Release Me (6 page)

Allie crossed her legs in the back of the limo and adjusted her black evening gown. With its square neckline and figure-skimming silhouette, the sleeveless, floor-length dress had always been one of her favorites. But tonight she’d chosen it simply for its color.

The ride from her Astor Place brownstone to the Art Institute was a short one, but the traffic moved at a crawl down Michigan Avenue, and the wait at each red light only gave her more time to think about the evening that lay ahead of her. She’d attended more charity events than she could count, as a guest and then more recently as part of the fund-raising team at the Ingram Foundation, but this was different. This time she was the only surviving member of the family and she was attending the event to accept a posthumous award on her late mother’s behalf.

As the limo rolled to a stop in front of the museum, it wasn’t the two bronze lions flanking the stone steps that caught her eye. It was the Chicago Symphony Orchestra on the opposite side of the street that drew her gaze. Light glowed in the soaring arched windows, and as she watched the patrons mingling in front of the glass, she felt a sense of peace unlike any she’d felt in weeks.

“I’ll have security back them up before I open the door,” her driver said, grounding her in the moment. It was just as well. There wasn’t time for a trip down memory lane. She had a press line to face¸ the first one since her parents’ murder. And judging by the photographers surrounding the limo, more than a few tabloid freelancers to deal with as well. She needed to keep her focus on that, not box seats and velvet curtains.

Event security did their best to herd the paparazzi back to the sidewalk, and the limo door swung open as soon as a path was cleared. The flash of cameras blinded her the moment she stepped out of the limo, and she felt a sudden surge of panic as the images captured by the coroner’s flashbulbs fired in sequence through her mind. She pulled her velvet wrap tighter and took a deep breath. She could do this. She was Alessandra Ingram Sinclair. And while she might have come to resent the way her parents had raised her, in essence her entire life had prepared her for what she now had to face.

So despite how she was feeling inside, Allie held her head high as she walked the length of the press gauntlet. She’d told the event organizers she wouldn’t be taking any questions, but that didn’t stop the photographers from shouting to her as they clamored for the perfect shot. The badged press mostly called out her name or requests to “look this way,” but the freelancers behind the barricades were more creative. There was no limit to the depths to which they would sink in their attempt to garner a reaction they could capture on film and sell to TMZ.

“No date tonight?”

“Show us some skin, baby.”

“Any truth to the rumor it was a professional hit?”

The last one almost broke her but she somehow managed to keep her mask firmly in place, smiling and nodding at the appropriate times, as she made her way inside.

Her new assistant was waiting for her just inside the doors. With his boyish grin and wayward, light brown hair falling casually over sexy green eyes, Colin James looked more like the member of a popular British boy band than an executive assistant. But his résumé proved he was more than just a pretty face. Top in his class at Northwestern, he’d explained during his interview how he was looking to get a few years of experience under his belt, not to mention cash in his bank account, before pursuing his MBA. His classes at Medill had given him a keen insight into cutting-edge media, and his passion for classical music rivaled her own. Allie had liked him right from the start.

“Would it be unprofessional of me to tell you how beautiful you look?” he asked, cocking a lopsided grin.

Allie raised a brow. “Flattery won’t get you a raise, Colin. You’ve only been on the job one day.”

“And look at me.” He waved a hand in front of his black tuxedo, perfectly paired with a simple yet elegant straight black tie. “I’m already at the event of the weekend.” His grin widened. “I think I’m going to like this job.”

“I’ll remind you of that the first night I keep you at the office past midnight.”

Colin laughed. “As long as you buy me breakfast after you use me and abuse me.”

Allie smiled. Working with Colin was never going to be dull, that she knew for sure. And if his letters of recommendation were any indication, he was going to be a valuable asset as well. “Shall we?” she asked.

“Lead the way, boss lady.”

Colin followed Allie up the marble staircase to a reception area where they were immediately greeted by a server passing a tray of pink champagne. Allie took one and sipped it while taking a mental inventory of the room. Tuxedo-clad waiters passed trays of the usual fare of beef Wellington, crab cakes, and spring rolls, while event organizers busied themselves with the silent auction. The décor was elegant and understated with stately columns lining the atrium, bathed in up-lighting to draw the eye to the soaring glass ceiling. In the center of the room, linen-draped tables of ten were arranged around a dance floor where a band played customary songs. She was surprised to find guests were already dancing, but other than that everything about the event was exactly what she’d expected, right down the clusters of middle-aged women gossiping behind champagne flutes while their husbands congregated around the bar. Allie recognized most of them as friends of her parents. She glanced at her watch. With any luck dinner would be served soon, keeping the inane small talk to a minimum.

“Alessandra,” a voice called out from behind her. Allie turned to find Elizabeth Prescott, her mother’s former doubles partner, cutting a path in her direction. She approached in a cloud of Chanel and greeted Allie with an air-kiss to each cheek. “Darling, you look beautiful considering the circumstances.”

Allie briefly wondered why even a compliment somehow sounded like an insult when it came out of that woman’s mouth, before deciding it wasn’t worth the effort. “Thank you.” She took a gulp of champagne while listening to a scathing review of an event that had barely begun.

“I mean, is it too much to ask for a decent Chardonnay? The ticket prices keep going up but they insist on serving the house wine.”

Colin stepped forward, his hand touching Allie’s elbow. “Care to dance?” When he was met with Elizabeth’s questioning stare he simply flashed her a disarming smile. “Sorry, it’s just that I’m a huge Sinatra fan.”

“If you’ll excuse me. I can’t very well say no to Sinatra, now can I?”

Colin led her to the dance floor. “I hope I didn’t overstep there, but you had a decidedly pained expression on your face.”

Allie laughed quietly. “Sounds like I need to work on my game face.”

He pulled her into his arms and they glided effortlessly around the dance floor. It seemed Colin was not only a mind reader but a skilled dancer as well, traits that would no doubt prove invaluable at future events.

“Swanky events aside, I think I’m going to like working for you.”

Allie tilted her head back to look at him. “You haven’t seen me before coffee. You may change your mind.”

“Ah, yes—cappuccino, skim milk, extra foam with a smattering of cinnamon. But that’s only in the afternoon. For the morning it’s a skinny vanilla latte, two pumps, light foam.” He grinned down at Allie’s wide eyes and shrugged. “I did my research.”

“How did you—”

His grin turned sheepish. “Okay, I grilled your friend before I put her call through this morning. She’s quite a trip, that one.”

Allie shook her head and smiled. “Well, don’t believe a word she says. Except about the coffee; that part was right.”

He chuckled. “I’ll keep that in mind.” They twirled across the parquet floor, and for the first time in days Allie felt herself relax ever so slightly.

“Dear lord, is that Taylor Kinney?” Colin asked.

Allie followed his gaze to the bar. “Could be. His show films here and the cast is very involved in local charities.”

An audible gasp escaped his lips. “You don’t think Gaga is here with him, do you?” Colin’s eyes darted around the room, no doubt looking for a blonde in a sheer beaded gown and elaborate headdress. Allie took the opportunity to steal a glance over his shoulder. The last of the guests were filtering into the atrium and she scanned their faces, making a mental note of who she’d need to greet before making her escape. Despite Colin’s best efforts at distracting her, she was anxious to accept the award, shake a few hands and get the hell out of there. Allie knew this was an important event, not only for honoring her mother’s memory, but for establishing herself and her new title within the business community. Still, after everything she’d endured the past two weeks, it would have been nice to catch her breath before diving in headfirst. The thought of yoga pants, ice cream, and a late-night movie was the only thing getting her through the next hour of high heels, catering food, and networking.

By the time the song came to an end she’d added three more “must sees” to her list.

“Thank you for the dance,” she said. “And the rescue. Now go check out the Seurat before they announce dinner.”

Colin backed away with an exaggerated bow, and for the second time that night Allie laughed. But when she turned to the mingling crowd her smile slipped from her face. Her breath caught and her steps faltered.

Hudson.

Allie stood motionless, unable to look away as he entered the reception area and shook hands with several people. The expression on his face was all business, and yet there was something so inherently sensual about the way he moved. He wore a black tuxedo, Ralph Lauren if she wasn’t mistaken, that fit the contours of his body in a way that made it impossible not to imagine the hard planes of muscle that lay beneath. But it wasn’t the sight of Hudson Chase in a tuxedo that caused an unwelcome tightness in Allie’s chest. It wasn’t even his dark wavy hair, perfectly messed with that sexy, just-rolled-out-of-bed look that made her fingers flex with an instinctive desire to touch it. It was the voluptuous brunette draped on his arm.

Sophia.

Allie recognized her immediately from the event at the Field Museum the night she and Hudson had first become reacquainted. She looked as stunning as she had that night. Her dress wasn’t red this time, but instead a champagne color a few shades lighter than her flawless bronze skin. And her long dark curls were piled loosely on top of her head, not cascading over her bare shoulders, but the effect was no less devastating. The woman had the curves of a centerfold and a face worthy of the cover. Hudson had insisted they hadn’t been seeing each other, but Allie got the distinct impression their arrangement was more than just a few casual dates. It was obvious the way Sophia’s hand stroked Hudson’s forearm, she was under that impression as well.

He flicked his gaze briefly to her hand, then back up. When he did his eyes met Allie’s and he stilled. A crowded ballroom stood between them, but in that moment it felt as though they were the only two people in the room.

Then Sophia shifted in front of him, her perfectly manicured fingers reaching up to straighten his already immaculate tie, and the spell was broken. Allie let out the breath she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding and quickly scanned the room for the nearest exit. She needed to get some fresh air, touch up her makeup, or even just wander through an exhibit. Anything to put enough distance between the two of them for her to regain her focus.

She’d barely made it ten yards when someone stepped in front of her, blocking her way. Instinctively she knew who it was and her heart hammered inside her chest. She looked up and met Hudson’s steely glare. He moved quickly, catching her by surprise. His hand wrapped around her arm, and before she could form a word, much less a sentence, she was being propelled out of the atrium.

“What are you doing?” She struggled against his grip, but deep down a thrill shot through her at his primitive display. Obviously she’d misjudged the lengths to which he’d go to win her back.

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m causing a scene.”

“Let go of me.” Allie glanced over her shoulder to the corner of the room and was relieved to find the press corps otherwise occupied.

Hudson followed her stare. “No, they haven’t noticed yet. But they will, so do us both a favor and stop resisting me.”

She almost laughed out loud. Of course she had to resist him. She couldn’t let her guard down because if she let him get close enough, if she let him touch her, she’d never have the strength to tell him to stop. As it was his mere proximity and the way his body brushed against hers as they walked caused a ripple of awareness to rush like a fever across her skin.

He pulled her toward a set of double doors and into an empty corridor.

“Why are you here?” she asked the moment they were alone.

His gaze traveled over her face before finally settling on her eyes. He narrowed his, and for moment she thought perhaps he could see the fissure in her fragile determination. A simple step back would have cleared her head, but Allie was frozen, overwhelmed by the sheer masculine scent of him.

Hudson lifted his hand as if to touch her cheek and Allie felt her breath quicken. If he stepped closer, if his lips brushed against hers, would she have the resolve to push him away? Or would her hands find their way into his hair, pulling him closer as she pressed her body to his? The thought alone caused her traitorous body to betray her. Her nipples hardened against the bodice of her gown and heat pooled between her thighs. In that moment she knew if he lowered his mouth, if he coaxed her lips apart with gentle flicks of his tongue, she’d all but beg him to take her—in the museum, the limo, his bed—anything to dull the shameless ache she felt for him.

But he dropped his hand and then shoved it through his unruly hair. “I bought these tickets weeks ago. I thought perhaps we’d be attending this event together.”

Hudson stepped back enough for Allie to regain an ounce of composure. The physical need for him faded and in its place surged feelings of rage and betrayal, made stronger by the anger she felt toward herself for continuing to react to him the way she did. It was as if she was drawn to him by some inexplicable unseen force that rendered her all but helpless. Or maybe it was him, the sheer force of his will. Either way it had to end. Hudson might have been able to orchestrate it so he wasn’t out of her life completely, but at the very least he was out of her bed. And judging by the display she’d just witnessed, he hadn’t wasted any time filling the vacancy.