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Twenty-Five

Dash

Today was my first day on an actual assignment.

It was light work, taking a legendary octogenarian Hollywood actress to the doctor.

She’s been my client from the beginning, and at ninety-one years young is still pretty spry.

She always flirts with me shamelessly and almost lost her mind when she found out I’d been injured.

I had to give her every detail of my surgery and recovery, and somehow, I found myself telling her all about Willow.

Her brows lifted way up on her forehead. “Willow… St. Claire?” she asked in her British accent. “What a beautifully damaged young woman.”

“She’s not damaged,” I muttered. “Unless you count the physical bruises that bastard left on her.”

This time her brows knitted with concern. “ Dylan Durand . Never liked him. Wanker.”

I smiled. “I’m protecting her—and in the process falling for her.”

This made her smile, forcing the entire story out of me even though it was only a fifteen-minute drive to the doctor’s office.

“Take care of her,” she whispered when I dropped her off.

“And not just her body. Her mind, her soul, all of her. She may look like a princess living in a gilded cage, but she’s a human being.

And if she’s not ill, then she needs the world to see it.

Trust me on this, Hudson. The best response is for everyone to see her living her best life.

” She patted my arm, kissed my cheek, and smiled before closing the door.

And I’ve thought of nothing else.

Has it been a mistake keeping Willow cooped up in my very safe, very private house?

Where no one can find her, see her, or do anything to hurt her?

She’s been antsy the last few days, and I feel bad, but I’m also afraid of what Dylan might do if he gets his hands on her.

Afraid he’ll take her where even I can’t find her—and then what?

The smell of something amazing hits my nostrils the minute I walk in and I smile. She’s gotten serious about learning to cook and the results have been incredible. I’m going to have to spend a lot more time on the treadmill if she keeps this up.

“Hey, babe.” I walk into the kitchen and press my lips to hers.

“Hi.” She kisses me back but quickly turns away, grabbing a potholder and pulling something out of the oven.

“What is it today?” I ask with interest.

“Osso Buco.”

Braised veal shanks? Yes, please.

“Holy… you’ve upped the stakes to a point I may have to fire Judith and hire you instead.” Judith is my housekeeper.

“Well, I’m going to need to start earning money again,” she replies, laughing. “I can think of worse jobs.”

“Do you… miss acting?” I ask carefully.

She nods. “Absolutely. But I don’t know that Hollywood is going to welcome me back with open arms. Not with the slaughter job Dylan has done to my reputation.”

“We’re going to fix it,” I say. “In fact, we’re going to dinner with Atlas and Madeline tomorrow night to talk about it.”

“We are?” She frowns. “Where?”

“Atlas made a reservation at Craig’s for tomorrow evening.”

Her eyes round. “ Craig’s? But we can’t… I mean, I can’t…” She sputters and then seems to catch herself. She lifts her chin a tiny bit. “Is that a good idea?”

“Why not? It’s a trendy Los Angeles restaurant where affluent people go for good food and a nice atmosphere. Is that not us?”

She seems to be taking it in. Mulling it over. As if this is some kind of monumental decision. And I have to let her sort it out.

“Madeline says it’s her favorite,” I add in a cajoling voice.

She still doesn’t react.

“Babe?” Now I’m getting a little worried.

“What am I going to wear?” she finally asks. “I didn’t bring anything for…going out to dinner.”

“Then I guess we should go shopping. In the morning.”

She doesn’t say anything but comes over and wraps her arm around my middle. And in the quietest voice whispers, “Thank you.”

We pull up to Craig’s in my SUV. Ty is driving and will be on duty tonight since I don’t trust Dylan not to try something.

I can handle myself, and so can Atlas, but I can’t handle a situation discreetly while simultaneously making sure Willow and Madeline are also safe, so this is an easier solution.

For some reason, Willow seems taken with Ty—in a sweet, platonic way, I’m in no way jealous—and him with her.

He came back from Afghanistan with a slew of ghosts and she battles her own, and they seem to have found a connection.

God knows, she needs friends, so I’m happy to indulge her in this. Well, in anything, really.

If she’s happy, I’m happy.

Once we’re seated and wine has been poured, Atlas wastes no time in getting us up to speed.

“Unfortunately,” he says with a scowl, “your bank account is currently empty.”

“Empty?” She blinks. “What are you talking about? How can it be…empty?”

“That bottom feeder obviously transferred everything to his personal accounts.”

Willow pulls in a shaky breath and it’s obvious she’s on the verge of tears, but before I can do something, she juts out her jaw. “How do we get it back?” she demands in a quiet but steely voice.

Atlas almost smiles—it happens rarely. Usually only for Frankie. Or if he fucks over someone who’s tried to fuck him over. He’s terrifying if you don’t know him as well as I do.

“Well, let’s get the bad news out of the way first,” Madeline says, her tone easygoing but careful.

“There’s more bad news beyond me being completely broke?” Willow sighs.

“Dylan has gotten a restraining order against you.”

“Against me? ” Willow gapes at her.

“Basically he’s trying to make sure you can’t get any more of your things by showing up at the house when he’s not there. And I believe he’s attending some film festival next week, so this is his way of making sure you can’t take anything else.”

Atlas makes a strangled sound—like he wants to hurt someone—and I’m right there with him, but I try to mask my anger for Willow’s sake.

“Fuck him,” she mutters.

“Exactly.” Madeline pulls some papers out of her bag.

“So. We’ve officially retained Kate Martensson, the crisis control manager, and she’s got a few things in the works.

First, Alexa Humboldt is holding a ladies’ only tea on Sunday, giving attendees first dibs at her new line.

It’s one hundred women, including some of her wealthiest and most trusted clients. Kate got you on the list.”

“But you just told me I’m broke?” Willow looks at me and holds up a finger before I can talk. “Don’t you dare say you’ll pay for it!”

I hold up my hands in surrender. “No, dear. Absolutely not. I would never.”

She makes a face. “Hudson…”

“You two can bicker later,” Madeline says. “This is on my dime, as part of our campaign to fix your image and get you back out there. I’m certain Atlas and Hudson can cover it if you try to dodge the bill.”

Willow flushes.

Money is such a difficult topic for her, and short-term, there’s nothing I can do to fix that.

“That bastard robbed her,” I growl. “I mean, how is this legal?”

“He has legal control. Her mother set it up when she was a minor, and she’s never challenged it as an adult.”

“Can I challenge it now?” Willow asks.

“Of course. That’s what we’re getting ready to do. But first, we start fixing your image. Sunday is the private tea, and I believe sometime next week you’re all going to see some country star perform?”

Atlas rolls his eyes but nods. “Yes. Jade set it up. We’ll be backstage and at an after party of some kind with Lily Maxwell. They’re good friends.”

“Oh!” Willow’s face brightens. “I love her music. She’s wonderful. How exciting that I’ll get to meet her.”

“And you’re also going to throw Aspen a baby shower,” I say. “I mean, Briar is throwing it, but we’re switching it up to say you and Briar are throwing it together.”

Madeline is making notes. “Yes, Kate is going to attend and make sure lots of curated photos flood social media.”

“Is…Aspen okay with that?” Willow asks.

“She is if it helps you,” Atlas responds.

“And it appears that I’m going to have a cold at the next Vipers game,” I say, shrugging. “Briar and Atlas will be out of town, so you, Jade, and Aspen are taking Frankie.”

“Lots of ladies-only events,” Willow muses. “This is by design?”

“It’s easy to show that a beautiful woman can get a man,” Madeline says pragmatically. “But making girlfriends is harder. And children up the ante. Even if they don’t mention it, everyone knows that children are the best judges of character. There has to be a reason a four-year-old likes you.”

“I don’t feel right using Frankie that way,” Willow says, turning to me worriedly.

I just laugh. “You do know that Auntie Willow/Princess Cinderella is her favorite person on earth at the moment, right? Although she doesn’t know what’s going on with Dylan, obviously, having us take her to the game while Mommy’s away was her idea. I’ll just be sick at the last minute.”

“Oh. But what if Dylan tries something when we’re together and?—”

“You don't think you’ll actually be alone?” Atlas snorts.

“Jade always has security now,” I add. “And Ty will be with you whenever I’m not. Don’t worry about your safety—or Frankie’s.”

“If I’m honest, I’d like to see Dylan try something with Frankie,” Atlas says with a grunt. “Give me an excuse to?—”

“Atlas.” Madeline gives him a stern look. “Do not utter those words aloud. We’re in public. Do you understand me?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He doesn’t finish his thought but the look on his face tells me he’s still thinking about it.

Hell, I think of little else these days.

Hurting Dylan and taking care of Willow are the main things on my mind, twenty-four-seven.

“What about my money?” Willow asks after a moment. “At the very least, the money he owes me for the allowance I never got?”

“I just hired a forensic accountant.” Madeline smiles, and it might be the most wicked thing I’ve ever seen. “He’s going to rue the day he ever took a dime he wasn’t entitled to.”