chapter 8: Hugo

"Hugo." Frowning at him, I failed to understand what was going through his mind. This man was far too complex for my naïve outlook on men. Apart from my father, I had no close experience with men like Hugo and Julien—men with too much power. At a snap of their fingers, the world fell at their feet. They exuded it—even that Callum Kensington man earlier on had shown similar assured confidence. Money. Obscene amounts of it could lead a man into believing they could walk on air, or on any ground for that matter.

"We're leaving," he gritted out before he gave me a slashing look.

Wait. He seemed almost accusing. What was that look for anyway? I was merely speaking to his friend, not having a quick romp in the storage room.

"Leaving? Now? The event hasn't even started."

"We are leaving." He had that expression on him, as if he was speaking to a child, ready to reprimand when the need arose. "Unless, of course, you want to stay for a cozier

tête-à-tête with Julien, then you're more than welcome to stay."

Aghast, I stared at him agog. "What?"

For the first time, he came close to me, breath hot against my ear while I slightly trembled against his body.

"You heard me well," he warned. "So choose."

Trembling to be this close to him, I was confused at my body's reaction towards the man. Whenever he was near, I somehow did that. I had no clue why, either.

"I came here with you. I'm leaving with you."

Without a word, he ushered us out of there, bypassing his friends that seemed too confused when Hugo didn't acknowledge them as they said something about where we were heading.

Once we reached the outside and the valet had handed him his keys, we travelled back the same road we had taken about an hour ago. The only difference was that the air about him was more untouchable compared to the quiet indifference he'd portrayed.

Gazing at his profile, I sadly noted how his rogue sexiness only added to his appeal when angry. He drove the car as if he was racing towards Hell, uncaring that he bypassed one hundred on the speedometer.

I wasn't sure what was bothering him; however, there clearly was something on his mind. Was it the meeting earlier on, or could it be because he found me cozy with Julien? The first choice was more viable since the second meant he would be jealous, which was ridiculous since we hadn't known each other long enough and hadn't been speaking at all when the purpose didn't serve it. Therefore, if Julien was to be believed that they were particularly close, then his anger was most likely angled towards his friend.

"She caused a lot of complications in his life..." Julien's words flittered through my mind, wandering towards the woman in question. I wondered how he had handled his ex- lover.

Approximately twenty minutes later, I was taken aback when he drove us into the marina, parking right at the dock's entrance before my eyes caught the sight of the floating palace, alit with sleek elegance.

"Is this another party?" He'd never said anything apart from the auction we had missed.

"No," he curtly replied as he slid out of his Trojan of a car before opening my door and offering his hand to help me out. "We're having dinner."

"Oh." I was quite dumbfounded since we had left in haste while he brooded in silence, and then, only twenty minutes later, he was on to dinner. Color me confused.

We went aboard the mega yacht and were greeted by a butler before he ushered us towards the dining area that was purposely and elaborately done on deck, near the huge Jacuzzi set at the very end of the bow. Apparently, a hot tub on the opposite side wouldn't suffice.

Apart from the intimidating air of opulence that surrounded us, I was quite enthralled to dine alone with him. He didn't make all these detailed, extravagant efforts, but it was he who'd requested it, so I felt quite honored to be the woman sitting opposite him. I was sure these situations occurred to him on a daily basis, but to me, it meant something. With Damen's limited funds due to the sour turn of the Greek economy and my father's exorbitant lifestyle, though our families were known to be well-off, we actually lived a life on a budget.

"It's beautiful tonight." My eyes took in the stars above as I breathed in the crisp air and the magical aura that surrounded us. The moon hung high, brightly lit as it cast its brilliance on the Mediterranean, basking it with his pulling beauty, painting a picturesque magnificence I had barely appreciated until tonight.

Watching appreciatively as the server carefully poured me a glass of red wine, Hugo didn't address me until his steward was out of earshot. "You mentioned a brother. What about your mother? Is she around?"

This was a start to a grueling interrogation about my life. I supposed it was bound to happen given the circumstances.

Pressing my lips together, I gazed into the darkness of his eyes. "My mother is in Athens. She's originally from Cornwall, but when she met my dad, she moved to Greece to be his wife."

"Must've been quite the culture shock for her."

The server was back with our first course of cream of watercress soup with a dollop of heavy cream and a quarter size dollop of caviar sitting atop it.

I didn't respond to him until the server left and we'd both started to eat leisurely—an alien word I wouldn't have used to describe Hugo, but tonight, it was fitting.

Remembering my mother's gentle, loving face, I somberly pictured her with a pained heart as I rehashed what had happened to my once vibrant, full of life, beautiful mother.

"She said the culture shock came in the beginning. She used to proudly say that her love for my father made her overcome her fears..." How sad to have fallen in love with a toxic man like my father.

"Does she know of his habit?"

"She does, but my father does as he pleases." My mother's opinion never swayed him to think twice before delving into action. My father was a spoilt, only child. The golden son. Oh, but what a joke he had become.

"My mother had a miscarriage, and after that, she hasn't spoken much. She still has the ability to speak, but only chooses to do so when it's needed. Most of the time, she wallows in her agony of losing the baby, and my father does what he does best." Breaking my mother's heart over and over again. Yet there she was, timidly waiting for the man she'd married to come back to her in order to welcome him with open arms.

"What a great parenting example," he huffed with a biting tone, upfront in his disapproval. "Have you spoken to your father since?"

"No." He never made the effort. I didn't expect him to. He nodded, deep in thought. "Très bien."

Quietly placing my spoon down, I glanced towards him, hoping we could clear a misunderstanding that had left me boggled. "About earlier... I'm not sure if I should apologize for what happened or not because I'm quite sure I'm not the cause of your awful mood." I paused, brows furrowing. "I feel compelled to press this subject with you since we're still getting used to each other, and I don't want this issue to cause a rift between us."

He paused, setting his utensil down as he stared at me before he languidly rested his back against the white leather, wingback chair. "You're quite sure you weren't the reason?"

"Yes." Quite so.

Hugo remained in silent consideration as he kept staring at me, as if trying to figure me out. "And may I ask why, ma belle?"

Well, this question was easy. Might as well tell him the truth. I hoped he'd appreciate my honest opinion. "Because you had no grounds to be acting like Tarzan."

The end of his top lip lifted. "I acted like Tarzan?"

Did he have any idea who the character was? I'd take my chances.

"Well, I wasn't sure what was said between you and Julien because you both exchanged in French..." I shrugged before making my point. "You're a man with three women living with you, ready at your disposal, jealousy couldn't be the reason."

"You're very rational for your age," he observed, eyes still penetrating me.

"I have to be." I met his gaze, feeling this tug of war between us. As if there was a magnetic pull telling me to run away, yet I couldn't fathom looking away and breaking contact. His dark eyes sought, gauging me as it effectively lulled me into its trap. Dark, angelic beauty, or dark, devilish appeal? I hadn't decided which suited him yet.

However, one couldn't deny it any longer. That this— whatever this was—it affected me greatly. Furthermore, as exhilarating as it was to get his undivided attention, my mother was a prime example of being charmed by a snake. I'd be damned if I'd walk in her shoes, too. Once was enough in our family.