plan
, Hudson.” And then he’s gone, leaving me alone in this dark library full of ghosts and questions and my own shattered thoughts.

P A S T

“Well
I
think it’s awesome,” Chelsea says, sipping on her coffee.

“Thanks. I mean it’s just a low-level position for the campaign, but he’s a pretty strong incumbent, so it’ll be great experience to work for his office.”

Chelsea grins, “Dad would’ve
loved
that you’re getting into politics you know.”

“
Not
why I’m doing it, but fine.” I mutter.

Chelsea huffs and slaps her hand down hard on the bench we’re camped out on in Central Park; “Ok,
honestly
, when are you going to let all of that go?”

I scowl and look away from her; “What does it matter?”

“It matters because it’s not
healthy
to keep letting it eat away at you like that! Ok,
fine
, we get it! Dad worked a lot, and he missed some stuff, and you’re mad about it!”

“Are you
not
?” I snap at her.

“We all have
regrets
, Reagan, but no, I’m not mad at him for working hard, or for Mom dying so young.”

I look away again, wordless and angry. 

“He did what he could-”

“Well it wasn’t good
enough
, now
was
it!?”

Chelsea’s face tightens as she holds my furious look and shakes her head; “He’s
dead
, Reagan; you think you can get around to forgiving him now anyways?”

P R E S E N T

Donald is talking about polling points, or something to do with “provisional budgeting,” but I’m honestly not even hearing a word he says.  It’s hardly been a handful of hours since what happened back at the house in Greenwich, and while we might be back in the City, my mind is still
right
back there on that balcony, watching my breath crystalize in the chill of the air as Hudson’s hot mouth devours me-

“Reagan!”

I snap out of my fantasy to see Donald shaking his head and snapping his fingers at me, Erika tut-tuting behind him like some sort of angry schoolmarm.

“I need you to be
here
, Reagan,” He huffs, his face red; “If you’d rather daydream though, let me know now and I’ll quit wasting my time with this damn campaign.”

I
want
to snap at him, but in all honestly, I know he’s right. We are
way
too deep into this campaign for me to be slacking off like this and letting myself be carried away by distractions. Fuck, is that what he is? I mean everything that we said back there at the house was so nakedly honest, and so real, and
God
did it feel real when his tongue slid into my pussy like that. But,
Goddamnit
, no! How fucking stupid am I to get involved with
Hudson
Banks
of all freaking people! Never mind the past; the fact that he
works for
my largest campaign contributor, which I’m already going to get shit for sharing the same name with, is another huge blaring warning sign! I can’t even imagine the shit-storm my run would find itself in if the papers got ahold of the juicy tidbit that I was
fucking
my campaign contributor!

Well, not fucking yet.
Yet; which means there’s still time to end this. I can stop this train wreck now right here before it goes any further; before the risk gets any bigger to the campaign, and to me. There’s too much at stake here, and it’s just not worth it.

Now, if I could just convince myself of that.

“I’m here, I’m sorry Donald.” I let the air out through pursed lips; “Honestly, I think I’m just tired and worn out from the day. You guys mind if we break here so I can go take a shower?”

Donald grumbles but nods as I stand; “Just be ready to hit this tomorrow, ok? You’ve got that interview in the morning, the other one later after lunch, and then the gala event with Congressman Kennedy in the evening.”

“I will.”
Because tomorrow, I’m nipping this in the bud with Hudson and putting an end to the distractions.

“Ooo! Don’t forget to use that facial scrub I got you! Reagan!” Erika say something else about cucumbers and tea-tree oil as I roll my eyes and leave them in the conference room.

*****

The hotel we’re staying at in Midtown is
exactly
the kind of campaign expense I don’t particularly enjoy, even though I know it’s all part of the pageantry of the race. I’ve tried to tell Donald a million times that it’s ridiculous for me to be staying here, seeing as I
live
barely ten blocks away, but he’s insisted that at this point in my campaign, I need a “headquarters”.

Right; what I
need
is a stiff drink to give me the courage to figure out what I’m going to say to Hudson. I pause for just a second outside his door, almost tempted to knock on it and just rip the band-aid off right then, but I stop myself, of course. Tightening the fist I was about to pound on his door with, I walk into my own room and close the door mercifully behind me.

I feel a shiver as I strip off my clothes in the bathroom, still feeling the lingering graces of his touch on my body as I turn on the water. I still have no idea what I'm going to say to him, but I'm bracing myself to do it anyways; it’s the only realistic thing to do at this point.

The shower spray is bliss; hot, sudsy, and steamy to the point where I can just let go a little bit and let it all just take me away. So much so, in fact, that I don’t even hear the door to the bathroom open until it shuts, at which point I practically jump out of my skin. My scream freezes in my throat as he yanks the shower curtain back and smirks at me.

"Hudson!" I gasp, my hands clutching at my chest; "What the
fuck!
"

He grins wickedly and shushes me.

"Are you fucking insane?!" I husk at him, still meekly covering myself with my hands as if he hasn't seen me naked before; as if he hadn't just had his mouth on my pussy barely hours before; "Donald and Erika are in the conference room right down the hall, get
out
of here!" I hiss at him through clenched teeth.

He smirks at me; "Well I guess that means you'd better keep quiet then."

"Hud-"

He pulls off his towel, and he's rock hard, his erection throbbing as he grins at me and steps into the shower with me.

"Hudson, I-" I can feel my resolve cracking; already forgetting all those poetic words I'd been putting together in my head to tell him why we couldn't continue this exact behavior anymore. He's steps close to me, so close I can feel my own body betraying me; warming, and wanting him nearer still.

"We can't- we can't do this-"

"Reagan," His voice is low and growling; "I'm going to kiss you on the count of five. And if you don't want me to do that, you're going to have to tell me, because after that, you're going to have to
stop
me."

Goddamnit, why won't he listen to me! I can't do this, as much as every fiber of my being wants  to. He steps closer to me, so close that I can practically feel his skin on mine, though he's still not touching me. The water trickles over his chiseled and inked chest, over the scars and the muscles there.

"Hudson-"

"One."

"Dammit, get
out
of the shower!" I whisper noncommittally, barely believing the words myself.

"Two."

His hand reaches up and he trails his fingertips across the arm I've still got covering my breasts, making me shiver despite the steam from the shower. But we can
not
fucking do this! It could ruin the whole campaign and everything that I've worked so hard for.

"Three." 

I'm wet; so fucking wet and ready for him that it's making my knees feel weak. But we can't-