Tainted Deception Read online

  “Good evening, Felicity. You look lovely as always,” I lie through my teeth trying to butter up the witch of a woman with the camera. She could jeopardize my whole evening or worse, publicize a rumor in her magazine.

  “Well, yes, actually I am flying solo tonight. I thought I’d keep my options open. From the array of gorgeous dresses and beautiful women, I am sure I will have plenty to keep me entertained,” I reply smiling wide. I couldn’t help but stir the pot.

  Felicity smiles half-heartedly. “Well, make sure to treat the lucky lady with respect and enjoy your evening, Mr. Hudson,” she adds sounding a little hostile, but obviously not wanting to inform her readers of US Weekly just how bitter and jealous she really is.

  I eagerly hurry away and let out the breath I had been holding. I fucking hate women like her. I didn’t want anything more, so I ended it. Isn’t that the gentlemanly thing to do? Instead of leading her on just to hook up. Three months of her was enough.

  I regain my composure and focus on the evening ahead as I enter the opulent ballroom. The crystal chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling reflects against the canopy of satin sashes hanging around the ballroom. The table pieces are glass vases filled with candles—simple yet perfect.

  Claire, my personal assistant, immediately greets me. “Good evening, Mr. Hudson. I see you didn’t skimp on your tux. You look handsome,” she tells me smiling. She knows how much I paid for the tuxedo since she picked it up for me.

  “You look beautiful, Claire. Nice to see you all dressed up for the night,” I reply honestly.

  “Thank you. Now, in regards to the business for tonight, you should know Peter Lawson would like ten minutes of your time, Mrs. O’Leary has questions about the latest deal, and your speech will be after dinner is served. Oh, and you will be drawing the three winners of the raffle.” I would struggle to keep all of the gritty details straight on my own. I would be a mess without her.

  “You are my lifeline, Claire. You know I would be lost without you right?” I declare thankful to my personal assistant. Claire is dark-haired, has nice olive skin, and is in her late thirties. She’s an attractive woman who is also very happily married with two children. She’s a retired nurse turned secretary. Of course, a young blond assistant would never work out for me for a number of reasons.

  “Pretty sure we are a good match there, Mr. Hudson. I will be here if you need me and will check in with you before your speech,” Claire adds.

  “I need something to take the edge off and I need to find Peter. Enjoy the party, Claire, and let your hair down, sweetheart,” I tell her hoping she will unwind and enjoy herself tonight.

  The autopilot Chase Hudson kicks in, part of my work image is attending functions like this one and supporting countless charities and fundraisers, so I know the routine like the back of my hand.

  I’d much rather be on my Harley or playing my guitar with the band.

  Focus, Chase, this is about helping those less fortunate. Helping the homeless children, the abused animals, and the sick and injured. I truly find solace in helping others. Father doesn’t know even half of what I donate.

  I know that life isn’t merely about accomplishments but about leaving a legacy. My legacy will be how I made others feel, and how I help others accomplish their dreams.

  My heart is at times ice cold, as if it’s been captive in Antarctica, which is a genetic trait I inherited from my old man. I despise that characteristic at times, much like I despise him.

  But unlike him, I also have a trait that I am sure I inherited from my late and beautiful mother. I have a heightened sense of empathy for those with less, and if I can give just a little, I fucking will.

  ~~~~

  So far, it’s just another boring charity dinner. Same people and same dull conversations, I write them a check, sign a few contracts, and my job is done. Making an appearance is the most important part. Hudson Industries is reputable and distinguished, and I make it look good, much to Father’s dismay.

  I’m a leader, and I was born this way. I am the guy others look to for motivation and inspiration, often with a hint of jealousy. I’m the man women want. No matter where I go and without the intention of being the center of attention, I am drawn to it and it always finds me.

  But there is something in the air tonight, and I get the feeling it may not just be another boring dinner.

  I have never met her before, and yet I somehow sense her aura and presence before I actually see her. She oozes conviction and poise.

  When my curious eyes find the angel who has captured my attention, from her ambience alone, I am captivated.

  Who in the world is that gorgeous redhead?

  Her ivory skin is like nothing I have seen before, unscarred, unblemished. I can imagine the velvet-soft texture. Her lips are perfectly shaped, with bright ruby lipstick—it is quite the contrast to her white alabaster complexion. The bold lipstick makes me wonder about her personality. She’s obviously brazen and not afraid to make a statement with such a brilliant and bright choice of color.

  Much like her hair, it is a deep red, stunning and bold.

  Wow. As she bites her lip, I see her drift off into another world. She does not want to be here, that is for sure. But neither do I right now.

  ~~~~

  I need to meet the stunning redhead with the Snow White complexion. I collect two champagne flutes from the closest waiter and head over to her. Mr. Maisen is seated at her table, and I realize he must be her father. We have a strong working relationship—he is a fellow businessman and colleague. I can break the ice by using him as the reason to get to know her better.

  “Mr. Maisen, always a pleasure.” I nod as I reach him. His wife is seated next to him. I can see that she is only half the vision of her daughter, the satin princess in the green dress.

  “I brought your lovely daughters some champagne,” I comment trying to smooth over all parties while knowing all too well that one is his wife.

  Mrs. Maisen takes one of the glasses. “Well, aren’t you charming,” she says to me smiling like a schoolgirl, obviously pleased by my comment. Mr. Maisen chuckles at the situation at hand.

  “Darling, this is Chase Hudson from Hudson Industries. I am sure you are aware of his company,” he tells his wife as I reach for her hand to shake and then kiss.

  “It is a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Maisen. I have heard wonderful things,” I reply with a white lie, always a little icing on top secures the bet.

  “Oh, the pleasure is all mine, Mr. Hudson. You are quite the success. I’ve seen you in numerous magazines,” she tells me flirtatiously.

  “Ivy, come and meet a business colleague of mine,” he calls to his crimson beauty, to which she rolls her eyes at his request. I can’t help but smirk at her first response. She rises from the table and makes her way over smiling, obviously faking it to make Daddy happy.

  “This is Chase Hudson from Hudson Industries. Chase this is my daughter, Ivy,” Mr. Maisen tells me. My gaze is already fixated on her. Ivy, her name is absolutely perfect for her.

  “An absolute pleasure to meet such a beautiful woman,” I say meaning every single word. I reach for her hand and kiss it as I did her mother. The velvet texture of her hand is much softer to touch even as a zap of electricity sparks between us. I feel frozen from the stare of her eyes into mine.

  “Mr. Hudson, lovely to meet you,” she replies and gives me another fake smile. Wow, this chick really despises the fact that she is here. I can’t help but wonder why her parents insisted she come; she must be at least twenty-three and a legal adult.

  “I thought you might like a glass of champagne. These events can be quite dull,” I say to her and wink. She looks up at me after retrieving her drink, which she downs in a swift gulp, much to her mother’s disgust.

  “You’re right, these events are very dull,” Ivy replies and appears to look for a waiter to get a refill.

  “I must admit this one is no longer dull from where I am standing,” I say
low enough her parents won’t hear. I don’t want to be known as the businessman who goes after the daughters of his clients.

  “I bet you say that to all the ladies, Mr. Hudson,” Ivy replies as she raises her eyebrows and tilts her head in an attitude that shows she isn’t falling for my charm.

  “Only the interesting ones, and you my dear, have my attention,” I respond and look at her face for her reaction. She just smiles.

  “Well, I’m sorry, Mr. Hudson, but you aren’t exactly my type,” she declares brazenly to me. This woman is unimpressed and has balls of steel.

  I’ve never been rejected by a woman before. Ever. I am a little stunned by what I hear. I always thought I was everyone’s type. Well, this is a first.

  “I’m not your type?” I repeat back to her still shocked by her revelation. “So, tell me, Ivy, what exactly is your type?” I can’t help but ask. I really should be mingling with the rest of the guests, but I just can’t help myself.

  “Well, for a start he wouldn’t be caught dead in a tux. He’d be more comfortable in a leather jacket,” she responds sarcastically assuming her type is the complete polar opposite of me.

  “Hmm and what else would your type be like?” I continue the conversation, eager to know more about this intriguing woman who has mesmerised me with her every word.

  “He would have tattoos everywhere, probably be in a band, have long hair and piercings,” she confesses to me in detail. Good lord, this woman might be the death of me yet.

  “Sounds like I’m out of luck then,” I remark back to her, trying so hard not to smirk and to keep my serious expression. “Please allow me to have another drink with you later, Ivy. Strictly as a business associate of your father's, of course,” I say to her as I nod and leave to mingle with the other dinner guests.

  ~~~~

  We are seated for dinner; of course, I am seated with my father and the other board members. But I’m grateful for the unimpeded view of her, sitting only a few tables away. She’s perfection, attitude and all.

  “And now, ladies and gentlemen, let us welcome Chase Hudson to the stage for his speech and to draw the lucky winners of our raffle,” the host announces as I stand and head to the stage.

  “Thank you and good evening, ladies and gentlemen. I feel honoured as always to be involved in such a prestigious event. Charities are very close to my heart. I am always willing to donate and help those in need,” I announce into the microphone.

  I proceed to talk about how Hudson Industries started out, my role in the company, the charities we support—the usual speech that I use for most events—adding in a few jokes to keep the crowd awake. I conclude my speech by thanking the board members, those who donated to the raffle and everyone who purchased their tickets for tonight.

  “Now for the fun part. I hope you have all purchased your raffle tickets because these prizes are fantastic,” I announce into the microphone. “So now let’s see who the winners are. The third prize is accommodations and dinner for two right here at the Waldorf Astoria. Wow, what a great prize.”

  I reach into the large barrel of tickets and dig to the bottom, I pull out the winner, but as I read the ticket, I can’t believe my luck. The ticket says ‘Veronica Maisen,’ but it’s close enough, right?

  “The third prize winner is Miss Ivy Maisen. Please come and collect your winning voucher for what will be an amazing night for you and someone special,” I say enthusiastically and smile largely in her direction.

  I see her eyes widen as she bites her lip, obviously shocked that her name was called. I’m pretty sure she didn’t buy a ticket. She will probably think her parents did for her. She is smiling, for real this time. And why not? I mean, who doesn’t like to win?

  Ivy makes her way to the stage with confidence, her hot little body looking sensual in her emerald dress. When she approaches, I can see it matches her eyes to perfection. It should be her trademark color.

  “Congratulations, Miss Maisen, and might I say you are looking absolutely stunning in that dress,” I can’t help but add into the microphone. She shakes her head and looks a little flushed but remains smiling.

  “Thank you, Mr. Hudson,” she replies as I hand her the voucher and lean in to kiss her cheek in congratulations.

  Fuck me. Her scent is like nothing I’ve come across. Like lemons—tangy and sweet all at once. I am overwhelmingly tempted to have a taste and to rip her out of that pretty dress, but of course, I refrain.

  I feel goosebumps on her arm; she is obviously just as affected as me. As she pulls back, she smiles and our eyes connect again if only for a few seconds. Then she turns and walks back to her table, leaving me hot and bothered.

  Good thing I am the master of poise and deception because I need to at least appear unaffected and get on with the show.

  “Now for the second prize, we have this stunning artwork by the award-winning Ally McCoy. Now I must admit that I have a similar piece by this amazing artist in my home. All of her pieces are one-of-a-kind designs. And the lucky winner is Denise Wilcox.”

  I can’t help but gaze back at the red headed vixen. I see her staring in awe at the Ally McCoy painting. She is obviously a fan, and it really is hard not to be, her artwork is faultless.

  I congratulate Denise and she collects her picture.

  “Now for the sensational first prize, we have a round trip, all expenses paid, for a family of four to Disney World. What a fantastic prize! Someone is going to have ecstatic children when they take this prize home,” I say in my best game show host voice.

  “The winner of the grand prize is Mr. Samuel Highwater from the Highwater foundation, and what a deserving winner he is. From what I can recall, you have two children, a boy and a girl, right? You will be a popular man tomorrow,” I say as Samuel makes his way to the stage smiling like a Cheshire cat. My words ring true, he is a kind-hearted man and I couldn’t have chosen a better winner if I had handpicked him myself.

  “Thank you, I am so happy. And yes, my son and daughter will be unbelievably happy. We haven’t had a family vacation in four years. I am over the moon,” he cheers loudly into the microphone.

  “Well, that concludes our raffle for the evening. Once again, thank you to those who donated our prizes and thank you to everyone who bought a ticket. Please enjoy dessert and drinks, have a dance, and let your hair down.” I wrap up my duties as I head back to the table.

  Father is smiling largely. Fuck, I’d forgotten the man could smile. Had he gotten his teeth whitened lately? I don’t remember them ever being so white, or is it just that he never smiles around me?

  “Well done, son. That was a great speech. Like I would expect any less from a Hudson,” he tells me shaking my hand, as do the other board members and Hudson employees. God, I wish I could call bullshit on his fakeness.

  Oh, one day I will, one day…

  Guests are unwinding, some are dancing, others are at the bar, and it’s becoming more of a party. I glimpse over at Ivy’s table; she is no longer sitting there, and I can’t see her around the room, so I decide to look for her.

  Remembering our conversation about her type, I smirk. So she likes bad boys with tattoos, danger, and living on the wild side? A woman into bad boys is hot.

  I discover the outdoor terrace and find Ivy getting some fresh air. The soft breeze blows her curled and styled hair, away from her face. I watch her from a distance as she fidgets with her shawl and I catch a glimpse of a magnificent dragon inked on her back. I smirk as my dick hardens. Tattoos on a woman are fucking hot.

  “Beautiful night. Check out those stars,” I say to her as I sit next to her. Not too close though. I don’t want to scare her off.

  “Yes, it is a stunning night. I could stare at the stars for hours,” she reveals as she slightly smiles at me for taking an uninvited seat.

  “Did I happen see ink on your back, Miss Maisen?” I inquire wondering what her story is—most tattoos have meanings behind them.

  Looking like she was a busted
schoolgirl, she replies, “You may have seen some ink. Do you have any tattoos?” she asks me as if she already knows the answer.

  I just smirk, the answer to that question will change her perception of me, and I’m trying to remain incognito for the time being.

  “I’ll take that is a no then,” she replies answering her own question.

  Lowering her shawl, I notice two tattoos; the infinity symbol on her neck is quite small and hidden out of sight by her hair. There is also a flower on her shoulder blade.

  Her translucent skin draws me to her, pale and untouched besides the tattoos; it looks so soft. The creaminess of her skin has me captivated. Oh, what I wouldn’t give to taint that skin to just a slight shade of red.

  “Do your parents know about these?” I ask her intrigued. I’m sure it’s a big fat no, hence why they are hidden out of sight.

  “What do you think?” she jokes.

  I love the relaxed side to her. If her guard could stay down a little longer, then I could manage a few sentences without being cut off or having her roll her eyes at me.

  “I don’t think it would go down too well with the folks,” I reply.

  “If you knew my mother, then you would know that nothing pleases her. Keeping her on a need to know basis works for everyone.”

  “A white lie is sometimes a necessity,” I agree with her, being the king of charades and hidden identities.

  Looking a little unsure of how to respond, she bites her lip again. So far I’ve seen her do it when she is nervous and now deep in thought. Both times it has been hot as hell.

  “So what do they think of your type then?” I push a little, fishing for more information.

  “They only met one guy I’ve dated and he was an exception to that rule. My taste changed,” she reveals to me.

  “So you wouldn’t bring home a rocker or someone just to piss off Mommy and Daddy then?” I feel like I’m overstepping, but heaven help me, I just can’t stop.

  I wonder what she would do if she knew that I own half the bars she probably frequents, and I’m sure she’s heard Hardcore play at least once. Would her perception of me change if I showed her just how covered in tattoos I am? Or my nipple piercings?