“Excellent idea.” He paused, waiting for Liesl to get a little closer, ensuring she got a good show. Then he got out of the car and crossed to my door, opening it to let me out. He brushed his thumb down my cheek. “Ready?”
I was never ready, but I tilted my chin up so my mouth could meet his. Our lips joined, our tongues flitting around each other. My knees buckled, but his hands were around my back, supporting me. I gripped his shirt, wanting desperately to tangle my fingers in his hair, knowing that would only fuel my lust. Seriously, it had only been a couple of hours since our adventure in the dressing room, and yet it felt like I hadn’t gotten any in months.
He pulled away and stole a glance at Liesl. “She saw,” he said softly.
“Oh.” I’d already forgotten our PDA had been meant for her. “Good.” I swallowed. “Thank you,” I whispered, still breathless. “For today.” For buying me pretty clothes, for ignoring my request to keep the day sex-free, for taking the air out of my lungs with a kiss on Columbus Circle.
“Tomorrow, Alayna.”
I managed to pull myself away from him, only looking back once as he got in the car. Liesl folded her arms across her chest, leaning against the door, holding it open for me. “Time for details,” she said as I passed her.
And I delivered, telling her all about Hudson and Alayna, the happy couple, interweaving truth with fiction. I told her we’d met at Stern and that he’d bought the club to be near me, but not to tell that to David. I told her we spent all our free time together, that we couldn’t keep our hands off each other, that we were madly in love.
The lies came easily and they felt good. They felt believable. Not because I knew Liesl believed them, which she did, but because I almost could too.
It was nearly four when Jordan and I had finished unloading all my packages into my apartment, but I wasn’t tired yet. For a moment I had a pang of regret, wishing I’d let Hudson take me home instead. Thoughts of him had clung to me all night—I couldn’t count the number of times I’d started and deleted a text to him—and my sex felt swollen and aching with want of him.
I’d been strong in the car, recognizing the unhealthiness of filling all my time with the man. Now, alone and needy, I weakened. Instead of heading straight to bed, as I should have done, I turned on my computer and allowed myself to do the one thing I’d tried so hard not to do: I cyber-stalked.
I told myself I needed to find information about Hudson so I’d be prepared. What if his mother made a comment about his college background? I’d want to know he studied at Harvard. Or what if someone asked me about my thoughts on Hudson’s philanthropic investments? It benefited me to know he was a major benefactor of the Lincoln Center and that he funded a private scholarship at Julliard.
And his exes. I needed to know about them, too. Though, I didn’t find much in that department. Mostly pictures of Hudson with a variety of women. I gasped when I recognized one of the women as Stacy from Mirabelle’s shop. She’d been on at least one date with Hudson. No wonder she had animosity toward me.
Not one face repeated except for Celia Werner’s, the thin, pretty blonde his family wanted him to marry. They never actually appeared “together” together, but she did have a look of adoration in her eyes that caused me to doubt that she would be completely unhappy with an arranged marriage with him. But, then again, I couldn’t believe anyone would be unhappy with Hudson.
I found out a great deal about my supposed boyfriend in those hours, but, truthfully, my Internet search had little to do with being prepared for Hudson’s family and friends. I searched because I felt compelled to understand the man who affected me so completely. I read article after article because I wanted to know the silly little trivia that only a true fan or intimate friend knew. I sat behind my computer until my eyes were blurry, soaking up every bit of Hudson Pierce enlightenment I could find, because I couldn’t not do it.
If I was obsessing, I didn’t care. Hudson drew me to him with magnetic force. And while I knew that my behavior could only be allowed as a one-time lapse, I relished the high of fixating on the man who had already clearly stated he would never be mine.
I fiddled with the beads on the bodice of my purplish gray Valentino dress as the limousine pulled up to the Manhattan Center at a quarter to one the next day. I was nervous, yes, but also, I felt confined in the corset I wore underneath my dress as a surprise for Hudson—the one he’d chastised me for wearing in public.
“Stop fidgeting,” he said. “You’re beautiful.”
I took a deep breath as Jordan opened the limo door. Hudson was closest to the curb, and began to step out when I stopped him. “Wait.”
He raised a cautious brow. “Another request for a sex-free afternoon?”
I blushed. “No. I’ve given up on that.”
He smirked, not at all bothering to hide his pleasure in my declaration.
“Anyway…” I peeked up at him under my heavily mascaraed lashes. “I just wanted to say…you look hot.” And whoa, did he. The charity fashion show called for semi-formal attire, and Hudson rocked the look wearing a fitted John Varvatos gray suit with a muted purple dress shirt that coordinated perfectly with my outfit. He’d decided to go sans tie, leaving the top buttons undone, exposing only enough skin to drive me crazy. “Really hot.”
He eyed me for a moment then shook his head before stepping out of the car. He reached back to help me out, his face still plagued with a curious expression.
“What?” I asked, wondering if I’d said something wrong.
“Alayna,” he sighed. “There’s so many things I want to do to you right now. But we’re on-duty, and so I’ll have to settle for this.” He pulled me in for a kiss that, while not chaste, felt restrained, lacking the usual passion he poured into his kisses. This kiss was for the onlookers, the handful of photographers that surrounded the doors of the Hammerstein Ballroom.
When he broke our embrace, he took my hand, his fingers lightly crossing the rubber band I wore at my wrist. “What’s this?” he asked as he led me inside the double doors of the venue.
“It’s to remind me to buy coffee,” I lied. Actually, I’d worn it to remind me to not think about him. I’d learned the technique in counseling. Whenever an unwelcome or unhealthy thought entered my head I was supposed to snap it and the sting would help curb the behavior.
Yeah, right. Like the snap of an elastic band could stop the thoughts that Hudson elicited—thoughts of us together, naked, all night long. And those weren’t even the thoughts that worried me. Fantasies that we could be together beyond our little sham, beyond the bedroom—those were the ones that worried me, and I hadn’t had them. Yet. But after my Internet adventure earlier that morning, I felt the need for a safety net. The elastic band was all I could come up with.
“You must really need to buy coffee.”
“You haven’t seen me go….” My words trailed off when I recognized more than a few of the people chatting in the lobby as celebrities. I don’t know why it surprised me. The Pierce Annual Autism Awareness Fashion Show was a huge event and always drew the rich and famous. Really, I hadn’t thought about it.
Hudson grinned at my stunned expression as he guided me past the ushers—the ushers who didn’t even ask him for a ticket like the couple next to us who, I’m pretty sure, were the mayor and his wife. Um, yeah, Hudson was a lot cooler than I had comprehended.
We passed the bar and walked into the main doors of the ballroom. “If you’d like a drink, you can get something inside. My mother will be anxious to meet you.” We stopped near the doorway, Hudson scanning the room.
I took in our surroundings. The place was extravagant—an old century opera house that had been infused with modern technology. The central focus was the runway, which extended from a low stage. A complex lighting system that seemed more appropriate for a rock concert than a fashion show hung above. Chairs lined the runway on both sides, and, beyond that, white clothed tables circled the room. Three levels of ornate balconie
s climbed the walls to the seventy-plus foot ceilings.
“Hudson! Laynie!” I turned to the sound of the familiar voice and saw Mira moving toward us as quickly as her round belly would allow. “Wow, you look incredible!” she said to me. “This dress looks so great paired with those shoes. And Huds matches you! How sweet!”
Hudson’s arm tightened at my waist, the only indication he gave that his sister annoyed him. “You aren’t the only one in the family who has fashion sense, Mirabelle.”
“Of course not. Chandler’s also very savvy. You, though, are generally too stiff to be considered anything at all creative.”
“Ouch.” But he grinned. Hudson was nothing if not proud of who he was.
Mira smiled, too. Then, her face tensed abruptly. “Excuse me, I know this is totally rude, but…” She pulled her brother’s ear down to her mouth to whisper something I couldn’t hear.
Hudson’s jaw stiffened. He straightened, pulling away from Mira. “She knows about Alayna.”
Mira nodded her head toward me. “Does she know about…?” She trailed off.
“She does.” His words relaxed Mira, if only slightly.
I wanted to remain unaffected, but I knew my puzzlement read all over my face. They were talking about me and someone else, and I apparently knew about something or someone, which, of course, I doubted because Hudson never told me anything about anyone. My curiosity won out. “What?”
Mira looked to Hudson as if asking permission to fill me in. He remained expressionless. She took that as a go ahead. “Celia’s here.” Her mouth twitched. “I didn’t know if that would be a problem.”
Celia Werner. He’d said I knew about her, but I really didn’t. I knew his family wanted them to marry. I knew her family owned majority stocks in television and media. I knew she was pretty. Very pretty. And she adored the man who currently rubbed his thumb back and forth across the back of my hand. The man who did not currently adore her. Or me, for that matter.
If my hand had been free, I would have snapped the elastic band. That had not been a healthy thought.
I swallowed then put on a cheerful smile. “No, Celia’s no problem. Right, H?”
He grimaced at the nickname. “None at all.”
“Where is she?” If the bitch was on the premises, I figured I’d better face her head on.
“There.” Mira pointed discreetly.
I followed her gesture. There she was, the woman from the pictures, wearing a red, one-shoulder crinkle dress that accentuated her model thin figure.
“You look better than her,” Mira said. I didn’t, but I appreciated the comment. I didn’t look better than her at all.
Snap. Another unhealthy thought.
“Mirabelle, must you be so catty?” Hudson squeezed my hand. “Anyway, Alayna looks better than most people.”
I kissed him. Not only because it seemed a good time for a girlfriend to reward her boyfriend for a compliment, but because I wanted to. I wanted to remind myself that no matter what Hudson and I did or didn’t have together, I was the one kissing him—I was the one convincing people that he shouldn’t be with her.
He kissed me back in that reserved way of his that I had learned was for the public, his tongue sliding barely inside my lips.
“Oh, hell, no. Huds making out is not something I want to see,” an unfamiliar voice interrupted our embrace. Hudson stepped aside revealing a blonde haired, blue eyed teenage boy wearing a suit jacket over a t-shirt and jeans. “But, wow.” The boy scanned me up and down with a lusty stare. “Anytime you feel like moving up the social ladder, you can lay those lips on me.”
“Chandler,” Mira scolded. “Be polite.”
Chandler. The youngest Pierce sibling. I’d read some gossip blogs that speculated the reason for the large gap between Mira and Chandler was because the three children didn’t share the same father. Indeed, staring at Chandler now, I saw very little resemblance to his older siblings.
“Alayna’s nine years your senior,” Hudson said, a stern look on his face.
“I’ll be eighteen next month.” Chandler’s eyes remained pinned on me.
I’d never told Hudson I was twenty-six. I shouldn’t have been shocked that he knew—the man who had uncovered my restraining order had obviously done his research on me, too. Well, we were on equal ground now. As if there was equal ground with Hudson.
Hudson facilitated a half-hearted introduction. “Alayna, this is our brother, Chandler.” Hudson smacked his brother on the shoulder in a gesture that almost appeared playful. “Chandler, stop undressing Alayna with your eyes. That’s inappropriate.”
Chandler crossed his arms with a look of challenge and superiority that could only be delivered by a teenager. “Because we’re in public or because she came with you?”
“Because that’s not how you treat women.” Hudson’s tone was clipped but even.
“And you’re who’s going to teach me how to treat women?” He stared at his elder brother, an unspoken conversation passing between them in those few seconds. And then Chandler dropped it. “Mom sent me to summon you. She wants to meet your arm candy.” He turned on his heels, peeking once nonchalantly to see if we were following him.
Mira followed, grabbing him at the elbow to whisper in his ear. Correcting his impudence, I suspected.
Hudson sighed. “Ignore him. He’s a horny teenager.”
“He takes after his horny older brother,” I whispered.
“Behave.” He took my hand in his. I shuddered at his commanding tone and the feel of his skin against mine.
We followed the younger Pierce siblings across the ballroom, weaving around tables and the increasing crowd of people until we approached one of the tables closest to the stage.
“This is our table,” Chandler said. He gestured with his chin to a group of people talking a few feet away. “Mom’s over there.”
I stared at the back of the woman I knew to be Sophia Walden Pierce from Internet pictures. Her dark blonde hair was swept up in a tight bun showing off her long graceful neck. Even from behind, it was evident that Hudson’s mother was a beautiful, commanding woman.
As if she sensed our presence, she peered over her shoulder at us, offering a smile to her acquaintances as she did so.
A wave of unexplainable nervous energy rolled through me. What if she didn’t buy our act? What if I screwed it all up?
Hudson must have sensed my anxiety because he tightened his grip on my hand and leaned in to whisper, “You’re going to be great. I have no doubt.” He kissed my hair.
His distraction worked. I was no longer worrying about impressing his mother, focused now on wondering whether his tender kiss had been for me or for anyone who might be watching us.
And why did it even matter? We weren’t a couple, this was pretend. Tender kisses were romantic and we were not involved romantically. Sexually, yes. Romantically, no. I visualized another snap of the elastic band. Obviously I hadn’t counted on holding Hudson’s hand all day when I’d put the dang thing around my wrist.
By the time I’d thoroughly reminded myself that everything Hudson did was pretend, Sophia had wrapped up her conversation and approached us. As I had suspected, she was quite beautiful. Her body was lean and trim, and her complexion perfect. She’d had Botox, her forehead smooth and unexpressive. Or else she wasn’t an expressive person, which was highly possible considering she was related to Mr. Show-No-Real-Emotion at my side.
“Hudson.” The slight nod of her head matched the stiffness of her greeting.
Hudson responded in kind. “Mother.” Her eyes flickered to me briefly. “I’d like you to meet Alayna Withers. Alayna, this is my mother, Sophia Pierce.”
“Glad to meet you, uh…” I suddenly didn’t know what to call her—Sophia? Mrs. Pierce? If I had inflected my voice differently, I could have ended at “Glad to meet you” but I’d left the sentence hanging and I had to finish. I settled on the safe bet. “Mrs. Pierce.” I let go of Hudson’s hand and thrust mine
out to shake hers, hoping my palm wasn’t noticeably sweaty.
My worry was unfounded. Sophia Pierce made no effort to take my hand. Instead she scrutinized me with narrowed eyes, circling around me like a hawk. “She’s pretty enough.”
I lowered my hand to my side and made a conscious effort to close my jaw.
Before I could decide if I was supposed to say thank you, she’d moved on. “Where did you find her again?”
I was flabbergasted. She spoke about me like I wasn’t there—like I was a puppy Hudson had found on the side of the road.
Mira tried to save me. “Mom—”
Sophia waved her away, and I caught Mira’s unspoken apology in her eyes.
I looked to Hudson, but his gaze was locked on his mother’s. “I told you. We met at a function at Stern.”
Sophia chortled. “What the hell were you doing at NYU? Slumming?”
I flushed with anger, my hands balled into fists at my side.
Hudson stiffened as well. “Mother, don’t be a bitch.”
Chandler smirked openly at his brother’s choice of words.
Sophia, on the other hand, made no indication that she even heard. “Tell me, Alayna—were you first attracted to my son because of his money or his name?”
Pissed didn’t even begin to describe how I felt. I was seething, but still in control. Without skipping a beat, I wrapped my arm around Hudson’s and answered. “Neither. I was attracted to him because he’s hot. Though, I stayed with him because he’s fucking awesome in bed.”
Sophia’s mouth fell open. I had a feeling she was a woman that was rarely thrown off guard and seeing her taken aback gave me a thrill.
Hudson raised a brow, but he didn’t appear displeased. In fact, the gleam in his eyes seemed amused. It empowered me to continue. “Look, Sophia Pierce. I may not have graduated from Harvard like your son and your husband—” Admittedly, I paused to note Hudson’s reaction to the fact that I knew details about his family even though he hadn’t told me a single thing. Again, I saw the gleam. “But I’m proud of my NYU degree. And I didn’t come here today to have my education insulted by a woman who dropped out of law school.”
Complete Fixed: The Complete Fixed Series: Books 1-5 Page 12
