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pillows, Allie gasped in a deep breath that seemed to be biting down on a scream.
    Hudson shot up with her. “What’s the matter?” He slipped an arm around her shoulders and he could feel the cold sweat that had dampened every inch of her skin. The penthouse heater was blowing on full blast—not to mention she was sleeping next to him, a living furnace as Allie frequently pointed out—yet she was ice-cold and shivering.
    â€œAre you okay?” He gently swept her blond hair away from her face.
    â€œI’m fine.” Allie wiped at her eyes before meeting his concerned gaze. Her words were meant to reassure, but what he was seeing didn’t jive with what she was selling.
    Hudson lifted a brow and scrutinized every nuance of her face.
    â€œReally, I am,” she said again. But this time she didn’t look at him, focusing her attention instead on the bedding. She smoothed out the blankets and rolled them back in a thick fold. Yeah, he wasn’t buying this bullshit. His beautiful, perfect, and downright brilliant woman didn’t sound right. In fact, the tone in her voice was all wrong.
    â€œTalk to me, Allie.”
    Allie closed her eyes and sagged as she blew out a breath. He’d been through the sleep-time PTSDs and knew from experience that she was trying to shake off the remnants of whatever images had been playing on repeat in her head. And he’d bet a million to one that it wasn’t some far-flung nightmare conjured from fantasy. Not when reality had been so much worse than any horror movie. So many times after pulling himself out of the night terrors, he’d wished it had all just been a bad dream and not segments of his reality burping its way through his psyche. Because that’s the shit that stayed with you. Like a bad stain on your favorite shirt.
    â€œIt’s just sometimes . . .”
    Hudson dipped his head to catch her eye. “Sometimes?”
    â€œReally, it’s nothing. Just a dream.” Allie gave him a half-assed smile. “Let’s go back to sleep.”
    She tried to pull away but Hudson wasn’t having it. “Alessandra, you’re evading. And if I recall, that crap didn’t fly when I attempted to pull the same routine with you.”
    Allie refocused on him, then hesitated. Sadness from one hell of the nightmare was in her eyes. He pulled her against his chest and leaned back against the pillows. Holding her tight, he felt her finally relax into him.
    â€œTake your time, baby. What was it about?”
    She swallowed hard as if the blackness was still closing in on her and retelling the horror of it all was grabbing at her throat.
    â€œMostly images from that night.” Allie paused and drew a deep breath through her nose. “I close my eyes and I see it all over again.” She didn’t specify which night and she didn’t have to. Hudson knew she was referring to the evening she’d arrived at her childhood home to find her parents lying in pools of their own blood. “You know, when I was little I used to sneak down that hall to my dad’s office. He’d be in there most nights and nearly every weekend, but when I would peek my head around the door he’d smile and wave me in.” She was looking at him but her gaze was distant. “I’d sit in one of those big leather chairs, swinging my feet back and forth while he talked on the phone, and when he was done he’d ask me about school or my dolls or dance class.” The corner of her mouth turned up ever so slightly. “And he’d always have a butterscotch candy for me when I left.”
    Allie looked down at her hands. Her fingers were clutching a section of the bed sheet. “I used to hate the way my mom obsessed over every detail of that gaudy dining room. But she loved it. Her own mini Versailles, she used to say. Then Julian’s shooter riddled those mirrors with bullet holes. Now whenever I