“Right, of course. I better get going anyway.” He took her by the shoulders and kissed her cheek. “I’m proud of you, Ani. Never forget that.”

As she watched him leave, she knew she never would.

chapter fifteen

Annika checked her lip gloss in the rearview mirror one last time, her nerves jumping, before she got out of her car. She’d parked in one of many guest parking spaces assigned to Hudson’s penthouse, ready to pick him up and take him to her dad’s house for dinner. They’d decided to drive together, since Hudson didn’t really know where it was.

As she gave her name to the doorman and got on the penthouse elevator, Annika couldn’t help but think about all the different shades of Hudson she’d gotten to see lately, like a multifaceted onyx she held in the palm of her hand. Not just flat black, but purple and red and blue and green, too many hues for her eyes to hold on to and appreciate. What colors would she find tonight?

She pressed the button that would alert him he had a visitor.

“Annika?” his voice crackled over the intercom.

She felt a fresh flurry of nerves, which she tried to quell. So what, so what, so what. It was just a voice. He was just a man. “Yeah.” Her voice was slightly squeaky.

“Come on up.” She heard a slight smile in his voice.

For the first time since high school, Annika found herself wondering what her dad’s place would look like to a stranger—especially Hudson, who came from a working-class family. Hopefully he wouldn’t think she was a spoiled princess who’d grown up with everything she could ever want. Plus, hello. She’d seen his penthouse, and it wasn’t exactly Skid Row.

Oh, come on, she told herself sternly as the elevator zipped upward. What do you care what Hudson Craft thinks of you or how you grew up? It’s immaterial. She shouldn’t care. She didn’t.

There was a ping as the elevator came to a stop at Hudson’s, and the doors slid open noiselessly. Annika straightened her shoulders, her heart pounding just a little bit faster than necessary.

“Good evening,” Hudson said, as soon as she emerged into his living room. He bent down to air-kiss her, smelling fresh and expensive, dressed in a crisp turquoise polo shirt and long pale yellow shorts.

“You look summery,” Annika said, stepping back to size him up, though it was almost too much to actually meet his eye. She was feeling … shy, she realized. “Smell like it, too.” Her hands tightened into fists as she heard herself. What the actual hell?