The Perfect Illusion(12)

“I’m not commandeering anything. We need to have a date. We need to get to know each other. Soon you’ll be accompanying me to Montauk for the month of June, which means we need to be spending every spare moment together until then.”

I exhale, my fingers spinning the ridiculous ring on my finger.

“See you at one,” he says before turning to leave.

The driver closes the door and returns to the front, and I grab my phone, texting my best friend, Isabelle, to ask for a rain check and promising to explain everything as soon as I can.

Settling back against the smooth leather seat, I stare at Manhattan through a tinted window, placing my hand on my lower belly.

“I’m doing this for you, baby,” I whisper.





Chapter 4





Hudson



Mari climbs into the backseat as my driver loads her bags into the trunk.

“Hi.” She tucks a strand of blonde hair behind one ear, brushing her hands along the back of her skirt-covered thighs.

That’s new.

I scan her from head to toe.

Her hair is lighter than before, parted deep on one side and slightly curled, and her lips are slicked in deep cherry red. A willowy blouse cut low in the front clings to her shoulders.

She looks … chic. Effortlessly classy. And I can’t take my fucking eyes off her.

“You look nice,” I say, my mouth forming a crooked smirk as I allow my gaze to linger a bit longer than usual.

She smooths her hand over a loose tendril. “Thanks. Got a bit of a makeover today. You were right about Elle. She’s got a great eye. And thank you for the clothes. I agree … my wardrobe was in dire need of an upgrade.”

There’s a gleam in Mari’s blue eyes that I didn’t expect. A veiled smile too. Already I can see she’s carrying herself differently. A little more charm? A little more grace? A little more confidence than before? Not that she was lacking. I’d always thought of Mari as somewhat of a quiet storm; assertive, beautiful, and potentially destructive if not properly handled.

It isn’t her fault though. It’s her age—her generation. They want the world at the snap of their entitled little fingertips. They want it all and they want it yesterday.

But they’re not ready.

One minute they’re giving world-class presentations in boardrooms and the next minute they’re hurling tantrums like a teething toddler when something doesn’t go their way.

This experience will be good for Mari. I think she’s really going to hit her stride under my wing, and when it’s over, she’ll find herself a little more refined, a little more patient, and she’ll find the world is a little more within her reach than it was before.

“I hope you’re not too hungry. I moved our reservations so we could make a little stop on the way,” I say, checking my watch.

“Where are we going?”

“Your apartment. Then the restaurant.”

“And why are we stopping at my apartment?” Her nose wrinkles.

“You’ll see soon enough.”

Mari crosses her long legs and slides back into the seat as we merge into the busy mid-day traffic. Within a half hour, we’re sitting outside her building, parked behind a moving truck.

Leaning forward, she squints toward the uniformed men lugging furniture pieces up a ramp.

“That looks like my …” her voice trails off. “That’s … is that my dresser?”

Reaching for the door handle, she scurries to climb out of the limo. I follow, placing my hand on her shoulder as she stares wide-eyed as her things are loaded.

“What are you doing with my things?” She turns to me. “And how did you get access to my apartment?”

“You’re moving in with me.”

“And why wasn’t this communicated with me?” She whips her gaze in my direction, her hands landing on her hips.

“It was. Didn’t you read the contract you signed over the weekend?”

“Of course I read it.”

“Then surely you read the fine print?” I ask.

Her expression wilts as she glances over my shoulder and into the distance.

“Pretty sure I would’ve noticed a cohabitation clause,” she says, chewing on the inside of her lip. Mari exhales, and I watch in real time as her frustration seems to be redirected at herself.

“Either way, it’s a done deal. It’s happening. You’re living with me—in the guest suite of course,” I say. “It’s important that we get to know each other’s habits—our idiosyncrasies, if you will. We need to have some kind of authentic semblance of a relationship. It can’t all be acting. Now, go upstairs and collect your personal belongings. Everything else will go into storage. I’ll wait here in the car.”