The Fixed Trilogy: Fixed on You, Found in You, Forever With You (59 page)

He blinked. Twice. “I can’t. You’re right. It’s not different.”

“But that’s all I get? You won’t change it?” It wasn’t going to be much of a victory if he answered the way I suspected he would.

“I can’t lose Norma. She’s too valuable to my company.”

And that was what I’d expected he’d say.

I leaned on the back of the armchair. There was nothing to say. Nothing I could say. He agreed with my point but was unwilling to do anything about it. Now we were at an impasse. Our eyes locked on each other as we each silently refused to back down.

After several long seconds, Hudson swore under his breath and looked away. When he turned back, he asked, “Do you want David to stay?”

My heart flipped in my chest. “Would you let him if I said yes?”

His eye twitched. “If that’s the only way to make this right, then I would.”

A thrill of happiness ran through me.

Until I remembered all the reasons why David staying wasn’t a good idea.

“Dammit, Hudson.” I couldn’t believe I was actually going to say what I was going to say next. “No. I don’t want David to stay anymore.” I refused to meet Hudson’s eyes. “It wouldn’t be good for him. He’s…he’s in love with me.”

“I know.”

I already knew Hudson knew. It was me that was just now admitting it.

I turned away from the desk and plopped myself down on his couch. Hudson came and sat down next to me. I rubbed my hand across his cheek. “Thank you for offering, though. I know that wasn’t easy for you.”

“No. It wasn’t.” He ran his fingers up and down my arm, leaving goose bumps in their wake. “But it would be worth it to make you happy.”

Man, he’d grown up in the last few weeks. I had to give him that.

But maybe I hadn’t, because I still wasn’t quite ready to let the subject of Norma Anders go to rest. “Have you considered that maybe it’s not good for Norma to work with you either?”

Hudson chuckled. “No, I haven’t. And I’m sure it’s not.”

I shifted to face him. “Could we make some sort of concession here?” I took his hand in mine, playing with it as I talked. “Like, could you not have meetings alone with her? Is there anyone else on your team that could join you in the future?”

With his free hand, he brushed a piece of hair out of my face. “On the project we’re currently working on—no. But it’s almost done, and I don’t expect that this level of secrecy would be necessary in the future.”

And on top of their private meetings, they were sharing a secret. Fucking great. “What project are you working on?”

“Nothing you’d be interested in.” Before I had a chance to scowl, he corrected himself. “I’m trying to purchase a company from someone who would never sell if they knew I was the purchaser. Norma’s the only person I can trust not to leak the information.”

“Fine.” I hated that there was no way around their working relationship. Hated it. But what could I do? “Fine,” I said again, more for me than him. “Social settings only, please. Where there are people around. And when this deal’s over, you won’t need private meetings with her anymore?”

“No. I won’t.”

“I’m going to still ask about her. Like, all the time. Because I can’t just let it go.”

He nodded. “I understand.”

Though I was pleased that we’d worked through our argument constructively, the resolution was still a bitter pill to swallow. “Do you know how much this hurts to let you keep her employed?” I squeezed his hand hard, digging my fingernails into the back of his hand to accentuate my pain level.

Hudson narrowed his eyes, tolerating my assault. “Believe me, I do.”

“Okay then. As long as we’re clear.” I released his hand.

“Was there another reason you stopped by?” He rubbed the back of his hand. “Or was Norma the intended subject all along?”

I laughed as I recalled the ridiculousness of my day. “No. I came by because I just wanted to see you. Lunch was…interesting…and then Celia was there again.”

His brow shot up. “Celia was there?”

“Jordan said he texted you.”

Hudson reached in his pants pocket and pulled out his phone. He flipped through a few screens. “Damn. I left my phone on silent. I didn’t know. She didn’t try anything?”

“Nope. Just let me know she was there.”

“Alayna. I’m so sorry.” He pulled me so I was half on his lap and wrapped his arms around me from behind.

I sighed, settling into the warmth of him.

Hudson kissed the top of my head. “Maybe you should take some time off. I could send you out of town. Would you like another week at my spa?”

I stretched my head to see if he was serious. He was. “I can’t leave now. Not with everything at the club. And she’ll know she scared me off. I can’t let her have that victory.”

“That’s a very brave response. I just hate that you’re in this position.” He tightened his arms around my breasts.

It was then that I remembered my other reason for stopping by. “Do you have a plan to deal with her?”

He was silent for a beat. “I talked to my lawyer today,” he said finally. “As you said, there’s nothing we can do legally. But we’re looking into some other options.”

“Illegal options?”

“How about you let me handle this? I’ll fill you in when everything’s sorted out.”

I didn’t have the energy at the moment to push him. Besides, it seemed he really didn’t have anything worked out at all, and forcing him to admit that would be unkind.

So I let it go. “You require an awful lot of trust these days.”

He placed a light kiss at my temple. “Too much?” His voice was strained and his body tight—it was his turn to need my reassurance.

So I said, “No. I trust you.” Though sometimes my trust was more of a work-in-progress. I turned to kiss his cheek. “I know you’ll take care of me.”

“Always.” His lips met mine just as his intercom buzzed. He sighed against my mouth. “I’m sure that’s Patricia letting me know my next appointment is here.”

I stood and then offered my hand to help him up. “Guess my blowjob plans are shot to hell then.”

His eyes darkened. “Maybe I could make them wait.”

Laughing, I swatted at his shoulder. “Shut up. I didn’t have blowjob plans. For all that I’m conceding to, I think I’m the one who deserves the sexual favors.”

“Tonight.”

“I’m holding you to it, H.” I reached up to give him a final peck on the lips. “Meanwhile, you should know that I hate you a little.”

“You do not. You love me.”

I shrugged. “Same thing.”

Hudson walked me out so he could welcome his next client in as I was leaving. I’d almost made it to the elevators when Trish called after me.

I walked back to her desk, wondering if she meant to scold me for keeping Hudson occupied.

“This was delivered for you while you were with Mr. Pierce.” Trish handed me a simple white envelope with my name written in block letters on the outside.

It didn’t occur to me that I should have given the envelope to my bodyguard until after I’d opened it and found the same business card that had been stuck in my books at home. Celia Werner, Interior Design.

The knot in my belly tightened. She’d been on foot when I’d left her at the restaurant. How could she possibly have followed me so quickly? Did she simply guess that I’d come here? Why hadn’t Reynold seen her coming up in the lobby?

“Who gave you this?” I asked Trish, aware that my voice was more demanding than would be deemed polite.

“I don’t know. A courier. I didn’t pay attention.”

“Was she blonde, blue-eyes—”

Trish cut me off. “It was a he.”

That explained why Reynold hadn’t seen Celia—she’d had someone else deliver it. As for knowing I was at Hudson’s office, well, wasn’t that predictable of me too?

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. All she’d left was a silly business card. It didn’t hurt me. It was meant to scare me, that’s all. Meant to warn me that she was watching. That she knew how to get to me.

Resolving to
not
let her get to me, I opened my eyes. I quickly scrawled a note to Hudson on the white envelope and put the card back inside. “Thank you, Trish. When Hudson is free, can you give this to him?”

I really wanted to burst through his doors and show him personally. Then convince him that both of us should leave it all behind and go to his spa.

But that would be running away. And running away never solves anything. Or so, that’s what everyone always says.

Chapter Nine

After I left Hudson’s office, I decided to try to forget my tension by wrapping myself in work. I was successful for most of the afternoon, but the anxiousness and stress of the day lingered just under the surface. I had to be at the club to meet Gwen by eight and imagined it would be a late night. I longed for a run, but decided instead on a group therapy session. Thursdays weren’t the day I usually went, but there was a session at six led by my favorite counselor. I could grab a bite to eat, hit the group, and be back in time to work that evening.

I shifted in my rusty folding chair in the Unity Church basement as I focused on listening to the others share. Most of the Thursday night regulars were strangers to me, and it seemed most of their addictions were hard to relate to mine. One person was a shopping addict. Another was addicted to social media. There was a gamer there too, a guy who was just as consumed with buying the latest system and game as he was with playing them. The only person that I felt even slightly connected to was the tattooed sex addict that I’d seen on other nights as well. I’d heard her speak before and recognized a lot of her same fears and frustrations as my own.

“Would you like to share anything, Laynie?”

I was more than a little surprised when the group leader called my name. Members weren’t required to speak at each meeting—or ever, if they didn’t feel comfortable—so it was odd for Lauren to call on me specifically. She knew me, though, having counseled me since the early days of my recovery. And if she couldn’t tell from my demeanor that I had something on my mind, the fact that I’d shown up twice in one week had to be an indicator.

I gave the customary history of my illness and then paused. Since I hadn’t planned on speaking, I wasn’t quite sure what I wanted to say. After a breath, I said, “I’ve had some extra stressors in my life recently, and I’m here because I feel like it’s causing me to backslide.”

Lauren nodded, her long braids clicking with the movement. “Very concise identification of emotion, Laynie. Let’s first talk about what kind of stressors you’re dealing with. Is there anything you can eliminate?”

“Not really.” I guess half of my stressors would be removed if I broke up with Hudson, but that wasn’t an option I was willing to consider.

“And that’s perfectly fine. Sometimes you can’t eliminate stressors.” Lauren turned her words to the whole group, using it as a teaching moment. “Most times you have to deal with them. Or we choose to deal with them because the reward is greater than the impact of the stress.”

Boy, had she nailed it. “Yes. That’s it.”

“So what are these stressors?”

“Um.” Now that I thought about it, I realized I’d had a lot in the last few weeks. “I recently moved in with my boyfriend.” I didn’t add that the relationship was still fairly new. At least not out loud. Internally, I marked it as another factor in my anxiety level.

“You have a new living situation.” It was customary for the leader to acknowledge the information shared. “That’s an adjustment.”

“Yes. And I just took a huge promotion at my job.”

The room buzzed as people shared congratulations. “Kudos to you,” Lauren said. “But yes, another stressor.”

“And my boyfriend...” How to bring up my current situation when I wasn’t quite sure why I was in it in the first place was tricky. “He has baggage that I’m having some trouble dealing with.”

Here Lauren took notice. “What kind of baggage?”

“Well, his ex—” Celia wasn’t really his ex, but it was easier to call her that. “She’s decided for whatever reason that it’s her mission to destroy our relationship. She’s been terrorizing us. Me, really. First, she accused me of harassing her—which I didn’t do.” I looked around at the other group members. “Honestly.”

“Hey, no one’s judging you here,” Lauren reminded.

Which wasn’t exactly true, because I was certainly judging myself. Admitting the next part was especially hard. I was about to complain about the thing people usually complained about me for. “And now she’s harassing me. Following me places. Leaving me notes and things.”

“Oh my god,” the shopping addict exclaimed. “Have you been to the police?”

A few other people mumbled the same concern.

I shook my head, halting the talk. “She hasn’t done anything worthy of reporting.” I could go on about what was and wasn’t worthy of reporting, but it wasn’t relevant.

“That kind of harassment would be stressful to anyone.” Lauren leaned toward me, her forearms braced on her thighs. “But I’m going to take a guess that it’s been harder on you. Does it bring back emotions from your past?”

“Of course it does. I used to do these same things to other people. It’s awful. It makes me feel awful.” I’d been afraid I might cry, but surprisingly, the tears were absent. Perhaps, I was growing stronger or had become more reconciled with the situation.

With my emotions in control, I was able to delve further into analysis. “Also…I kind of feel like I deserve it now. Like it’s my karma for the shit I pulled.”

The red-haired sex addict piped up, “You know that’s not how life works, right?”

“I guess.” But hell, I didn’t really know anything.

Lauren let us sit silently for a moment. She believed in a lot of quiet moments of reflection. They were often the worst and the best parts of the session.

I chewed on my lip as I processed. “Honestly, I know there are things that I need to work through in the area of self-worth. I’m journaling. I’m doing some meditation—yes, I need to do more. But really, those aren’t the emotions that I’m concerned with.”

“Okay,” Lauren conceded, “as long as you recognize that you have some work to do there, we can move on. So you have these stressors—some of them good—that can’t be eliminated. And you say they’re causing you to backslide. How so?”

I ticked the list off on my fingers. “I’m agitated. I’m anxious. I’m paranoid. I’m accusatory.”

“That sounds like me on my period.” Again from the sex addict.

“Yeah, I call that being a woman.” This came from the compulsive shopper.

I couldn’t decide if they were attempting to relate or invalidating my feelings. Paranoid that I was, I assumed the latter. “You’re saying these are normal emotions, and I need to just chill the fuck out.”

“Maybe,” sex addict said.

“Not necessarily.” Lauren tapped her index fingers together. “They are normal emotions. But if they are impacting your daily life and relationships, then you need to deal with them.”

“They aren’t…yet. But only because I’m fighting them.” At least I was trying. “The paranoia is the worst and it’s unfounded. I’m suspicious of a woman my boyfriend works with. And I have no reason to be. Fortunately, he likes it when I’m jealous.” I delivered the last part for the sex addict who winked in appreciation.

“Do you think you’d like to try medication?” Lauren preferred to stay away from drugs, but she always offered it as a solution.

I’d hated the numb zombie I’d become on the anti-anxiety pills I’d taken in the past. “No. No meds. I’d rather handle this on my own.”

“Well, you know the drill.”

“Yes. I do. Substitute behaviors.” Though two of my go-to substitutes were running and reading—both had been compromised by Celia.

Lauren pointed a stern finger at me. “And communication. Make sure you talk through all the feelings you’re having, no matter how unreasonable.”

I tried not to roll my eyes. “That’s why I’m here.”

She smiled in a way that made me think she understood I’d felt patronized. “Being here is a great step, Laynie. Don’t get me wrong. But it’s not just us you need to talk to. Make sure you’re communicating with your boyfriend too.”

Communicating with Hudson…

God, I was trying. We were both trying. But if I really went there, really told him all the paranoia that lived inside, about the knot of dread that permanently occupied my belly—would he still be interested?

As she often did, Lauren addressed my unspoken concerns. “I know, it’s scary. You’re afraid other people can’t deal with your thoughts and your feelings. And I can’t promise that they can. But this is who you are. It’s not going away. If you can’t share who you are with the people who love you, then maybe they don’t really love you.”

That was the biggest question of all, wasn’t it? Did Hudson truly love me? He’d shown me that he did, but he’d still never really said it. And I’d never really asked. Maybe there were still things left to be said—by both of us.

***

Gwen showed up to The Sky Launch fifteen minutes early, which would have been impressive if I wasn’t running in just she arrived. And because of everything else on my mind, I felt off my game. Fortunately David was there with me to help fill in the gaps as we walked through the club and talked about what role Gwen might fill.

It turned out Gwen Anders knew her stuff. At every turn she had appropriate questions and innovative ideas. She was no-nonsense, enthusiastic, and forward-thinking. Though most everything she said was right on, I inexplicably bristled a few times at her suggestions. Maybe because she was tough. Maybe because she challenged me. Maybe because I was on edge in general.

After the tour, Gwen helped us open for the night. Then we moved back to David’s office to wrap things up. More accurately,
my
office, since David was leaving. Maybe
our
office if I decided Gwen would be the one to help me with The Sky Launch.

“So,” Gwen began, “right now the club is open from nine p.m. to four a.m., Tuesday through Saturday?” Gwen and I were settled on the couch. David had pulled the desk chair around to make an easy conversational area.

“Right,” David confirmed.

“But we’re moving to expand the hours and be open seven days a week.” That had been one of my goals since I’d gotten my promotion to assistant manager.

Gwen frowned. “That doesn’t seem the best idea right now. Eventually perhaps. But right now you aren’t filled to capacity when you are open.”

I tried to hide my scowl. It was refreshing that she was so direct, but attacking one of my ideas so blatantly didn’t sit well.

Apparently not noticing my reaction, Gwen went on. “Why would you extend your hours? First step is to bring more people in, fill the club, then expand.”

David looked hesitantly to me. “There’s actually some good reasoning in that, Laynie.”

There
was
good reasoning. Still, did I want to work with someone who was always so forthright?

I wasn’t sure.

“Expansion was your idea, wasn’t it?” Gwen finally caught on. She shrugged. “I stand by my opinion.”

She was good. Real good. “Gwen, I have a feeling we’re either going to be very close friends or bitter enemies.”

“Do you want this job, Gwen? Because I’d suggest the close friends angle and then you’re a shoe-in.” It was sort of cute how David tried to smooth the tension over. He’d never been one to like conflict. He was more of a people-pleaser.

“Oh, I don’t know.” Gwen crossed her long legs. “Alayna’s a smart woman. She strikes me as the type to know the value in keeping your enemies close.”

I narrowed my eyes. The last time I’d heard that phrase it had been from Celia. Keeping her close hadn’t benefitted me at all. Of course, I hadn’t been aware she was my enemy at the time, and I wasn’t sure that Gwen was my enemy either. I just didn’t know enough about the woman yet.

“Tell me something, Gwen.” I put my elbow on the arm of the couch and propped my chin in my hand. “Why do you want to leave Eighty-Eighth Floor?” The question had crossed my mind before, but I hadn’t gotten around to asking until just then. “You seem to be an integral part of that club’s success, and, not that I wouldn’t love to steal you away from them, but why would you let me?”

“Sometimes a woman just needs a change of scenery.” She ran a hand over her leg, smoothing out her pantsuit with deliberate focus.

“I don’t buy it.” If she could be hard-nosed, so could I.

“Touché.” She sighed then met my eyes. “Personal reasons. Forgive me for not being more forthcoming, but it really doesn’t have any bearing on why I should or shouldn’t be hired. My boss at Eighty-Eighth knows I want to leave. He’ll give me a good reference. Other than that, I’d rather not share.”

People and their damn secrets. I wondered if Hudson knew Gwen’s reasons. I wondered if he’d tell me if I asked.

Then, paranoia snuck in, and I wondered if it wasn’t the reasons she wanted to leave Eighty-Eighth Floor that were important, but the reasons she wanted to work at The Sky Launch. “It’s not because of Hudson, is it? That you want to work here.”

“I’m not sure what you’re asking. If you mean, do I want to work here because this club is the only one in town owned by the powerful business exec Hudson Pierce who also runs the hottest restaurant in town—Fierce—and the hottest club in Atlantic City—Adora—then the answer is yes. I want to work here because Hudson Pierce has the power needed to make this place live up to its potential. The Sky Launch is one of the few places that could rival what Eighty-Eighth is.”

Of course that’s why she’d want to work here. What other reasons would there be?

I scolded myself for thinking the personal reason had to do with Hudson. Trust. I had to remember trust.

Blowing a piece of hair out of my eye, I made my decision. “Then you’re hired. Not because you’re my friend or my enemy but because you’re exactly who I need. I reserve the right to pass judgment on you personally in the future.”

Gwen smiled slightly. “Fair enough.”

David stood and held out his hand. Gwen stood up to shake it. “Welcome aboard,” he said. “Sorry I won’t be here to watch you kick ass. Or kick Laynie’s ass. Either way, I think you’re going to knock her off her feet.”

“Hey, now. I can kick ass, too.” I stood and put my hands on my hips, feigning indignation.

The look on Gwen’s face said she doubted my statement.

“What’s that expression for? You can’t doubt me. You don’t even know me.”

“No, I don’t.” She narrowed her eyes. “But you have to be lacking something—or you
think
you’re lacking something. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have come looking for me.”