Christina’s POV
Hudson reached across the bed and tapped my shoulder. "The hotel staff is totally professional. I promise they won’t give you any weird looks or anything."
I didn’t answer, just pulled the covers over my head and buried myself deeper.
The mattress dipped as Hudson slipped under the blanket and pressed his lips to my ear. His breath was warm against my skin, making shiver.
"They dropped those off hours ago while you were sleeping," he whispered. "But you’re definitely awake now."
I knew exactly where this was going. I felt his arm reach across , heard his fingers brush the nightstand. The sound of foil crinkling made my pulse spike.
Last night had been pure impulse.
I got swept up in the mont—the way he looked at , the way his body responded to mine. It was all instinct and no self-control.
But morning light changed everything. Whatever confidence I’d had last night had disappeared with the darkness.
Still, his body pressed warm against mine.
"Christina," he murmured, his lips moving down my neck. His hand slipped under my shirt, fingers spreading across my stomach.
Hudson’s touch got more purposeful. He cupped my breast, thumb moving in slow circles, and my breath caught. His other hand tugged at my shorts.
"We shouldn’t," I whispered, but my body leaned into his touch.
"Give one good reason why not," he challenged, voice rough. His teeth grazed my ear, sending chills down my spine.
I turned to face him, ready to argue, but his lips found mine.
The kiss was slow, deep, deliberate—nothing like last night’s desperation.
This was careful, controlled, ant to make give in.
And damn it, it was working. My hands found his chest, sliding over solid muscle. I could feel his heart pounding under my palm.
His leg pressed between mine, right where I needed the pressure. I gasped against his mouth.
"I want you so bad," he murmured against my lips. "Can you feel how much?"
He guided my hand down until I felt him, rock hard and straining.
Then my phone lit up and buzzed loudly.
The sound sliced through the heated silence. Neither of us moved at first, frozen in place. Then I bolted, yanking the covers off and scrambling across the bed to grab it.
"I ssaged Ysolde last night," I explained breathlessly. "Could be her."
Hudson sat up with a frustrated growl, shoving the covers off. I could feel his stare burning into my back.
"Is it her?" he asked, voice tight with obvious annoyance.
I didn’t answer imdiately. I was too busy reading the ssage.
"Yeah, it’s her." I swallowed hard. "Apparently, we trended last night on social dia."
I’d completely forgotten. After reposting Hudson’s announcent, things had escalated quickly. Then I got... distracted.
Hudson reached for his own phone. We sat shoulder to shoulder against the headboard, phones in hand, our intimate mont effectively killed.
Ysolde had sent screenshots of comnts with the most engagent:
[The Rowan-Hudson tag got yanked fast. LGH’s PR team must’ve squashed it.]
[So it’s fake then?]
[Could be, but then, so could the Christina-Hudson tag. He’s a famous dude. Lots of posts tag him.]
[Maybe Rowan used him for status, and he’s cutting her off soon.]
[What about @CVanceJewels? She posted their matching rings. That’s clearly Hudson’s hand.]
[I saw @CVanceJewels once. She’s gorgeous. Much better suited to Hudson than Rowan ever was.]
[No way. Rowan Hale is hotter, no contest.]
[@CVanceJewels is just using him to boost her brand. Classic social climber move.]
[They’re similar rings, that’s all. The hand in her post doesn’t match Hudson’s.]
[It absolutely does. Right side of his hand has a distinctive mark. Brighten the image and it’s identical.]
[I don’t buy it. They’re not even in the sa league. ]
[Who even is this @CVanceJewels? No-na designer suddenly with Hudson Laurent? Soone pulled strings.]
[If she’s really his wife, that design contest she won was definitely rigged.]
[They got a full shot of Rowan with him. All anyone has of @CVanceJewels is one photo with two hands. No faces. Could be staged.]
[So obviously faking it. Pathetic.]
[Heard from soone inside The LGH—it’s Rowan. Always has been. Just wait for the official announcent.]
There were three kinds of responses: people who refused to believe it and wanted canceled, people enjoying the drama, and a tiny minority who actually wished us well.
I’d expected this reaction when I posted last night. Seeing it now didn’t hurt as much as I thought it would.
Hudson looked worse than I felt. He kept scrolling, jaw clenched, tapping the screen harder than necessary.
His feed was relatively clean. Mine looked like a dumpster fire. Mockery, insults, and constant accusations of status-chasing.
When I reposted his announcent last night, the replies were mild—mostly debating whether our rings matched. By morning, it had evolved into a full-blown attack.
The LGH ’s PR team had probably tried to contain it, but soone was clearly stoking the flas.
"This is ridiculous," Akira snarled inside . *We’re his Luna. These fools need to show respect.*
"Welco to social dia," I replied dryly.
Hudson kept reading, eyes narrowing dangerously. Then he started typing.
I leaned over and saw he was about to repost my photo—the one with our hands and rings.
I grabbed his wrist. "Don’t."
He paused, thumb hovering above the screen.
"It’ll only make things worse," I said firmly. "You respond now, they’ll twist it. The more you explain, the more they dig. You’re too high-profile in Highrise City. Engaging will just fan the flas."
"So I just let them attack you?" he muttered, his Alpha instincts clearly triggered.
"Let it cool down," I reasoned. "The trend is already fading. Last night it was everywhere. Now it’s barely top ten. If we stay quiet, people will move on. If you post again, it’s another round of harassnt."
He shook his head, eyes flashing gold montarily. "I won’t sit here while they disrespect my Luna."
Before I could respond, his phone buzzed with a notification.
He unlocked it, stared at the screen, then let out a sound that was sowhere between a laugh and a growl.
"What?" I asked, leaning closer.
He tilted the screen toward .
LGH ’s official social dia account had just reposted my photo with the caption: [Mrs Laurent says hello!]
Comnts flooded in almost instantly—less vicious now, more awkward backpedaling. The tone shifted dramatically.
Hudson looked smug and satisfied. His thumb began tapping on the screen again.
"Hudson—" I started to protest.
Too late. He’d already hit post.
I snatched his phone reflexively. He let take it.
I read his new statent: [This is my wife @CVanceJewels.]
The new wave of comnts appeared within seconds:
[@CVanceJewels and Hudson look perfect together. ]
[Think about it. If this was fake, it would’ve fallen apart by now. Obviously real.]
[Where’d all the critics go? Suddenly quiet?]
[Still think Rowan suited him better, but whatever.]
[Let it go. Rowan said they were just acquaintances. You’re embarrassing yourselves.]
[Who cares if Rowan’s famous abroad? She’s irrelevant here. Accept it.]
[Is that really Hudson posting? Or did @CVanceJewels hack his account?]
[Check the verified mark, idiot. ]
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