Journey to Fortune(5)

Hudson glanced at his Rolex and saw he had at least two more hours  before he landed. He was excited about seeing some new designs and  attending the gala. He was hoping to meet some of the designers whose  work he admired in the magazines he saw. Yet, he worried about their  personalities. A lot of the designers were snobs or the people who  represented them were. If they heard he had money, they would up the  price. He needed to be suave. Maybe pretend he wasn't in the market to  buy, but browse instead? Whatever. He would make the decision as soon as  he saw the prospects.

Closing his eyes, he leaned back in the recliner, and hoped that this  trip wasn't a waste of time. Money, he had an abundance of. That was his  least worry. But lately he was feeling as if money wasn't the most  important thing anymore. Sure he had all the fancy cars, the multiple  houses, and could buy anything or anyone he wanted. Not that he ever did  that, but knowing he had the power to do so boosted his male ego. He  smirked to himself. Nah, something was bothering him. He just hadn't  been feeling right lately. He felt a bit hollow inside, and he wondered  why.

Maybe he just needed to loosen up. Perhaps find a beautiful, sexy woman to get lost in for an evening, or even the weekend?

With thoughts of hooking up and easing that hollow feeling, Hudson fell asleep.





Chapter 3




Tia Rose stood on the balcony of her room at one of the most luxurious  hotels in France. She sipped her wine, enjoying the amenities of her  room at the Trianon Palace Versailles. The room's décor was gorgeous.  Rich purples accented the sheer white curtains and king-sized bedding.  Even the rug throughout the suite had a purple, cream, and black unique  pattern going through it. Some of the accent pieces, like the bench, the  headboard, and upholstered chairs were done in rich, dark plum velvet,  which made them stand out among the whites. She felt the warm, gentle  breeze, as she leaned against the open glass patio doorway. The sheer  white curtains danced slightly in the breeze and she could smell the  abundant aroma of flowers from the garden below.

"I'm in Paris, France. I'm in an executive suite fit for a princess,"  she said aloud, then giggled before taking another sip of the French  wine.

She could see the fields of green grass in the distance, the air crisp  and clean and almost magical. Something stirred inside of her. Life was  just beginning for her now, at age twenty-four.

She glanced toward the bedside table, noting the time, and the need to  get ready for tonight's event. Instead of roaming through the displays  today, as the vendors and craftsman set up, she'd decided to venture off  into the city, and find the local artists and what they had to offer.  It had been a complete inspiration, as she stopped along the way and  drew her own designs, with ideas stemming from what she saw.         

     



 

Of course people's tastes were always so different in America, but in  New York, the influences of various countries and cultures were accepted  and received well.

The Sinclairs were already impressed with the e-mails and pictures she  had sent in the last few days. Tonight and the rest of the weekend were  hers to enjoy.

She closed the doors to the balcony, locked them, and then stepped down  into what was the master bedroom. She grabbed her dress, the one she'd  purchased at a lovely boutique about twenty kilometers from Versailles,  in Paris. It was a bit expensive, but as she splurged on getting her  hair done here, along with a waxing, which led to a manicure and  pedicure, she was ready for tonight.

It was crazy, but as she exited the salon, even dressed casually in  another outfit she'd purchased in Versailles, she felt sexy, beautiful,  and alive. People seemed to notice her immediately. She was so glad  she'd splurged, but as she stared at the dress, she began to  second-guess the woman at the boutique.

The dress was slim fitting, and totally accentuated her large breasts.  Amazingly, she had been so nervous before leaving for Paris, she  actually slimmed down a little. Not that she was skinny or even remotely  close. She never would be. That was a fact about her body type, but she  looked good. She was firm in all the right places and soft where she  should be. It made her feel beautiful.

Then, of course, the dressmaker at the boutique talked her into buying  some sexy French lingerie. Even after explaining that she was single,  and absolutely not in the mood to get involved with another man, the  woman spouted words about destiny and the magic of Versailles.

Tia Rose stared at the dress. Perhaps it is a bit too much.

She downed the rest of the glass of wine. She felt her body relax a little.

"Oh, well, I'm in Paris. I don't know a soul, and I'm leaving in four days."

She took a step forward and felt her body move seductively across the carpet.

Her confidence was rising despite the years of doubt and lack of  self-confidence. She kept repeating the words, "This is the new you."

"Tonight I live for the moment, for the pleasure of happiness, with no  worries, no denials and fears. I will embrace whatever comes my way."







Hudson Ross was walking through the gala. He had to admit that he wasn't  too impressed with what he saw on display. He also didn't care for some  of the people making their way through the event and appearing  stuck-up. He was looking at a set of furniture, way overpriced and sort  of ugly, if he was being honest. But as he eyed a single standing  cabinet, he caught sight of something much more appealing.

It was odd, but her hair, and then the sound of her sweet laughter as  she spoke with one of the vendors were what initially drew his eyes  toward her. Her back was turned toward him, and Hudson wondered if the  front of her was as appealing as the back. Her hips were curved. The  dress she wore was snug against them then flared toward the bottom to  her calves. She wore black high heels that had a thin stripe of purple  on the heel of each shoe. Her legs were gorgeous.

The back of the purple dress was lined on the edges of her skin with a  matching purple line of fabric. It appeared to be made of silk, and he  assumed she must have purchased it at a local shop in Paris. There was a  unique French flair to it. Her skin was creamy and her shoulders bare  as well. He couldn't take his eyes off of her, as one of the waiters  smiled, winked, and then handed her a glass of wine. She tried to  decline, the waiter made a comment Hudson couldn't hear, but she laughed  and then took the fancy glass.

She turned to look around, and like a punch to his gut, he felt himself flinch inside.

Oh, my God. She's perfect.

Her gaze filtered through the room, as if trying to determine which way  she should go next. He absorbed the way the designer dress fit her like a  glove, yet revealed enough cleavage to make a man like him fall to his  knees and beg for her attention. She was a goddess. A Renaissance woman,  and he knew he needed to find out more about her. He had to, before  some other man or men claimed what belonged to him.

He was shocked at the immediate possessive thoughts. He was acting like  an ass. Just because he felt confident that he could get any woman he  wanted, didn't mean that this one would automatically accept him. Or  perhaps she would. He wasn't sure and he didn't want to waste time  overthinking this. He was a natural. He was thirty years old,  experienced, and a billionaire who fought with the toughest of CEOs in  business board meetings. Surely he could seduce a beautiful woman with a  body his cock seemed enticed by.         

     



 

He followed her, and when she stopped by a set of porcelain dishes sitting on some designer tables, he spoke to her.

"That is quite a stunning piece. Do you collect?" he asked her. She  abruptly turned toward him, and he felt his eyes zero in on her gorgeous  green eyes. The woman was a knockout. She looked sweet as she stumbled  to reply to him. He looked her face over as he gave a small smile.

She had the face of a porcelain doll. She smelled as edible as she looked.

"I don't. I was just browsing." Her American, maybe Northeast accent  mixed with a bit of Southern twang, alerted him immediately to the fact  that she was not French. Did she live here? Was she visiting? Was she  here with someone?

"Oh, I was going to tell you that the prices here are high. There are better places in town and beyond, near the villages."

"Oh, I know. I went through some of them the last few days. You're not  French, are you?" she asked. He gave a small smile as a group of  browsers cleared their throats as if he and this lovely woman were in  their way. They held one another's gazes for a moment and then she  smiled. He felt it straight to his gut. This was different. He needed to  know her. He would totally get to know her.

He reached for her elbow and stepped with her to the side. His heart  pounded and his blood heated. She felt amazing. The attraction was  mesmerizing.

"I'm not French, no. Are you?" he asked, and she shyly turned away and looked toward the side and another table of merchandise.