Laurelin Paige - Hudson

Or maybe it does hurt, but it’s so deep inside, buried so far, that I find a way to ignore it.

I can’t ignore her pain though. It’s written all over her face, all over her carriage. I call her back before she’s gone too far. “Thank you for today. I think you’ve truly made an impression on my mother. Good work.” It’s nothing of what I want to say, but it’s all I allow myself.

Then Jordan drives away, and instead of thinking about all that I’m leaving behind, I concentrate on what is waiting before me until all my emotion—all my rage and anger and bitterness—is focused on Celia.

* * *

The fashion show has started when I return to the Manhattan Center. I know where Celia’s sitting, thank God, and I’m grateful that it’s near the back of the room. When I reach her, I tap her on the shoulder to get her attention then not so gently assist her up from her chair. She doesn’t fight me as I escort her to the lobby and to the coatroom. It’s summer, so it’s not in use.

I can’t help but think of the last coatroom I was in. It was with Alayna at The Sky Launch—I’d barely been able to control my passion with her. Now it’s my temper that’s barely controlled.

After locating the light and shutting the door behind us, I turn on Celia. “What the fuck did you do?” My tone is threatening and wild.

She rolls her eyes at me. “Oh, chill out. I hadn’t had a chance to get to know our subject. I was simply feeling her out.” She takes a seat on the bench in the middle of the room.

“You told her my secrets.” Her lack of concern, her docile temperament, fuels me. She’s fucked me over and isn’t at all afraid of my retaliation. I search for something she’ll find meaningful. “You practically ruined your own scheme by telling her something that we aren’t even supposed to talk about. Ever!” I’m yelling. It’s very unlike me. As if I’m not only feeling new emotions because of Alayna, but feeling old ones deeper and with less inhibition.

With only a mildly surprised look on her face, Celia starts a slow, exaggerated clapping. “Wow, Hudson. You’re angry. I’m impressed.”

She’s pushing my fury. But her recognition of my temper puts me in check. Emotions, I remember, make people weak. I’m extremely vulnerable in this situation, and Celia is not the person who should witness this.

I throw a hand through my hair and rein in my rage. “I get angry. This isn’t new.” I’m noticeably calmer, playing off my outburst.

“You never get this angry. If you do, you don’t let it show.” She places her palms on either side of her and leans back to study me. “Did that therapist of yours finally teach you how to feel?”

She’s poking at me, needling me, and in a flash of clarity, I understand what it’s like to be on the other end of a manipulative attack. The realization weakens me, and I have to sit. I fall on the bench next to Celia.

I have to get myself together. Get myself in the dominating position. I take a deep breath, and let it out slowly. “I’m just…out of practice at this. And you’re changing the rules without consulting me. I’m frustrated.” Another breath in and out.

“Understandable, I suppose.” She’s watching me with eagle eyes. “But I didn’t change the rules. I saw a flaw in our scenario and I improvised. Same as we always do.”

I’m cautious, but this piques my interest. “What flaw?”

She shifts so she’s angled toward me. “The girl is doe-eyed about you, Hudson. It’s obvious she’s going to fall apart over you, and while that’s the expectation, this was going to be entirely too easy.” She runs a finger between her brows. “So I injected a little challenge. That’s all.”

Another rush of emotion washes over me. I’m angry again. Angry that Celia is playing with Alayna like this, molding her, bouncing her back and forth. “Making the experiment more challenging? Since when was that something we’d aspired to?”

She shrugs. “This is your first game in a long time. I wanted to make it good for you.”

It’s plausible. Her motives could very well be to keep me interested. God knows she’s been trying to reel me back in for years.

But I know Celia better than that. The challenge is for her. And I’m still not entirely sure that was the reason for exposing me to Alayna. I just can’t determine her true aim.

More composed now, I attempt to figure it out. “That was quite a risk you took. She almost quit the whole thing.”

Celia delivers a confident smirk. “But she didn’t. Did she?”

“Only because I convinced her not to. If it hadn’t been for me, she would be gone.” A tug of guilt—I should have let her walk away. Whatever happens now between Celia and Alayna is my fault.

But wasn’t it always?

Celia crosses a leg over the other and clasps her hands at her knee. “If it hadn’t been for you, she wouldn’t be so enamored in the first place.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just that the scheme would have worked more objectively if you hadn’t fucked her.”

There it is—her true motive. She’s not happy about my personal relationship with Alayna. Is it jealousy? Or just pure spite? “You’ve never cared if I fucked them before.”

“And I still don’t. Except when it messes with the hypothesis.” She stands, straightening her skirt as she does. Then she turns to face me. “Your extracurricular activities are your own business. Keep up your fun if you prefer. But realize that what you do with Alayna Withers outside our plan has the power to affect the outcome.”

“It’s a little late for that sentiment. You’ve effectively ended any extracurricular activities, as you like to call it.” I know that despite Celia’s animosity or jealousy or whatever, she’s actually done Alayna a favor. There is a connection between her and me, and Celia’s right that our sex life is only hurting Alayna’s chances at remaining strong. I’ve known this for quite some time, yet I didn’t have the strength on my own to end things as I should.

This is for the best, as devastating as it is for me to live with.

Celia recognizes my disappointment. She crosses behind me and strokes a hand through the hair at my temple. “I’m sorry, Hudson. I really am. I probably shouldn’t have intervened as I did. I just know that you have faith that Alayna will come out of this strong, and with the road you had chosen, that was simply not going to happen.” She leans down and hugs me from behind, her mouth at my ear. “I did it for you. To give your thesis a fighting chance. Forgive me?”

I tense under her touch. We’ve had physical contact over the years, growing comfortable enough with each other to kiss and embrace when scenarios called for it. But now, her arms around me feel like shackles. She has a hold on me, I realize. And I have no idea how to break free.

Pushing out of her embrace, I stand and spin to her. “Don’t pretend this was for me, Celia. You forget I know you. You wanted to make the game more challenging—well, you did just that. Good luck with the rest of this going the way you’d like.”

I head to the door, but she calls after me. “The symphony on Thursday? It’s still our next outing, correct?”

I’m still committed to my vow to keep Alayna from Celia, but an outright refusal will only goad my partner. “I’ll see what I can do, but I’m making no promises.”

Later, in the limo as Jordan drives me home to change before my flight, I have my first taste of loneliness. I miss Alayna. I want to see her, to touch her, to hear her voice.

But mixed in with the loneliness is a measure of affection. It’s not anything I understand. All I know is that I care more for Alayna’s well-being in the moment than for mine. So when her text arrives, I ignore my impulse to respond. I need to help her let me go.

I read it one more time. “Thanks for the coffee. And for everything else.”

And then I push delete.

The next few days are painful. I work punishing hours, throwing all my energy into solving the problems at Plexis. But the nights are long and lonely. Neither alcohol nor jerking off relieves any of my need. If I were a subject in one of my own experiments, my point would be proved—affinity toward another person makes one flawed. Still, as miserable and weak as I am now, I wouldn’t give up the moments I’ve shared with Alayna.

I’d planned to fly directly to Chicago on Wednesday for another meeting regarding Plexis on Thursday morning, but I come back to Manhattan late Tuesday night instead. It’s harder to fight my desire to run to her, but I find comfort being in the same city. I spend the night in the loft, and thoughts of our time together accompany me as I drift in and out of a fitful sleep.

First thing Wednesday morning, I receive a report from Jordan. He’s still driving Alayna and, more importantly, still reporting back to me. His report is somewhat banal, except that I note Alayna’s stopped by Pierce Industries the last two days. Her behavior might be written off as meaningless to someone else, but I understand things about her that others don’t. I wonder if her visits are an indication of falling into past habits.

The idea worries me. It’s a minor win for Celia.

At the same time, I’m blanketed by a warm tingle that is almost comforting. It’s a shitty thing to take joy in, but I’m not triumphing in her setbacks. I’m hopeful, instead, that her actions indicate something else—that I mean something to her. That I’m on her mind. That she feels some affection toward me as I feel toward her.

Though why it matters is beyond me.

It’s after an impromptu lunch meeting with one of my advertising teams that I see her. I’ve walked my associates to the elevator, one of the men finishing a joke as the doors open.

And there she is.

“Alayna.” Even saying her name is a treat I’ve denied myself. I’m dizzy at the sight of her, but I’m aware of where we are and of what our relationship is, and I manage to keep much of my surprise to myself.

She’s frozen, a deer-in-the-headlights expression written all over her face. I hold a hand out to her. She takes it and I’m elated. How simple to be thrilled at only the touch of a woman’s hand? It’s ridiculous and wonderful all at once.

I turn to my team. “Gentlemen, my girlfriend has decided to surprise me with a visit to my office.”

The men make some wisecrack that I miss because I’m completely absorbed in her smile. Completely absorbed in her.

The next few minutes are a blur, but finally, I have Alayna with me in my office. Alone.

Nothing about this is a good idea.

With great strength, I drop my hand and distance myself from her physically and figuratively. “What are you doing here, Alayna?”

She doesn’t look at me. That helps.

As she works out her answer, I study her. I understand her, I think. The feeling of wanting to be near someone and knowing you shouldn’t be. Yeah, I get that.

After a while, she hugs her arms around herself and takes a deep breath. “I, uh, I wanted to see if you were back.”

This is difficult for her. It’s difficult for me too. “I got back late last night. You could have called. Or texted.” It’s impressive that I can seemingly remain so cold about her presence when in reality I’m spinning with elation.

“You don’t answer my texts.”

“I didn’t answer one text.”

A tear runs down her cheek. “It was my only text.”

Our eyes remain locked, and I find myself slipping into examination mode. I’m collecting data—the vulnerability in the way she stands, the frailty in her voice, the weight of her tears. But unlike the other times I’ve studied women in the same position, I’m moved by her. I can’t stay hard with her, even if it’s what’s best for both of us, and I falter. “I didn’t realize it was important to you. I’ll make a better effort to respond in the future.”

She gapes.

I’ve surprised her as much as myself, and I fear my softening has done irreparable damage. I straighten, assuming a commanding position. “But you can’t just come here like this. How do you think it looks to have my girlfriend wandering around the lobby, riding the elevators when I’m not even in town?”

“How did you…?”

“I pay people to know things, Alayna.”

More tears fall. “I…I’m sorry. I couldn’t help myself.”

“Please, don’t do it again.” I’m ripped apart. I want to pull her in my arms, not admonish her.

Her forehead wrinkles in confusion. “Why are you being like this?”

“Like what?” I’m as confused as she is. Was I too stern? I thought I’d been gentle. Well, as gentle as I could be without betraying us both.