Christina’s POV
Ysolde kicked my flat door open without knocking. "Up. Now. You’re not rotting here tonight."
I didn’t look up from my wine. "I’m busy."
She snatched the bottle from my hands. "Staring at walls isn’t a hobby."
Before I could argue, she yanked to my feet and shoved into a taxi.
La Lune was all neon lights and sweat, air thick with perfu and pounding bass. On stage, a guy in a half-unbuttoned police uniform swung around a pole while the crowd went wild.
Ysolde pushed into a velvet booth. "Two vodka sodas. And tell Antoine I want the special for her." She pointed at .
"No specials," I said firmly.
"Bullshit." She leaned closer. "You need to loosen up. Two months is plenty to get over a man. Even one like Hudson."
"I am over him."
The drinks arrived, followed by a tall, dark-haired man with a jawline sharp enough to cut glass.
His smile was too practiced, his eyes too hungry.
"This one’s shy," Ysolde told him, slipping a fifty into his waistband. "Be persuasive."
He knelt in front of , fingers sliding up my thigh. "You’re much prettier than the other girls here."
My skin crawled. "Don’t."
He grinned and leaned closer. "Co on, sweetheart—"
I shoved him back hard enough to knock him on his ass.
Ysolde groaned. "Seriously, Chrissy? You’re acting like he has rabies."
"I’m not paying to be groped by strangers."
"You’re not paying, I am." She flicked her fingers at the dancer. "Go on, she’s hopeless."
As he slunk away, Ysolde turned on . "My new boyfriend’s a model. He’s got friends. Hot ones. We could double date."
"No thanks. I’m fine."
"Liar." She jabbed my chest with her finger. "You’re not fine. You just keep saying you are."
The music was deafening. I downed my drink. "Can we not do this?"
She opened her mouth, then sighed. "Fine. But you’re drinking properly tonight."
And we did.
An hour later, Ysolde abandoned for a drinking ga with a group of n who looked like they’d been carved from marble. I escaped to the rooftop terrace.
Cold air hit my face. Below, Paris sparkled. Above, fireworks burst in golden streaks, reminding of the ones Hudson had arranged for my birthday.
I checked my phone. Missed calls from Niall and Daniel.
Nothing from Hudson.
"He doesn’t care anymore," I whispered to myself. Akira whimpered in response.
When I returned to our table, Ysolde thrust an envelope at . "Take this."
"What is it?" I looked at the envelope.
"Cruise to the diterranean. You need to get away from work. New scenery will do you good."
She had a point. I took the envelope. "Are you coming?"
"Nope. It’s a singles’ cruise. You’re getting on that ship even if I have to tie you up and throw you aboard myself."
"Still determined to set up, huh?"
"And I won’t stop until I see a genuine smile on that face again."
I leaned down and kissed my best friend’s forehead. "Thanks, Ysolde."
However, my gratitude toward Ysolde vanished within the first hour of boarding the cruise.
"You’re a liar," I snapped the second Ysolde answered her phone.
"What now?" She yawned loudly into the receiver.
"You told this was a singles’ cruise."
"It is."
"No, it’s not," I hissed.
"Why not?"
"I just saw Hudson." Even saying his na sent a painful jolt through my chest.
It had been almost three months since our breakup. Three months of trying to forget him. Three months pretending I didn’t miss the feel of his arms around .
Sohow, he looked even more imposing than I rembered.
While other passengers embraced vacation mode in shorts and Hawaiian shirts, Hudson remained in crisp black trousers and a fitted black button-down that emphasized his broad shoulders.
His re presence parted crowds like Moses at the Red Sea, that subtle Alpha aura warning others to keep their distance.
A few brave won approached him, drawn by his face that belonged on a Renaissance painting, but they quickly retreated when they noticed the blonde beside him.
"Did you really?" Ysolde’s fake surprise wouldn’t fool a child. "What a coincidence!"
"Bullshit. Did he put you up to this?"
"Nope."
"Try again, liar."
"Still nope. He’s single, isn’t he? You’re single. Therefore, singles’ cruise." The smugness in her voice was unmistakable.
"This isn’t over. The second I get off this floating prison, I’m coming for you—"
"Yeah, yeah, threaten later. You’re stuck there for a week, so might as well enjoy it. Have fun!"
She hung up before I could curse her out properly.
I flopped onto the cabin bed, staring at the ceiling. Seven days trapped on a cruise ship with Hudson Laurent, and the man whose absence felt like missing a limb.
Could things get any worse?
The universe apparently took that as a challenge.
The only thing worse than running into your ex-husband is seeing him with a gorgeous woman while you’re pathetically alone.
At the welco ball, basically an elaborate singles’ mixer, I nearly bolted when I spotted them. Unfortunately, a group of college kids surged forward behind , pushing further into the ballroom.
Lea wore a wine-red dress that complented her blonde hair perfectly. She wasn’t clinging to Hudson, but their body language told the story—the way she leaned in to whisper sothing, the casual intimacy of longti companions.
I tried to stay hidden, but I couldn’t stop watching him.
He must have felt my stare. The mont he turned in my direction, I ducked behind a marble column.
"Real mature, Christina," I muttered to myself. Why was I hiding? We were both adults. I could handle a simple conversation.
"Hi there." Lea appeared suddenly, holding a wine glass and extending her free hand. "I’m Lea Lopez."
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