Filthy Boss

“I don't know. Anything. I’d definitely like to go to the beach again. But I'd also like to see some of the sights in town. Go to a bakery maybe?”

He nodded. “Well, how about we start the day by walking around town, then grab some lunch, and then go to the beach for the afternoon?”

“That sounds perfect.”

I finished the last morsels on my plate, and excused myself to go shower. Part of me wanted him to follow me, but the other part of me wanted just a moment of privacy. When I got out of the shower, in my own bathroom, I found a bright yellow dress packed for me with a matching hat. Whoever chose all my clothes certainly had that 1940s classic style down. But, then I thought that maybe that's what people wore when they went to Europe; it wasn't like I had ever been here before. I took my time getting ready. I wanted every hair to be perfectly in place, and when Hudson knocked on my door, I was surprised to see him looking very casual. It was the first time I had seen him out of his suit, and not naked. He stood there in a white polo and navy shorts, looking relaxed, and for the first time, happy.

“I love that dress.”

“I was just thinking how much I like your outfit. You look so calm, nothing like before.”

He cocked his head to the side. “Really, because I've always found myself to be kind of a shorts man.” He had a smirk on his face that told me otherwise. I shook my head at him. He extended his hand, and I daintily gave him mine, allowing him to lead me down the stairs, and out the front door. I expected us to get into a town car again, but instead, there was a baby blue convertible sitting outside.

“No way!” I couldn't believe what I was seeing. I had never ridden in a convertible before, and to go down the streets of France? It was all too unbelievable.

“You like it?”

I shook my head in disbelief. “Like it? I love it! This is going to be amazing.”

“I hope you don't mind, but I had the butler pack your bathing suit and a few other essentials. I also had the cook put together a picnic basket.” I looked in the back seat, and sure enough, there was a bag packed for me for the beach, and there was the picnic basket with a bottle of wine sticking out of it. It was all part of this fantasy he had built, this couldn’t be my real life.

I walked over to him, and pulled him by the collar into me. Our lips met, and I was suddenly reminded of all the amazing moments from the night before. His lips touching my collarbone, his hands on my thighs; it had all been so in the moment and fantastic. I considered reliving all of it right there on the cobblestones, but I wanted to see more. I knew that Hudson had more to offer, just by demonstrating this little piece of heaven.

He opened the door for me, and I sat down, feeling white leather under my fingertips. He drove off down the lane, and over a hill, past the ocean to get into town. I hadn't been able to see any of the views this way before, and it was spectacular. All these little buildings all squished together with signs for bread, pastries, and coffee. We drove slowly to the edge of town, and parked near a small garden overlooking the beach.

“I figured we'd walk from here.”

I gave him my hand as he led me out of the car. “Sounds good to me.” I reached in the back to grab my bag, but he got there first. He lifted the picnic basket and bag onto his shoulder, and we started to walk through the town. He tried to keep me on his arm, but I couldn't contain my excitement, pointing out different things and popping into shops when he wasn't paying attention. But he seemed to revel in my excitement. When I would mispronounce something, or not understand what they were saying, he would translate without even thinking about it. He didn't like to watch me struggle; it bothered him. I could tell by the look on his face. Something about him wanted to protect me, constantly. But what it was about me, I still wasn't sure. I still couldn't figure out why he picked me of all the girls in the club. Why was I so special? Nothing about me felt special. But to him, I was.

We sat on some rocks on the beach with a blanket laid down underneath us. My hair whipped around my face as I reached for a sandwich.

“What did you make?” I lifted a cloth wrapped snack out of the basket.

“Chicken salad, but I didn’t make it. It’s safe, I promise.”

“I love chicken salad.”

“I know.”

I was surprised. “How did you know?”

He laughed. “I did a little research.”

I took a bite out of the sandwich; it was delicious. “Homemade recipe?” I asked through a full mouth. He smiled again and placed his thumb across my lower lip, wiping the extra Greek yogurt away.

“Yeah, it was my moms. I mean I'm sure she got it from someone else, but she made it all the time when I was a kid. It was one of my favorites, too.”

“Your mom? You haven't talked much about your family. Especially not your mother. Why don’t you tell me about her?”

He sighed. “There's not a lot to say. She was a typical trophy

wife, though she gets along far better with my younger sister than she does with me. My parents were pretty young when they had me; my father was still starting out his career. They didn't have a lot of time for a child.”

I shook my head. “But they had you. And, so far, you seem to have turned out okay.”

He reached in the basket, pulled out a bottle of wine, and two glasses. “That's because you don't know me that well yet.”

I held up the glass as he poured the deep red liquid into it. “What does that mean? If this isn’t who you are, then who are you really?”