Filthy Boss

“A certain person holds this card. Someone who spends more money on his girls and more time here than anyone I've ever met. Please tell me how did you get Hudson James to pay attention to you?”

I gulped. “I don't know. Ever since I’ve been here, he's just seemed interested.”

“You know, he's never given his card to a girl. Not one of mine at least.”

I was perplexed. “But you just said he spends so much money on his girls.”

She nodded. “That I did. He likes to bring in lavish gifts for ladies that he finds attractive. But he's never given his card to anyone. Many nights he comes in here with his buddies, and drinks up the tab that would cost you your rent. But he doesn't take anyone home; he's not that kind of client.”

But he was taking me home. Me. What did that say about our relationship? Or what he wanted out of it.

She started tapping on her computer, and a broad smile crossed her face. “Do you have a passport?”

I nodded. “Yeah, I went to the Bahamas a couple years ago with family. Why?”

The smile didn’t leave her lips. “Because he just booked you a flight for France. His own personal jet will be taking you there, but you'll still have to go through customs when you arrive.”

I was flabbergasted. “France?”

“Yes, a favorite place of his. He owns a little flat there. You're going to have quite the weekend, Ms. Hart. I'm very impressed.”

So was I.

“Can I leave the country? I mean, with the investigation?”

“Oh, dear, you were cleared the second you left the station. They have their murderer; they’ll have to catch us another way.”

“Oh.” What a complete relief.

“Yes, so it’s settled: France!”

I took a deep breath. “France.”

After the formalities were figured out, I was sent upstairs to grab a suitcase that would be packed for me, with clothes appropriate for a weekend getaway to France. I certainly didn't own anything that would be fitting for a trip like this. As I walked out with my Louis Vuitton luggage that didn't belong to me, and slid into a black town car, I looked like a supermodel. This wasn’t my life. It couldn’t be. I whipped out my cell phone to tell Alexis what was going on. I certainly couldn’t stay out all night again without telling her first. She might send out the National Guard this time.

“Oh my God, you cannot even believe what is happening to me right now!”

“What? Are you okay? I swear to God, I told you not to go back there.”

“No, it's nothing like that. One of the clients is taking me away for the weekend. To. France. France, Alexis! Shit like this just doesn't happen to girls like me.”

There was dead silence on the other end of the line. “Alexis? Are you there?”

“Yeah, yeah I'm here. Oh my God, Calla. Are you sure? What if this guy takes you there in his private jet, and then chops you up into little pieces? He could be a freaking serial killer, Calla, you have to be careful.”

I laughed. “Then I will have died in some sort of paradise. But, really, I don't think I have anything to worry about, except if he doesn't like me. I'm not really sure what the rules are about taking someone out of the country, and then leaving them there.”

“I guess someone would come get you, probably not me though. However, a trip to France would be nice.” She laughed lightly before adding, “Girl, you just gotta be careful, okay? Promise me.”

“I promise.”

Chapter Nine

As I arrived at the Boston International Airport, I was guided through security by my own personal TSA liaison. She then took me to a private VIP section where Hudson was waiting for me. He still had on his black suit, and his hands were in his pockets, as he looked out over the tarmac. The woman sat my luggage down, and extended her hands. “Mr. James, Calla Hart is here for you. I hope that you two have an enjoyable trip.”

She smiled sweetly, and then walked away, closing the door behind her. For the first time, I was alone with Hudson James.

“Nice evening to fly. I love traveling in the evenings, not as many prying eyes. People are too busy doing what they do in their own homes at this time of night.”