CHAPTER ONE
Hudson Yards, New York – October 2025
“Bella, you good?” Hudson’s deep voice cut through my closed bedroom door, but it wasn’t enough to jar me from my current, freaked-out state.
I couldn’t answer. Nor budge a step from where I stood by my bed like a Disney ice sculpture, chills flying up my spine in the sparkly dress. I was probably as transparent as glass, too.
My jaw muscles continued to shiver as I stared at the photo resting on my palm like a shard of broken glass, one flinch away from cutting me.
“Something wrong?” His follow-up was the gentle nudge in the ass I needed to open my mouth and talk.
If I didn’t answer him, he’d walk in and find me exposed. Well, not physically, but emotionally. “Uh, hold on.”
“Hold on to what exactly?” His smart-ass response finally pulled my attention toward the door and away from the picture.
“The zipper. I’m just having issues with it.” The lie nearly fractured apart on my distressed tone.
“Callie said you were dressed and ready.” He didn’t waste time calling me out on my bluff.
He was right, though. My sister-in-law had already helped me, leaving my room less than five minutes ago. Five minutes before I’d set eyes on the wicked blast from my past still searing the skin of my palm.
Forcing my feet to move, I went to the nightstand and hid the picture between two issues of Golf Digest. Reading about golf, or watching it on TV, was my therapeutic version of sleep noise.
With the evidence of why I was a nervous mess out of sight, I slowly spun around to face the 1930s bespoke door. My designer had chosen to keep a few of the original elements of the almost hundred-year-old home during the remodel. Now I was regretting my decision not to suggest a lock.
And at the sight of the porcelain knob turning, Hudson’s patience apparently gone, I outstretched my arm as if I could telekinetically stop him. “Don’t come in or you’ll see me naked.”
“I don’t believe you.” Contrary to his words, the knob stopped turning.
My brain was still lagging, so I blundered my way through the lie and said, “Last-minute decision to use the bathroom before we go. You have to take the whole dress off or risk peeing on it.” It was no wonder the man would never see me as more than his best friend’s sister. Because, you know, discussing urinating on a ball gown was uber attractive.
“So, you need me to get her back up here to help you?”
I framed my face between my hands, checking to see if my skin felt normal to the touch.
“Or are you so stubborn you’re fixin’ to spend more time trying to wrangle it in place yourself?”
You could take the man out of Texas, but not Texas out of the man. At least he’d distracted me again. The color should’ve returned to my face by now. I needed to confirm what I hoped would be true—that I no longer looked like Casper’s cousin from an Italian mother.
“Too stubborn,” I finally called back, holding the skirt of my dress so I didn’t trip as I shuffled over to the antique mirror on the wall.
“Of course you are,” he grumbled loud enough for me to hear. His face was probably parked an inch away from the door, and it was likely taking all of his restraint not to open it.
“I really am on the verge of success.” In hiding my nerves, at least.
Dropping hold of the luxurious fabric, I checked myself in the mirror that once belonged to my Sicilian grandmother. The ghost staring back at me was the opposite of what I wanted to see.
My sister’s brown eyes beneath my dark brows observed me like I was a story just waiting to be told. Bianca was the writer in the family, but I highly doubted even she’d want to tackle the mess that I was and bundle it up into something worth telling.
Of course, my prologue started with her death. So, she couldn’t exactly pen anything, now could she?
I peeked back at the magazines, thinking about the photo again, and . . . I’m failing. How am I going to act normal tonight?
“From the sounds of the commotion downstairs, everyone is here now. They’ll be waiting on us.”
On me, you mean. My attention swung back to the white paneled door and my shoulders hunched forward. Hand to my stomach, the little beads and crystals of the bodice poked into my palm like thorns from a rose. Doubt they’d draw blood the way that photo nearly had, but I had to do something to pull myself together.
There were lives on the line, and I couldn’t let what was wedged between those two magazines risk tonight’s mission because my focus was now collapsing under the pressure from my past.
I needed a way to get through this without the truth leaving my mouth. If Hudson or my brothers knew about that photo, they’d pull me off the op tonight. They’d go through with the mission because they had to, but then something might go sideways because they were distracted, and I couldn’t let that happen.
I had to adjust and find a new way forward to get through this night.
I walked barefoot to the door, mentally preparing myself for the face-off. “I need help.”
“So, I take it you want me to get Callie after all?”
“No, you can help me.” Resting my hand on the knob, I closed my eyes, my heart rate pulsing in my ears.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to help you get dressed.” That deep, husky tone felt richer and more indulgent than the dark chocolate I’d polished off an hour ago. While golf put me to sleep, candy was my go-to for a pick-me-up.
I finally opened up, letting him know there was no risk of seeing his best friend’s sister indecent.
Given my current state of mind, what I hadn’t been ready to experience upon seeing him, never mind so dramatically, was lust. But I fell headfirst into the feeling, forgetting tonight’s objective and the distraction between the magazines.
Standing before me was the six-foot-two definition of handsome. Long legs were encased by perfectly fitted trousers. A pressed white shirt stretched along broad shoulders. He was leaning forward, his suit jacket draped over his shoulder in one hand, with his other palm wedged against the doorframe, his bicep flexed. His thick brown hair was slicked back, and I was dying for a lock to escape so I could reach out and brush it away from his forehead.
But it was the two blue pools of trouble now staring at my face that had my stomach all fluttery.
Photo? What photo? Emergency mission? What mission?
One hot look from this man could melt the polar ice caps ten times faster than the burning of fossil fuels ever could.
He shoved away from the doorway and put on the jacket, never losing hold of my eyes. “Seeing as you tackled the dress problem, what do you need my help with?”
I blinked my way from his eyes to his mouth and licked my lips, time traveling back to our one and only kiss that happened the last week in May.
To keep with our couple cover during an undercover op in Rome, I wound up kissing him. What I hadn’t anticipated was for him to turn the moment into a French one. His tongue had cruised between my lips and met mine. I’d been left dizzy, lightheaded, and desperate for more.
I’d attempted to see if “more” might happen between us. There’d been a gas leak at my place, and I bunked at his apartment for the weekend. I’d embarrassingly gone so far as to traipse around in a bikini to sunbathe on his balcony, wearing my sexiest one, too. You would’ve thought I was a nun in robes with a crucifix around my neck the way he’d treated me.
“You ready?” my brother Alessandro yelled from downstairs, and my attention took a sharp U-turn back to the problem at hand.
“One minute,” I called back, eyes returning to Hudson’s as I did my best to remember what I’d planned to say to him.
“Bella?” The only person to ever call me that had a tendency to rob me of my precious brain cells whenever he said my name while locking eyes with me. Holding me prisoner right now, in fact. “You nervous about tonight? Is that what’s going on?”
I almost snapped my fingers at my side as my thoughts finally clicked in place. Nerves. That was what I’d planned to ask him to help me with. Hide my issues in plain sight with some version of the truth. “I’m nervous about the mission. I don’t normally go out in the field with you.” I turned toward my bedroom, unable to look at him any longer, worried he’d get an accurate read on me and know I wasn’t being honest.
“Going solo may raise suspicion. Although I rarely attend my father’s political events, when I do, I never go alone. It’s, uh, well . . .”
His reputation regarding his dating life wasn’t unknown to me, and I was rather curious how he planned to dig himself out of this hole.
Whipping around, I found him still in the hall, as if there was an unspoken rule about him not being allowed to cross the line into my bedroom. Maybe there was, and I just didn’t know it. I wouldn’t put it past my brothers to have their own version of the seven deadly sins as guidelines for things Hudson could never commit when it came to me.
“It’s expected that you always have a date with you?” I politely offered a reason when he couldn’t seem to cough up the truth—that he was a playboy like Alessandro once was.
“Something like that.” He fingered the knot of his tie, rotating his neck. “But, uh, if you’re uncomfortable going, you should sit this op out.”
“No, no.” My gaze skated over to my bed as I murmured, “I want to come.”
“And I want you to come.” There was a subtle rasp of sexiness in his tone that had me biting my lip.
The number of times I wanted that man to make me come, yeah, well, I’d lost count.
Brows drawn together, he grumbled, “I meant, I want you to come to the party.”
I smiled. Holy hell, I’m smiling right now despite the chaos in my head. “Of course, what else could you possibly have meant?” It was hard not to antagonize the man when he’d gone out of his way to act allergic to me lately.
He braced both palms against the doorframe. “If you want to go to the party, then how can I help you with your nerves?” Great, he’d stricken the word come from his vocabulary now.
“I suppose there’s nothing to really be uneasy about. I’m just going as your plus-one.” Hudson had been pretty clear in emphasizing the words “plus one” when reviewing the mission details. Not attending as his date or girlfriend. “No weapons allowed inside, and security is as tight as a frog’s ass, right?”
“Speaking frogman language now, are you?” he drawled.
“Frog woman, you mean?” I winked, trying to play off casual when I was anything but. “Anyway, I overheard Constantine refer to frogs and their derrières when reviewing the mission details earlier.” I circled my finger in the air as if winding something up with it, nerves getting to me all over again. “I forgot about the whole ‘SEAL and frog-nickname’ thing.”
At least he was smiling now, and I’d diverted his attention. “Yeah, security will be tight. No weapons on the premises outside of security personnel. But if someone tries to breach, Constantine is on overwatch, and we have two others on lookout with him as well.”
“Right. Okay.” Fidgeting with the skirt of my dress, I kept my eyes on the floor and asked, “And will we cross paths with your father tonight at the party?”
Hudson moved away from the doorframe but remained in the hall. “He’ll more than likely keep out of sight until the op is done. You know, just in case security isn’t as watertight as a frog’s ass.” The touch of humor catching in his tone stole my eyes his way. “We’ll be fine. You won’t be anywhere near the danger. Only reason I’m letting you go.”
My brothers will be, though. But that was par for the course for them. “And if danger shows up anyway? You know, since danger rarely comes with a party invite.”
“What is it you’re not telling me?” he asked before I barely finished my words. He pocketed his hand as if trying to fight back his desire to reach for me.
That assessment was more than likely in my head, though. If only. I was a non-committal number to this man tonight. His plus-one for an op and nothing more.
“I’m good. Solid. No longer worried. Super tight now. Like that frog and his ass.”
My nervous rambling sent the man across that invisible red line and right into my room. “Bella.”
I shooed him away with a flick of my wrist. “Don’t Bella me.”
“I’ll do it to you all day and night if I have to,” he said gruffly before rolling his eyes at how sexual that wound up sounding. Did to me, at least. “Stop smiling at me like that. You know what I meant.”
I reached for my lips, discovering I was grinning like a schoolgirl whose pigtails had been pulled by her crush. “Mmmhmm.” I sighed, lowering my hand to my side.
One signature scowl of his later, he pleaded, “You sure you’re fine?”
“I am now. Promise.”
Needing to end this conversation before I told him the truth about the origin of my nerves, I searched out my heels so we could leave. Spotting them by the bed, I hastily went over to the sparkly shoes. Even doing my best to be a vision of poise and grace, I still lost my balance. Clearly, I wasn’t God’s favorite Costa and needed to embarrass myself.
Hudson was at my side in a second, his arm swiftly settling against my back, keeping me upright.
I slowly peeked up at him from over my shoulder, and we quietly stared at each other. Just breathing. Simply existing.
There were so many truths on my tongue dying to slip out, and none of them had to do with that photo. The most painfully obvious fact fighting for freedom was that I didn’t want to be his plus-one tonight. I wanted to be his plus-everything.
“You okay?”
I forced a nod, trapping every last thought in my head, saving them for another time and place. You know, for an alternate universe where we could be together.
I finished putting on my heels, and only once I had my balance did he let me go.
“You look nice, by the way.” There was a strange dryness to his tone. Like it took all his energy to rip the compliment from his mouth. And with that, he abruptly left my side, went to the window, and parted the curtains. “Enzo has the Porsche parked out front. Surprised he’s letting us take it.”
Me, too.
Letting the curtains fall into place, he turned around, scanning the room as if only now realizing he was in the sacred space where I slept. Where I got undressed every day. Took care of my own personal, and pleasurable, needs. Did all the things one did in a bedroom.
He cleared his throat. “You’d think when they remodeled they’d have put the primary bedroom on the other side so there’d be a view of the river.”
“Right, a view of the Hudson River from a home in Hudson Yards, where I’m now standing in my bedroom with a man named Hudson.”
I’d been swimming in a sea of reminders of this man at every turn. It was no wonder I couldn’t get him out of my head, even when we weren’t at the office or all of us hanging out at the bar he owned. A bar called Hudson’s, of course.
I was met with a look that could penetrate steel as he joked, “Can’t get rid of me, huh?”
“I never want to.” That bit of pure truth floated on a breath between us.
Hudson opened his mouth to respond but never had a chance to say whatever was on his mind, because we were no longer alone.
“You two good?” Constantine’s voice echoed around us and into the four chambers of my heart, causing it to skip a beat.
Our attention jerked toward the doorway where my brother stood, his muscular frame filling out the space. Although he’d be on comms tonight, he was still sporting a suit in case anything did go sideways and he had to make an appearance at the party.
“I asked him to go over the mission details again.” The words barreled from my mouth fast, my nerves propelling me forward to eat up some of the space between myself and my brother.
For a moment, I was sixteen again, and Constantine had come home earlier than expected on leave from the Navy, catching me making out with my boyfriend. A boyfriend who called later that night and broke up with me. And why wouldn’t he? Constantine told him if he were ever alone in my bedroom again with me, he’d remove his ability to grope me by cutting off both of his hands.
Heaven help my brother’s future kids when they began dating.
“You worried about something?” Like all of my brothers, the subtle notes of an Italian accent floated through Constantine’s voice whenever he spoke. Sometimes his accent was absent altogether. But then there were moments like now when it became much more pronounced.
I shook my head and started babbling. “Tonight will be super easy. Well, my part, at least. I just need to go as Hudson’s arm candy. Easy peasy.”
But really, it would be as simple as simple could be. Minus the heart pitter-pattering going on, the chills down my spine, the picture between the magazines, my smorgasbord of feelings that were all over the place right now, and my pulse still firmly cemented in my ears. You know, despite that.
“You’ll never be arm candy.” Hudson’s words had Constantine shooting him a funny look.
Yeah, well, his comment earned a what-the-hell one from me, too.
“Not what I meant.” Hudson grimaced before peering at me. In an almost somber tone, he clarified, “There’s just a lot more to you than being a beautiful woman.”
Well . . . damn. Then I remembered we weren’t alone and glanced at my brother to see if Hudson’s words ignited stars in his eyes like they did in mine. That was highly unlikely. Well, unless they were laser-guided throwing stars.
Constantine zeroed in on Hudson in the same questioning way I’d seen him do toward all my past boyfriends. They were best friends. Why wouldn’t he want his best friend as a brother-in-law?
Okay, I was jumping the gun there, but still.
“We should go,” my brother stated, then mumbled something in Italian under his breath.
Being the only sibling born in the U.S. meant I had no accent, and my Italian was subpar compared to my parents and brothers. But I still spoke it, and it only took me a second to rewind his words and translate them.
Don’t make me kill you one day.
So, you know . . . that’s great. I rolled my eyes, giving Constantine the proper amount of time to translate that expression.
He grunted and turned to the side, gesturing for me to get my ass moving. The man acted like my father, even though our dad was very much a part of our lives. “A word,” he said to Hudson, but from the corner of my eye, I caught Hudson lifting his chin like a directive.
“Someone needs to help her down the stairs so she doesn’t trip.” Hudson’s gentlemanly gesture was appreciated, but I was doubtful it would earn him extra points from my overbearing brother.
Constantine hollered down to Alessandro for an assist. “Give us a second,” he requested once I was in the hall, closing my door to my room and leaving me out of the conversation.
“That man drives me nuts sometimes,” I muttered as Alessandro met me at the top of the stairs and offered his arm.
“He makes us all crazy, trust me.” Alessandro shrugged. “Guessing he had issues with you being alone in your bedroom with his best friend, huh?”
I shot him a look over my shoulder. “He remembers I’m thirty-two, right?”
“Doubtfully.”
Callie was waiting for us at the bottom of the stairs. “Everything okay?”
“From what I can tell, Constantine’s just being an idiota.” Alessandro let me go and hooked his arm around his wife’s back, drawing her tight to his side. The man couldn’t go a second without touching her if they were in the same room, and I loved that.
My gorgeous, sweet sister-in-law proved that alleged cold, dead hearts could be revived. Because Alessandro had once believed that organ in his chest was long gone, but everything changed once she came into his life.
“I still can’t get over you in that dress.” Callie clapped her hands together near her mouth.
“Thank you for raiding your closet and bringing this ball gown with you. Most of my wardrobe consists of jeans and tees with inappropriate sayings.”
“And that just makes me love you all that much more.” She shifted free of her husband’s hold to reach for my forearms and lightly squeezed, continuing to appreciate the gown. “It was made just for me, but it looks even better on you.”
“Surprised I didn’t need to stuff socks in the built-in bra to fill up the top,” I said with a chuckle, and Callie let go of me and flicked her wrist at my joke. But really, she was way more endowed there than I was.
“That’s an Ella McAdams original,” she added, and my brain short-circuited for probably the third time tonight.
I’m wearing Ella’s dress? I’d met her and her husband at Callie and Alessandro’s wedding in Nashville in August, but my family already had a history with Ella’s husband.
Not only did Enzo know Jesse from some past-life “employment,” but he’d been the one to break the news to Enzo last year that our sister Bianca’s murderer wasn’t quite as six feet under as we’d all thought. Thankfully, her killer was now, but . . .
Shit. That was definitely not what I needed to be thinking about right now. So much for all that hard work to compartmentalize my thoughts and push forward for the sake of the mission tonight. Gone, gone, gone. Nerves firmly in place once again.
“Anyway.” Alessandro with the award-winning redirect, somehow recognizing I needed a subject change. Maybe he did, too.
Fortunately, Enzo provided a much-needed distraction. He casually strolled into the foyer, dangling a slice of pizza between his fingers. “You two can’t keep your hands off each other.”
“Like you’re any better with Maria,” Alessandro reminded him, and Enzo chased away a smirk with the back of his hand.
Both Enzo and Alessandro had flown in for this last-minute op. While Callie had been able to make the trip with Alessandro, Enzo had to leave his wife back home in Charlotte since she was pregnant with twins. He’d been hesitant to be away from Maria, but Hudson—who was spearheading this operation—had promised the mission would be quick. Hudson had accepted the job as a personal favor for his dad.
“Why are you wolfing down pizza right now?” Alessandro asked Enzo after he’d devoured the slice in practically two bites.
“Can’t operate on an empty stomach,” Enzo said around a mouthful, brushing the crumbs on the sides of his black fatigues.
He and Alessandro were in military clothes, charged with handling the dangerous behind-the-scenes work while I went as Hudson’s plus-one to the fancy A-list political soiree at some big campaign donor’s home in Scarsdale.
“Don’t worry, I left you a slice.” Enzo winked at our brother before directing his attention to the stairs behind me.
Ah, the eldest has returned. Hopefully he didn’t lay into Hudson about being in my bedroom.
The fact Hudson didn’t make eye contact with me as he came down had my concerns rebooting. But at least I was once again distracted from the OG problem of the evening: the mystery photo.
Enzo reached into his pocket and tossed his keys to Hudson. “No scratches.” Although Enzo didn’t live in New York anymore, and we’d converted his former home in Chelsea into the new headquarters for our off-the-books security company, he’d kept his beloved Porsche in the city to use whenever he visited.
“I’ll be on my best behavior.” Pretty sure there was some double meaning from Hudson on that, especially when Constantine nodded at him.
I bit back a resigned sigh, then went through the motions of hugging everyone goodbye as if I were going off to war instead of to a party.
“I’ll be just down the block from the location,” Constantine promised in my ear during our quick embrace. “I’ve got your six. No worries.”
“Thank you.” I patted his arm and faced the door, finding Hudson holding it open with his back.
As we started for Enzo’s metallic-gray Porsche by the curb, Hudson commented, “It’s just a quickie, no sweat.” He abruptly added, “You know what I mean.” How many times had that phrase left his mouth tonight?
“But do I?” I teased.
“Just get in,” he ordered, fighting off a smile.
Maybe you aren’t so allergic to me after all?
He extended his forearm so I could keep my balance and duck inside, but with the odd feeling we were being watched—and not by my siblings—I stole a look at the building on the other side of the street.
Chills scraped over my skin, goose bumps forming there.
“Something wrong?” Hudson asked as the curtains on the fourth floor swooshed closed.
“No.”
I’d barely squeezed the word out between my teeth before he helped me inside. Hand on the roof of the car while holding the door open, he stared down at me. “You sure you’re okay?”
Eyes on the road ahead so I wouldn’t lie straight to his face, I whispered, “Absolutely.”
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