Madly Yours (Nora Reed) novel Chapter 261

The night breeze drifted through the sheer curtains, casting flickering, ghostly shadows across the floor.

Hudson leaned against the balcony railing, one long leg casually bent, ankles crossed. A freshly lit cigarette hung between his fingers, though he barely dragged on it. The glowing cherry flared and faded, wisps of smoke curling upward before the wind tore them away, obscuring his sharp jawline.

He glanced over his shoulder toward the bedroom.

Nora was curled up under the duvet, only the slightly pink shell of her ear visible. Her breathing was soft and rhythmic, and she was fast asleep.

He watched her for a long moment before pulling his gaze back, lifting the cigarette to his lips for a deep drag. The sharp bite of nicotine, mixed with the cool night air, stung his eyes.

He looked down, crushing the dying ember against the railing. A spark bit into his fingertip, but he didn't even flinch.

A sudden, heavy wave of regret washed over him.

He regretted ever giving in to his dark obsessions, setting up such a massive, elaborate trap just to lock her by his side.

She deserved the most beautiful, purest love. If a normal man had married her, how fiercely would he cherish her?

To see her smile, a man would gladly build her a palace of gold or pluck the stars from the sky...

Whatever he could possibly give her, he still felt it wasn't enough.

Never nearly enough.

And yet, he didn't even have the right to grow old beside her...

Hudson looked up at the moon hanging in the sky.

It was blindingly bright, leaving his sins nowhere to hide.

He would just have to wait.

Wait until he cleaned up the chaotic mess of his world. Wait until she... didn't love him quite as much anymore.

Then, he would let her go.

His phone suddenly vibrated against the table. He glanced at the caller ID and swiped to answer. "What is it?"

Arthur's deep voice came through the speaker. "Boss, that man you told me to investigate—the one who nearly hit Nora—he's arrived in San Francisco."

Hudson's brow furrowed slightly.

The last time Arthur had tracked the guy down using traffic cameras, the man had slipped out of San Francisco overnight before they could get to him.

He never expected the idiot would actually dare to return.

Hudson bent down, carefully pulling the duvet back over her. He stood by the edge of the bed for a few seconds, leaning down to press a soft kiss against her forehead, before quietly slipping out of the bedroom.

...

The night breeze carried San Francisco's signature humid heat, whipping through the cracked window of the taxi and tangling his hair.

Arnold Vance slouched in the backseat, rolling the window all the way down. He propped his elbow against the frame, squinting at the blur of city streets whipping past.

Neon signs assaulted his vision—red, green, blue, purple—so bright they made his head spin.

This was his first time in San Francisco.

After fifteen years rotting in a cell, the outside world was nothing like he remembered.

Northampton had changed.

And San Francisco was no different...

Except here, the skyscrapers were taller, the alleys narrower, the traffic denser, and the crowds vastly more chaotic.

The air carried a strange, indescribable scent. It wasn't the dry, dusty smell of Northampton; it was salty ocean brine mixed with greasy exhaust. It made him feel like money flowed through the city's veins instead of blood.