I worried that the answer was no. Especially when, after setting the suitcase in our bedroom, Hudson headed straight to the library to get some work done. I was asleep when he went to bed, and he didn’t wake me. Just like that, our vacation was over and we were back to life.
The next morning, I woke before Hudson left for the day. I sat up against the headboard, watching him as he laced his belt through his slacks. “I’m glad I caught you.”
He lifted a brow. “You caught me? I was under the impression that I’d caught you.”
I tossed a pillow at him. “I mean right now. I’m glad I caught you before you left.”
He put his jacket on and turned to give me his full attention. “Why? Do you need to talk to me?”
“I don’t need to. My days are just better when they start off seeing you.”
His lips slid into a smile. He came to the bed, placing one knee into the mattress and pulling me into him. “I feel the same way. Completely.”
I wrapped my arms around his neck and played with the hair at the back of his neck. “Let’s try to make sure we start it that way more often, okay? And when we go to bed, the same thing.”
He leaned his forehead into mine. “I didn’t want to wake you, precious.”
“We never want to wake each other. Let’s get over that. I’d rather lose sleep than lose what I have with you. And sometimes I feel like with our work and day-to-day lives, we slip away from each other. This weekend reminded me how good it feels to be the center of your world.”
His expression grew warm. “You’re always the center of my world.”
I melted. Would he always be able to make me feel this good? I had a feeling the answer was yes. As long as he took the time to tell me. As long as I took the time to listen. “Well, then wake me up and tell me that before you go from now on.”
“Done.” He captured my mouth, kissing me sweetly. “You’re the center of my world, precious. Every minute of every day. Even when I’m not with you.” He brushed his lips against mine. “You make it so easy to fall so hard.”
He remembered the words of the song I sang him! My heart flipped in my chest and my eyes grew misty. I clutched onto him. “God, I love you.”
He lingered another moment, his gaze fixed on mine.
A rush of…something…swept through my body. It was impossible to pinpoint the exact emotion, and I suspected it was a combination of a whole lot of stuff—melancholy and lust and love and adoration.
But, even with all the good stuff, under all that, there was a steady pulse of dread.
He narrowed his eyes, studying me. “What is it, precious?”
“I don’t know.” How could I explain this unwarranted feeling that the beautiful thing we had was right on the edge of shattering? I brushed my hand across his cheek. “Sometimes, when you go, I’m left feeling off kilter.”
“Trust me, precious, the feeling is mutual.”
I thought about his response long after he’d left, wondering what he’d meant. Maybe he hadn’t realized that my statement wasn’t exactly a compliment.
Or maybe I had him just as off balance as he had me.
Mira tugged at the waistband of the blue floral A-line I was wearing. I couldn’t see myself in the mirror from where I was standing in the dressing room, but from what I could see, it looked pretty damn good.
“Turn,” she demanded.
I spun half-heartedly. I was tired of spinning, frankly. It was nearly three and after trying on dozens of outfits, we still hadn’t found the perfect one for her reopening. Scratch that. Mira hadn’t found the perfect outfit. I’d found several.
“Hmm.” She studied me with narrow eyes. “I love this one, but it’s not as good on you as I thought it would be.”
I swallowed back my sigh. “Maybe I’m not a very good model.” I suddenly had a ton of appreciation for those who modeled for a living. I loved clothes. I loved trying new clothes on. I did not, it turned out, love being poked and prodded and scrutinized by a feisty fashion expert.
Mira shook her head. “That’s the thing. You’re too gorgeous and this dress dulls you.”
Dulls me? That was a new one.
“There’s too much material,” she went on. “It’s like I’m trying to hide beauty.”
“Whatever.”
“There’s got to be something else.” She rifled through the dresses on the rack that I had yet to try on, which was not many. “All of these have the same problem. We need a perfect balance between the dress and you. We need one that shows more skin.”
“Don’t make it too skimpy or Hudson will kill you. Or me. Or both of us.” Thoughts of Hudson were never far away when I was in Mira’s shop. We’d had amazing sex right in that very dressing room— my hands pressed against the mirror, his cock thrusting in from behind—
“Hudson can bite my ass.”
Leave it to Mira to bring me back to reality. Sharply. Except now I was thinking about Hudson biting my ass…
Mira pulled a dress from the rack, looking it over. “Did you figure out if Hudson has any plans for Celia?”
“Unfortunately, I think he doesn’t.” That was what my heart was truly telling me. It was probably also why he wanted me out of town. “And did you see Celia was there at the restaurant last week?”
Mira whipped toward me. “Oh my god! She was? I didn’t see her. With Mom and everything, I guess I was distracted. Did she say anything to you?”
“Nope.” She’d skirted past the Sophia incident, so I took that as a sign she didn’t really want to talk about it.
“Thank goodness for that.” She turned to put the dress back in its place and began shuffling through the outfits we’d already been through. “I can’t believe she has time to dedicate to that. I mean, she doesn’t need the money, but she has a job. Does she just ignore her clients?”
I’d actually lost jobs in the past due to my own obsessions. But for once, I didn’t want to compare. I decided to go for a lighter approach. “I know, right? Maybe she pays an assistant to do all her work.”
Mira laughed. “Or she canceled all her projects this month.”
“And put up a sign in her office that says: Closed for Stalking.” We were both laughing now. The release felt good. It broke the ever-present tension sort of in the same way sex did. If I couldn’t spend all my days in bed, I definitely should spend more of it laughing.
“Well, at least we can find the humor.” Mira moved behind me, apparently giving up on the clothes rack. “But there’s no humor in this horrid dress. Let’s get you out of this lousy thing.” She loosened the ties that threaded across my back, then started removing the pins she’d put in to tighten the dress at my waist.
There was a tap at the dressing room door. Stacy entered without waiting for an invitation. “Here’s some for that one.” She handed a pair of cherry red heels toward her boss.
I hadn’t seen much of Stacy that afternoon. She’d stayed relatively busy with another customer, but as soon as she was finished, she had popped her head in. Mira had sent her on errand after errand, asking for a different bra, another box of pins, and so on.
But even just seeing her sporadically, it was enough to send my mind back to the video she’d offered to show me. I’d told Hudson I didn’t need to see it—and I didn’t—but that didn’t stop me from being slightly curious. Okay, more than slightly.
Mira waved the shoes away. “We’re scrapping this one. It’s not quite right.” Her eyes lit up. “You know what? We should try the Furstenberg piece. The new one. What do you think, Stacy?”
Stacy tilted her head and examined me, perhaps trying to picture me in the dress they were talking about. “It would look great with her skin tone. And the fit is meant to accentuate the bust line, which works with her body type. Is it still in the backroom?”
“Yes.”
Stacy turned to leave.
“No, wait.” Mira stopped her. “I pulled it for Misty to try on and then she chose something different.
” Her brow pinched. “Crap. I don’t know where it is now.”
“I can look around,” Stacy offered.
“Let me go. I don’t expect you to figure out where my hormone-influenced brain left it. Will you help her out of this one?” Mira handed the pin box to Stacy.
Maybe it was my imagination, but Stacy’s expression didn’t seem too pleased. “Certainly.” And her voice was tight.
Mira didn’t seem to notice. “Thanks. Be back shortly!” Under her breath, she added, “Hopefully.”
Stacy kept her head down while she moved behind me, as though she were deliberately avoiding looking me in the eye. Waves of hostility rolled off her body. She’d been cold in the past, but this was different. More angry. Was she mad that I’d refused to see her video? How petty was that?
I debated whether I wanted to break the tension or not. Finally, I decided to try. “Are you excited for the renovation celebration?”
“Sure.” Again, her response was curt.
And not a lot to work off of. “I imagine it will bring new business. Will you be hiring more help?”
“Probably.”
Yeah, definitely some rage going on. I felt the waistband loosening as she removed the last pins.
“Lift.”
I raised my arms for Stacy to pull the dress over my head. She was rough as she did, and when my hair got caught, she muttered an unconvincing apology. Then she turned to hang up the outfit on the rack.
I wrapped my arms around myself, feeling odd in my panties and strapless bra in front of a woman I barely knew. A woman who apparently was not very happy with me.
I considered letting it go.
But letting things go had never been one of my strong points.
Stacy remained turned away as she worked, so I had to address her back. “Are you mad at me?” She didn’t say anything so I clarified. “Mad that I didn’t want to see your video?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she huffed. Then, after a beat, “That’s not why I’m mad.”
“But you are mad?” I knew it! My paranoia wasn’t always off-base. “Why?”
“Seriously?” She flew back around to face me. “I offered that video as a gesture of kindness. One woman to another—we’re supposed to look out for each other. At least we are in my book.”
I was completely lost. “I have no idea—”
She cut me off. “I told you Hudson didn’t know that I had it. And then you went ahead and told him about it anyway. That was just…just low.”
My head swam. “Wait, wait. I’m confused.”
“What exactly is confusing about it? I went out of my way to help you and you pretty much betrayed my confidence.” She leaned against the dressing room wall, throwing her gaze up. “I don’t know what I expected. He’s Hudson Pierce, after all. He gets everybody’s panties in a wad with just a glance.” Her head shot back toward me. “Hey, he didn’t trick you into telling him about it, did he?”
“No. No, he didn’t trick me.” Things were starting to fall in place, but not enough of them. I took a step toward her. “Look, I’m sorry that—”
“Don’t bother.” She practically spit. God, she was mad.
“Please!” I put my hand up either to prevent her from stopping me or to shield me from any further assault. “Please let me finish.”
I don’t know why I waited for her permission, but she gave it to me. “Fine.”
“I’m sorry I told Hudson, and that it betrayed your confidence.” Honestly, it hadn’t occurred to me that she wouldn’t want me to tell him. Now that I thought about it, perhaps it hadn’t been in good taste. “I wasn’t trying to…hurt you…or piss you off in any way. I was just trying to be honest with my boyfriend. And I didn’t tell him what it was, obviously, because I didn’t know. I asked if he knew what you might have and he said he had no idea. End of discussion.”
She started to open her mouth to say something, but I spoke before she could. “Wait, one more thing—” The most important thing. “How do you know that I told him?”
She tapped her finger against her thigh as though considering whether or not she wanted to tell me. “He’s emailed,” she said after a beat. “And called me, asking about it.”
“Emailed…?” Hudson had emailed Stacy about the video?
“And called. Every day last week, in fact.”
The color drained from my face, and I had to sit down on the dressing room bench. “But why would he do that? What did he say?”
“His email said he learned that I had a video with him in it, and he wanted to talk to me about it. He mentioned a bunch of legal things about privacy and libel and all that crap. Then he asked if I’d send it to him. His phone messages said the same.”
“What did you say?”
“I didn’t actually talk to him. He kept calling, though, so I finally sent it Thursday. There was really no point keeping it from him. He knows I saw what’s on the video, even if he didn’t know about the video itself.”
If she sent it on Thursday, then Hudson had most likely already seen it himself. Was that what he’d been referring to the other morning? His secrets?
“Then he emailed me today and asked me if we could talk about what he’d need to do in order to ensure the video was gone forever.” Her voice was thick with disgust. “Like I could be bribed.”
“I don’t understand.” My eyes rested on my lap, my words for myself, not Stacy. “He said there was nothing you could possibly have that would interest me. He wasn’t concerned about it. Why would he…?”
“Because he’s lying to you, Alayna!”
Stacy’s emphatic statement drew my focus back to her.
“That’s exactly my point about him. You can’t trust him or anything he says. He’ll string you along, make you think he’s interested, make you think he’s available. But he’s not. I don’t know what the hell game he’s playing, but he’s good at it.”
A game. Was that what the whole thing was about? Had Stacy been one of his victims? It would explain why he’d been so protective about the material.
I felt sick.
Though I knew about the things he’d done to people, it didn’t mean I was comfortable with it. Didn’t mean I wanted to have to meet face-to-face with the people he’d hurt.
And what if that wasn’t what this was about at all? If he’d scammed Stacy, I could deal with that. It wasn’t new information.
If it was something different…
I made a choice. One that I didn’t know if I’d necessarily be proud of later, but the only one that would protect my sanity. “What’s on the video, Stacy?”
“Uh-uh.” She turned back to the dressing rack, busying herself with straightening the clothing. “I’m not playing this game. You didn’t want to see it.”
I still wasn’t sure that I wanted to see it. But now I had to. “I was wrong. I shouldn’t have…I don’t know…dismissed it so easily. You have to understand—I was trying to trust him because…” Why was I trying to explain the details of Hudson’s and my relationship? It didn’t matter why I hadn’t wanted to see it. What mattered was that I’d changed my mind.
I stood and stepped toward her. “Look, you wanted me to see it to warn me about him. Don’t you think I need the warning even more now? Woman to woman. Please.” I was desperate—grasping at whatever would speak to her. It was manipulative, perhaps, but I’d been learning from the best.
Stacy’s face softened. “I’m off at four. Give me your email and I’ll send it to you as soon as I get home.”
“Thank you. Thank you.” I dove for my purse on the floor where I kept my business cards.
“But I’m done. I’m destroying the damn thing like he asked and then no more. Whatever you decide about the man, you’re on your own.”
“Of course.” I found the item I was looking for and handed it to Stacy. “Here’s my card. The email is my home and work.”
She took the card from me and tucked it in her pocket.
“Thank
you, Stacy. And, again, I’m sorry. If I can make it up to you…”
“Found it!”
Mira’s return interrupted me. I was grateful, actually. The sooner she had a dress chosen for me and her event, the sooner I’d be on my way home. And Stacy would be off soon. Maybe her video would even be in my inbox by the time I booted up my laptop at the penthouse.
As I put the latest outfit on and posed and smiled and succumbed to Mira’s primping and ecstatic cries of “This is the one,” I felt more comfortable with myself than I had in a while. Lauren was right—some things would always be in my nature. Needing to know everything didn’t say anything about my levels of trust or distrust in Hudson. It was all about me and my compulsions. The things I could and couldn’t live with.
And when it came to secrets, I would always have to uncover them eventually.
Chapter Twelve
The drive back to the penthouse was the longest I’d ever been on.
I’d left Mirabelle’s at the same time Stacy had. Once again, she’d said she’d email me the file and once again I thanked her. Then she headed toward the subway and I slipped into the back of the Maybach. My hands were sweaty as I fastened my seat belt, but my heart was also beating with anticipation.
It didn’t escape me that I was reacting like an addict getting her first fix in months. And wasn’t that exactly what I was doing? The romantic obsessive girl about to indulge in compulsive snooping?
It was only Jordan and me in the car—Reynold had the afternoon off—and I’d intended to go back to the club for a while after Mira’s. But I knew I’d be too consumed with the video to work. And watching it in a private location seemed like the best move.
Four p.m. on Monday in NYC, though, is rush hour. Getting from Greenwich Village to Uptown was a nightmare. I busied myself with trying to figure out how to set my email up on my phone—why hadn’t I thought that was a good idea before now? But I couldn’t focus enough on the steps to make it happen.
Instead, my mind buzzed with questions. So many questions beyond what was on the video. Like, how had Stacy happened to make a video in the first place? If it had been made with her phone, wouldn’t she have been able to send it by phone? Was she carrying around a video camera and then just happened to tape this…this…whatever it was? Why did she think this particular moment was even worthy of preserving?
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