Christina’s POV
The next night, our rehearsal started over dinner.
I insisted Geoffrey send the staff away, giving us privacy. Instead of sitting across from like usual, Hudson slid into the chair beside , acting like we were already at his grandfather’s party. The perfect couple.
"My uncle Roman will be seated over there," Hudson pointed to an imaginary table. "He claims to be vegetarian to impress his wife Vivian, who’s obsessed with green juices and organic everything. Yet he secretly devours steaks when she’s not looking."
I snorted. "Seriously?"
"Oh, and Uncle Felix? Almost blew up a construction site because he thought a pile of dynamite looked ’fun to play with.’"
I nearly choked on my wine. "Your family is insane."
"Then there’s my cousin Vanessa. Watch out for her. I had her arrested for reckless driving last year. She might try to claw your eyes out."
This was the most Hudson had spoken to since our arrangent began. His delivery was dry and factual, but the stories were oddly entertaining. I found myself relaxing, even laughing occasionally.
"What about your father and stepmother?" I asked.
Sothing flickered in his eyes. "My father will be civil. He needs too much to be otherwise. Gwendolyn will smile to your face while plotting your demise."
"Sounds delightful," I said, taking another sip of wine. "What about your half-brother?"
"Declan? He’ll be drunk before dessert, guaranteed."
After dinner, we continued rehearsing. I’d accepted my fate by then. Just hugging, right?
Except Hudson kept increasing the difficulty level. Front hugs. Side hugs. Handshakes with lingering eye contact. Air kisses where his lips brushed dangerously close to my skin. That dramatic couple’s entrance where I had to hook my arm through his and glide in like we hadn’t been awkward strangers just days ago.
The weirdest part? It started feeling... normal. Dangerously normal. Like my body was forming habits I’d never asked for.
We took a break and sat on the couch. The wine, the late hour, and the emotional exhaustion finally caught up with . I don’t rember falling asleep, but I definitely rember waking up.
My head was on Hudson’s shoulder. My legs were curled up beside . And oh god, I was pretty sure I’d drooled on his expensive shirt.
The wall clock read past ten. Which ant I’d been out cold for nearly two hours.
I jerked upright so fast my vision blurred.
My hair was a disaster. My brain felt like scrambled eggs. And I’d just spent two whole hours unconscious in Hudson Laurent’s arms, like so love-struck heroine.
The worst part? He’d let . He’d just sat there. For two hours. Letting sleep on him like we were... a real couple.
No. Absolutely not.
I swatted those thoughts away and ran fingers through my tangled hair. "Are we good for today?"
"Yes." Hudson leaned back. "We’ll practice again tomorrow. Daily sessions until we et my grandfather, if that works for you."
"Fine," I mumbled, trying not to think about how warm his body had felt against mine.
The Laurents seed like the type to hold family dinners with lie detectors under the placemats. Hudson being pushed aside for his half-brother probably made him a walking target. No wonder he was so calculated about everything.
I stood up. "So... dinner and hugs again tomorrow?"
Maybe we should focus on talking points instead. Family nas, business connections, shareholding percentages...
"No. Tomorrow we rehearse the kiss."
I froze mid-step. Turned slowly.
"Kiss?" I echoed, disbelieving. "As in, actual kiss?"
"Yes," he said simply.
I blinked rapidly. "You an like... an air kiss, right?"
"Do real couples air kiss?" he countered.
"They do if they’re in France."
He raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure the French are only air-kissing and not actually... French kissing?"
My soul left my body.
"We’re not going to French kiss in front of your grandfather, are we? What if he has a heart attack?"
Hudson smiled slightly, which sohow made it worse. "No French. Just a kiss. The kind couples exchange when they’re in love."
Right. No big deal. Just my mouth on his in front of a dying patriarch and a family of professional snoops. Totally casual.
"You’re not joking?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.
"I’m not."
I opened my mouth. Closed it. Tried again. I probably looked like a gasping fish.
"My cousin tried sothing similar once," he said. "Hired a woman to play his girlfriend. It was Christmas Eve, whole family present. They fooled absolutely no one. His mother cut off his allowance for three years. Until he brought ho a real girlfriend."
I stared. "Wait, seriously?"
He gave a look that said ’I-don’t-joke-about-facts.’ "Do I look like I make up stories for entertainnt?"
No. He looked like he filed lawsuits for entertainnt. But that wasn’t the point.
My brain whirred. If soone saw through our act, would Hudson face similar consequences? He didn’t strike as soone who would accept punishnt easily. Still, I’d promised to cooperate.
While I was still processing this bombshell, Hudson stood from the sofa like he hadn’t just demolished my sanity.
He brushed past heading upstairs. "I’ll be ho early tomorrow."
Then he disappeared around the landing.
I stood frozen in the living room until my legs finally protested. I dragged myself upstairs and collapsed face-first onto the massive bed.
As soon as I closed my eyes, the word ’kiss’ started doing cartwheels across my mind.
"This is going to be a disaster," I whispered into the pillow.
"Or amazing," Akira countered. "Our skin tingles every ti he’s near us."
"Not helpful," I growled.
I must have fallen asleep sowhere between panic and denial, because the dream that followed was absolutely inappropriate.
I was flat on my back, pinned to a leather couch I didn’t recognize. Soone was kissing breathless, hot and demanding and way too real. My skin felt like fire, my brain completely shut down.
I tried pushing him away, but every ti I moved, he followed. The world didn’t exist beyond that touch, those hands, that mouth.
I couldn’t see his face clearly, but sothing in recognized him. My body did, anyway; my heart was having a ltdown.
Then, just before dawn, the dream finally gave a na.
Hudson Laurent.
I jolted awake sweating.
"No. No way," I muttered, slapping my cheeks to reboot my brain.
I grabbed my phone. 7:30 AM.
Countdown to kissing practice had officially begun.
I needed a plan. Preferably one that involved keeping a safe distance from Hudson’s mouth.
Ti to make a run for it.
"Coward," Akira snickered inside my head.
"Strategic retreat," I corrected, already plotting my escape.
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