“Nothing. Water, I suppose.” I crossed one leg over the other.
“Really?” He sounded irritated, which meant the situation was getting to him too. “You were the one who suggested we meet at a bar, and you’re not even having a drink?”
I hadn’t chosen it, the app had.
But I was irritated with his irritation. And with being set up. And with all the distrust around me, whether I’d earned it or not. “I'm nursing. I can’t drink, unless I'm going to dump it all after, and I'm not.” I nudged his drink closer to him. “But we all know you’re in a much more agreeable mood when you've had one of these. Hence, the bar.”
Yeah, again it was petty, suggesting he might have an alcohol problem. I couldn’t help myself. He’d ganged up on me. Ironically, I realized I was probably reacting exactly the same way I’d told Edward that Hudson would react if we’d ganged up on him.
“I changed my mind,” Hudson said abruptly. “We don’t need to meet with you. This isn’t going to get us anywhere. Alayna, grab your purse. We are leaving.” He pulled out his wallet and began flipping through the bills inside.
“Hudson,” his wife said, placing her hand on his arm. “We should stay.”
He hesitated then threw some money on the table, but when he pocketed his wallet, he didn’t stand to leave.
I had to concentrate to keep my jaw from dropping. Whatever they needed to discuss with me had to be important. Important to them, anyway. Which meant it could be useful to me.
For the first time since I walked in, I felt a flicker of hope.
“Thank you,” I said. “I would hate to have wasted this trip.” Conscious that the clock was ticking, I pressed the conversation. “Now, since Edward is not involved in this matter and Alayna is, I am assuming that we are not here to speak about the three-point alliance?”
“That is—”
Alayna interrupted her husband. “Like Pierce Industries is going to sell you shares. Did you forget that we have the majority for a reason? Hudson needed to have something to hold—ow!”
She cut off sharply, throwing a scowl in Hudson’s direction.
“That is correct,” he finished, his teeth gritted. “We are here to ask you for…” He paused. “Assistance.”
I tilted my head, evaluating. “This is interesting. You must be mighty desperate if you’re asking me for help. You have to know that’s going to indenture you to me.”
“Why don’t you hear the situation out before you start bartering about payment? At one time, you and I helped each other with no strings attached. Especially when we found the outcome benefitted both of us. You might find this is one of those times.”
A welcome stab of warmth penetrated my numb cocoon. Whether he meant it to be manipulative or not, his words acknowledged the friendship we once had. That friendship had been real. With all the poison we created in the world, we’d also soothed each other’s aches. For a time, anyway. And even if he wanted to use that against me, he couldn’t deny that we’d been what we were.
That cost him to admit that. I could set down my weapons for a moment, though I kept my shield up as I gestured for him to continue. “Go on then. I’m listening.”
He glanced at Alayna, to assure her or be reassured, I didn’t know. Then his focus came back to me. “We have received a series of threats recently. Letters, addressed to me, containing menacing language toward my family.”
The momentary warmth vanished. “And you think I did it?” Of course they did. Of course the past could never be forgotten. Of course I would live with my sins for the rest of my life. How had Hudson managed to escape the same curse?
“No, we didn’t—” he began.
“Well…” Alayna said softly.
Hudson shut her up with a glare. “We didn’t come here to accuse you. But the threats reference the past. The time when you and I were…” Another glance toward his wife, and I realized that he was as uncomfortable about who he’d been as I ever was.
“Playing together,” I finished for him. His gaze dropped, weighted with guilt. “I see.”
I also saw I’d been wrong with my earlier assessment—Hudson hadn’t escaped his past, though there was every chance the worst was just now catching up to him.
I could empathize with that. More than I wanted to admit. In fact, with my husband currently circling the block with every intention of busting in soon, I understood Hudson completely.
“Do you have these letters with you?” I asked, despite feeling the pressure of time. “May I read them?”
He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a stack of photocopied papers then slid them across the table toward me. Then he threw back the rest of his drink, finishing it in one swallow.
It had taken all my courage to go to him that day in his office, to ask him to help keep my father in the dark about the ownership of his company. I’d had to set down a lot of anger and shame and regret in order to walk through his door. It was evident that he was now doing the same.
I know, Hudson. I fucking know.
I blinked away the sting in my eyes and focused on the papers in front of me. Quickly, the words I read replaced any notion toward sentimentality with something else—fear. The letters were clearly threats, the most haunting phrases sticking out as though they’d been written in bold.
“...should have counted on your past coming back to haunt you.”
“You can’t buy your way out of paying for your sins.”
“...don’t deserve your happy life.”
“The safety of your tower is an illusion.”
“You weren't always perfect. Your past is filled with misdeeds.”
“The people you hurt remember.”
I tried to ignore the sick feeling in my stomach to see the clues peppered in, references, as Hudson had said, to games we’d played. A mention of an affair. Of a marriage charade. “This reference about the mask you wear,” I said, thinking out loud, “could be referring to that masquerade party we went to.” Whom had we messed with that time? Whomever it was, it was a different game than the one with the fake marriage license that was mentioned in the next letter. And another game entirely from the one with the sick dog.
I shook my head, confused. “But none of the rest fits.” I flipped to the last page of the five he’d handed me.
“That one contained a picture of Alayna in the park with the twins. She hadn’t known she’d been photographed.”
A chill ran down my spine. If I’d discovered that Cleo and I had been secretly followed…
Then a more chilling thought—had Edward found out about Hudson? Was this his doing?
I swallowed down another wave of nausea with a, “Hm.”
I didn’t want to think about it, but I forced myself to really consider. It wasn’t impossible that this was Edward. He had access to my journals. He could have made these references based on what he’d read there.
But was this really Edward’s M.O.? Threatening children? And why would he keep trying to press me for my secrets if he already knew?
Maybe I was jumping to conclusions. Please, God, let me be jumping to conclusions.
But a glance at my watch said more than twenty minutes had passed since I’d sat down, and if I didn’t get out of there soon, Edward would walk in and discover who Hudson really was, whether he already knew or not, and then Hudson would have a whole hell of a lot more trouble than just a stalker.
I gathered all the letters together and passed them back to Hudson. “I do think you're right, that it’s someone from the past,” I said, throwing the suspicion off of Edward for myself if not for anyone else. “But it’s like a scavenger hunt. You have to do a lot of digging before you can figure out what these vague clues mean.”
Hudson didn’t take the letters. “We were hoping that you would help us put those clues together.”
If I helped them, I’d be able to rule out Edward for sure.
And if it wasn’t Edward, would that be better or worse? Knowing
that there was a real threat to Hudson and his family. Or, rather, an unknown threat, because Edward was as real a danger as any.
But if it wasn’t Edward, he’d find out about Hudson and all the time I’d spent protecting him would be in vain.
And, if it was Edward…
I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.
“I can’t do that. I can’t take these.” He still refused to take the letters so I set them down on the table. “I’m sorry that I can’t be more helpful, I just can’t.”
Alayna leaned desperately toward me. “You can’t? Or you won’t?”
I wanted to help her then, genuinely. From one mother to another, I wanted to figure out who was behind the threats to her family. Threats that I’d helped cause, one way or another.
“We don’t have to take up much of your time, Ceeley,” Hudson said. “If you even just allowed us access to the journals so we could piece together—”
“The journals?” It shouldn’t have startled me that he would remember the journals or even that he’d ask for them, but it did, only because, I realized then, how easy it would be for Hudson to put things together and suspect Edward might be involved.
And now twenty-five minutes had passed. “I don’t have them here. They’re in London. I’m sorry. It’s not going to work. I can’t help you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I really must be going.” I grabbed my purse, slid out of the booth, and without looking back, headed swiftly toward the exit.
“Celia, wait.”
Against my better judgement, I stopped just feet away from the door and turned back toward Hudson.
“This person could come after you, too,” he said. “I might only be victim number one. You aren’t innocent here. Your past is as tainted as mine.”
If it wasn’t Edward sending these letters, having Hudson on my side would be a real benefit.
But getting involved wasn’t worth the risk. The risk to him.
“And I understand I’ll be on my own if and when that happens. I can’t help you, Hudson.”
He looked at me incredulously. And with utter disappointment, like I’d let him down more now than at any other time in the course of our relationship.
“I really thought you’d softened,” he said, and the words hurt most because I had and because he couldn’t understand how much I’d fought to protect him.
“You know nothing about me, Hudson,” I said as Alayna walked up to us. “Not anymore.” I was out the door before he could say anything more.
...and three steps later I plowed right into Edward. “What’s going on? The meeting’s over already?”
Fuck.
“There was no meeting,” I said, then realizing that Hudson and Alayna might be seconds from leaving the bar themselves, I corrected myself. “It was a bust. Nothing useful.”
I started walking down the block, wanting distance from Randall’s, but Edward snatched my elbow, stopping me. “What does that mean? He refused to sell again? Why did he want to meet?”
His questions sounded genuine, not like the kind meant to throw a woman off his tracks. But was I blinding myself about Edward?
Suddenly, I felt like crying.
All of it was too much. Either my husband was an unhinged psychopath or there was someone with a real grudge going after Hudson, and whichever it was, I couldn’t explain it to Edward without making matters worse.
Which meant I needed to lie, and I didn’t want to lie to the man I loved.
So I stuck as much to the truth as possible. “It was a setup,” I said. “Hudson brought his wife. They have no intention of selling. They made that very clear.”
Edward’s brows furrowed. “Then why did they call this meeting? Just to rile you up?”
I shrugged, a tear escaping despite my attempts to hold it back. “Yeah. Something like that.”
Immediately, he was fuming. “He brought you here to bloody bully you? Fuck that. Fuck that man. I’m going in there and telling him exactly what I think about that.”
He’d already turned toward the bar so I had to quicken my steps to grab him. “You can’t!”
“I’m not letting him get away with this, Celia. We’ve been reasonable. Terrorizing you is indecent and uncalled for and like hell will he do that to my wife without paying.”
“He didn’t terrorize me! I promise. He didn’t. Can you please let it go?”
He calmed down, but only slightly. “Obviously he did something. Tell me what happened.”
I shook my head, at a loss for what to say.
He turned toward the bar door again, and once more I pulled him back. “Please, Edward. Please, let it go. I’m upset because he reminded me of who I’d been in the past. That’s all. There’s nothing you need to say to him. I promise. Please, just take me home.”
He looked unconvinced, his body still slightly poised in the direction I’d just come from.
“Please!” I begged, more desperate than I’d ever remembered being with him, and it felt like I was pleading for so much more than just to stop him from going in that bar. I was pleading for him to choose me, for once, instead of his wrath. For him to listen to what I needed and not what he thought I needed, a battle I’d lost over and over and over in our marriage. “Please, Edward! Please!”
He paused.
With a labored sigh, he put one arm around me and pulled out his phone from his pocket with the other. “Bert, we’re ready,” he said.
He held me until Bert came, neither of us speaking, and even when we got into the car, I clung to him, grateful that he’d listened, relieved that he’d chosen me.
But also fully aware that the clock was still ticking, and that eventually—soon, even—the time bomb would explode.
Eleven
Edward
“Second quarter reports aren’t ready yet, but I guarantee you the earnings are well above predicted. Now is the time to double down on investment, not back out.”
I tapped my pen against my chin and stared out the suite’s living room window at the sun setting over the park. The rep from Sonovision continued his spiel through my mobile, but I was barely paying attention. The phone call had been on my agenda for days, and as it was Sunday evening (after nine in the morning in Tokyo), I hadn’t thought to cancel it until it had been upon me.
I had no real cause to cancel, anyway, except that I was distracted. Celia’s reaction to her meeting with Pierce unnerved me for several reasons. I very much wanted to hang up on Sonovision and call him instead. Whatever he’d said or done to cause my wife’s distress deserved following up, and I was eager to do so for her sake.
And I was still very much interested in negotiating for the Werner shares. That battle wasn’t anywhere near over, and if Pierce had expected his little scene tonight to dissuade me, he obviously didn’t know who he was dealing with.
But as much as I was ready and willing to attack Pierce, I was very aware that Celia was keeping me in the dark. She’d shut down entirely on the ride back to the hotel. Once in our suite, she’d occupied herself with the baby and ordering dinner. When the meal arrived, I’d hoped to have a chance to talk with her, but she’d spent the entire time on a phone call with her mother who was lamenting about the likelihood that Ron’s sentence would be announced the following day. The bits and pieces I’d gleaned from that conversation riled me up in their own way. How the woman’s concerns about her brother-in-law could still be so self-centered and trivial with no regard to Celia baffled me. Though Madge’s ignorance to what happened to her daughter might have been understandable before Ron’s arrest, it certainly seemed she should ask the question after his past was revealed. Her husband, for sure, was practicing willful denial, and so I spent my own dinner alternating between fantasies of putting Pierce in his place and fantasies of putting the Werners in theirs.
As soon as Celia hung up with her parents, my alarm went off reminding me of my scheduled phone call with Sonovision, forcing any discussion to wait even longer. All that to say, negotiating a new a
nime streaming service for distribution in the UK was the least of my current concerns.
“We could be ready to send a contract over in an hour,” Toshiro said, calling my attention back to him. “You could be ready to stream by August.”
He allowed me to consider. In the silence, I realized the water had stopped running in the next room, which meant Celia was done with her shower, and frankly she was the only situation I could truly invest in at the moment.
“I’m going to need to discuss this more with my team, Toshiro,” I said, hoping he wouldn’t realize the conversation had been the waste of time that it had. “And we’ll want to wait for your second quarter reports before deciding anything. Get those sent over when you have them, and we’ll talk again.”
I hung up before he had a chance to refute, just in time for Celia to come out of the bedroom to grab something from the kitchen fridge.
“Feel better?” I called from my desk. It took all I had not to jump up and corner her, demand answers, force her into breaking down her walls and telling me everything.
We weren’t like that anymore, though. We hadn’t been for quite some time.
She crossed to stand by the bookcase, a bottled water in her hand. “A bit,” she said, unscrewing the cap and bringing it up to her lips. When she lowered it, she kept her eyes out the window. “I’m sorry tonight wasn’t more helpful. We just need to change our course of action, is all. I’ll start reaching out to my cousins with shares available to sell tomorrow.”
“Mm,” I said, taking a deep breath before commenting with something more substantial. “You realize that it would be helpful if you talked about what happened tonight. Not just for me, but for you.”
“I’m not so sure about that.”
“I am. Sit down. Let’s talk.”
Her gaze swung to meet mine, and I caught a flash of panic in her eyes. “Are you suggesting a session?”
“Why not?” Immediately, I chastised myself for not being more commanding about it. “Yes, I am suggesting a session.”
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