Free Web NovelChapter 68: Chapter 68 Late Night Encounters
Third Person POV
Hudson watched Christina practically sprint from the dining room without so much as a glance back.
He set his wine glass down on the polished table. "How’s she settling in?"
Geoffrey stepped forward from his position near the wall.
"Luna Christina has primarily remained in her room working on design sketches. She visited a law firm earlier today and returned immediately after."
"She didn’t go to the office?" Hudson’s brow furrowed.
Last week she’d mentioned Nyx Collective preparing for a major campaign launch. Something she’d called career-defining.
He pulled out his phone and dialed.
"Find out what’s happening at Nyx," he instructed Cassian the moment he answered. "Talk to Ysolde Carlisle. Be discreet about it."
"For fuck’s sake," Cassian groaned through the line. "I’m your best man, not your personal assistant or your wife’s babysitter. Why not ask Christina directly? Or are you two not actually speaking?" frёewebnoѵēl.com
"Just do it." Hudson ended the call abruptly.
He stared at his screen, then at his untouched plate. The steak might as well have been sawdust. The wine tasted sour.
Cassian’s comment irritated him more than he wanted to acknowledge.
He’d married her. She’d moved in. That alone was victory considering her commitment phobia after Niall.
But that’s where it ended.
They shared a house and meals, yet she looked at him like an employee facing quarterly review. Her dinner smile had been painfully transparent—the same empty customer service expression that meant absolutely nothing.
Still, he caught her eyes wandering over him when she thought he wasn’t looking. His jaw. His hands. His throat.
She had no idea what that did to him.
"She’s looking at us like we’re on a menu," Lycaon growled pleasurably in his head. "But she won’t order."
Her gaze carried physical weight, like fingers brushing his skin, leaving heat trails wherever it landed.
At least physical attraction wasn’t an issue.But it was shallow, temporary interest.She enjoyed the show but wouldn’t commit to the performer when reality set in.
Hudson raked fingers through his hair, frustrated with his lack of progress.
"We need more than her eyes on us. We need her trust," Lycaon insisted.
He didn’t want to be her fleeting fixation.
He wanted inside her world completely—her thoughts, her trust, her life.
She faced serious accusations yet chose to handle it alone. Asking for his help clearly never occurred to her.
The frustration simmered all day, reaching critical mass by midnight.
Hudson’s bedroom occupied the east wing of the second floor, two doors from hers. Stepping out for water, he glanced right.
Light streamed from beneath Christina’s door. She appeared about to exit, but hearing his door open, she instantly retreated and killed the lights.
So she’d wanted to come out. For water. A snack. Or something more interesting, if he dared hope. But seeing him made her choose dehydration over sharing space with him.
Hudson exhaled slowly, ran a hand through his hair, and descended the stairs without looking back. No need to spook her further. frёewebηovel.cѳm
He filled a glass at the kitchen island before settling onto the living room’s leather sofa, phone in hand. His position gave him perfect view of her bedroom upstairs.
Her door cracked open slightly. No light inside, just darkness and a glimmer of curiosity as she peered out.
He remained motionless, avoiding direct eye contact.
The door closed again.
His lips twitched involuntarily.
He drank his water deliberately slowly, taking ten minutes to finish.
Her door opened again. A sliver. Then shut. Again. Shut.
"This is ridiculous," Lycaon complained. "She’s playing hide and seek when she should be in our bed."
Hudson leaned back against the sofa, laughing bitterly under his breath. She’d rather risk dehydration than spend five seconds in the same room with him?
He grabbed his phone and typed blindly.
[You’ve dated half of Highrise’s female population. How do you make them fall for you?]
Cassian’s reply took ages.
[It’s fucking 2AM. Get therapy. Or new friends. Or brain surgery. Christina is ALREADY your wife. You have exactly what you wanted. What else do you want? Her soul? Here’s a link to ’Valentine’s Day Without Restraining Orders.’ You’re welcome. Now let me sleep, asshole.]
Hudson slammed his phone face-down onto the cushion.
He should’ve known better than to seek relationship advice from someone who changed girlfriends more frequently than most people changed socks.
"Your friend is useless but correct," Lycaon noted. "She’s already here. Time will do the rest."
Cassian had a point,he had gotten Christina where he wanted. Under his roof. There would be plenty of opportunities ahead.
He rinsed his glass in the sink and headed upstairs. Instead of entering his room, he paused behind the door, waiting—something childish he’d never done before.
The wait wasn’t long.
Soft footsteps, nearly silent. Quick and careful, like someone avoiding detection.
She had to pass his room to reach the stairs.
He eased the door open just enough to see.
There she was.
Christina glided across the marble in a white silk slip that clung to her curves, moving like a beautiful thief in the night.
