The Fixed Trilogy

by Laurelin Paige

  “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?

  Which led to the question, what about the video made Hudson want it destroyed? That was a big one, the reason I’d ended up pursuing getting a copy for myself.

  And then there was Stacy’s comment about Hudson wooing people. She’d said it as if he had wooed her. Hudson had sworn they’d only had the one date. It was this detail that intrigued me the most. Because even if all the video ended up being was proof that his relationship with Stacy had been one of his scams, he’d at the very least lied to me about the extent of his interaction with her. That pardoned me from whatever trust of his I was about to break, didn’t it?

  I hadn’t promised I wouldn’t see the video, I reasoned. I’d told him I didn’t have to. Well, things had changed. And now I did have to. No promise broken, simply a new set of circumstances.

  That’s what I convinced myself, anyway.

  At the penthouse, I was out of the car before Jordan could open my door. “Remember to set the alarm,” he called after me. That was the arrangement. When I was at the penthouse alone, Jordan or Reynold would wait outside until I’d set the security system. Then they’d get an automatic text showing a secured status and they’d leave. At the moment, Celia was the least of my concerns, but in general, it was nice knowing that even though I was protected, I still had some semblance of privacy.

  Once inside, I set the alarm, ran to the library to get my laptop, and settled in on the couch. I muttered to myself as my email seemed to take longer than usual to load, and then held my breath while I scanned my inbox.

  There it was. My only unread message. From StacySBrighton.

  I clicked the email open.

  There was a short paragraph above the video attachment. Eager as I was, I began the download then returned to read it.

  Alayna,

  As I said, I’m done with this now. Take or leave this information as you wish. In case you want to know the circumstances of the footage, I’ll tell you this: Hudson had asked me to meet him for coffee. I’d shown up and found him like this. I shot them with my phone before he saw me. Later, I transferred it to my computer and I got a new phone, which was why I couldn’t send it to you that way.

  Anyway. Here it is.

  Stacy

  At least she’d answered one of my questions. But Hudson asking to meet her for coffee? More and more I was sure what I was going to find—Hudson playing a game on his sister’s assistant. It was heartbreaking. For Hudson, for Stacy…and what about Mira? I wondered what she knew about it all.

  My computer popped up with a message that my download was complete. My hand paused above my keyboard as, for half a second, I considered not watching. Once I saw it, I could never un-see it. What if it was something that embarrassed him? Was it fair that I see the worst of him? What if Hudson had learned my deepest darkest mistakes? How would that make me feel?

  But he already had learned them. He’d gone behind my back before he’d ever really spoken to me, read my police record, done his own research. And in the end, he was still with me. How was this any different?

  I wouldn’t know until I saw it.

  My finger clicked the file open. I enlarged the picture to full-screen. Then I sat back and watched.

  The video swept across a building as it moved to focus on its subjects. Then it settled on the back of a head. It didn’t matter that I only could see hair and shoulders—I knew that hair. Knew the color and the texture by heart. I even knew that suit jacket. A dark blue Ralph Lauren. Not one of my favorites but definitely familiar.

  Hudson’s head swiveled slightly one way then the other. He was kissing someone—making out with her. His body completely hid the other person. All I could see of the woman were her small hands wrapped around his neck.

  Jealousy wracked my body. I couldn’t help it. Sure, it was before I knew him, but this was my man, my love, kissing someone else. If Stacy had come to meet him, thinking they were about to go on a date—well, that explained why she’d been upset.

  Then the kiss ended. And for a moment I was thrilled.

  But he moved away, and there she was—her face flushed, her lips plump from the kiss, her blonde hair wrapped tightly into the chignon that was typical of her style.

  I felt the blood drain from my face. Hudson and Celia. I’d thought about the possibility before, but seeing it for real was much worse than I could have ever imagined. So much worse.

  The video kept on. Celia reached out to straighten Hudson’s tie. He shooed her away, turning more fully to the camera. Now I could focus on his face. His expression made my gut wrench—he was smiling, laughing almost. Something he’d done so rarely before he’d met me. At least, that’s what I’d come to believe about him. It was that happy, carefree expression that made it impossible for me to excuse the kiss as being one-sided. They’d both been into it.

  Then, when she started to walk away, he pulled her back into another kiss. Slower, sweeter.

  The video ended there.

  Thankfully. Because any more and I was going to throw up. Except that didn’t stop me from pushing play again.

  I pulled my legs up to my chest as I watched this time. Each second of their kiss, my chest tightened in anguish. It would have been cliché to say my heart was breaking. As if it could actually tear apart from emoti
onal pain and still allow a person to live. How trite.

  Besides, it didn’t feel like that. It felt like a vise-grip. Constricting. Like someone had taken the organ from my chest and squeezed.

  All the times I’d asked, all the times he’d denied...

  But if it had been a scam, a scam on Stacy—my hopes lifted for a moment as I reasoned that scenario. Maybe the kiss wasn’t real. Maybe it had all been Celia and Hudson playing a game together. He’d never said he’d involved Celia in his charades, but knowing that she was also a player, wasn’t it a good possibility?

  It was marginally better. They’d still been kissing, but it meant he hadn’t lied to me about their relationship. It meant they’d never truly been together.

  It took the third time viewing the video before I realized the flaw in that theory. When I’d seen it enough to be able to catch the details and not just be focused on the kiss. Hudson had said his scheming had been over for some time before he met me. That he’d been in therapy and had been on the wagon, so to say.

  But the sign on the building behind them—it was for the Stern Symposium. That had been the night of my presentation. The night Hudson saw me for the first time. The night he said he knew that I was special.

  The night that began everything for me and Hudson, he’d been kissing Celia Werner.

  Either he was still scheming when he met me or he’d been dating her. Either way, he’d lied.

  Having an alcoholic parent, I’d chosen to never use liquor to settle my emotions. My addictions were of a totally different nature. But the emotions boiling inside of me needed something stronger. I went to the library bar and reached for a shot glass and a bottle of tequila.

  ***

  “Here you are.”

  When Hudson found me almost an hour later, I was outside on the balcony, looking out over the railing. I’d intended to be shit-faced by the time he got home, but had only managed four shots. For me that was enough to make me impaired.

  But it hadn’t been enough to stop the throbbing ache in my chest.

  I glanced at him over my shoulder. I’d prepared several speeches, but at the sight of him, they all left me. “I didn’t realize you were home.”

  I turned back to the view. It was far less devastating than looking at the man who’d betrayed me.

  “I am.” In my periphery, I saw him move up beside me. “You don’t come out here very often.”

  I shrugged. “It scares me.” I was cold to him—my tone, my entire demeanor. There was no way he missed it.

  Tentatively, he attempted to figure it out. “You’re afraid of heights?”

  “Not really. It’s falling that scares me.” I gave a small laugh as I realized the relation of the fear to the feeling I was experiencing at the moment. “It’s actually thrilling to be out here. Being so high up, feeling so untouchable, the wind rushing at you from below. I can see why so many people are intrigued by the idea of flying. Problem is, no matter how good the flight, you always have to come back down eventually. And lots of times, that return is a free fall.”

  “You’re waxing poetic tonight.” His frown was apparent in his voice.

  “Am I?” I gathered up my strength and turned to look at him. “I suppose so.”

  Hudson smiled and took a step in my direction, his arms reaching for me.

  I stepped away, or more like stumbled away.

  He grabbed my arm to catch me. My eyes latched on to where his hand grasped. It felt like my skin was burning under his touch, and not in the amazing way that it usually burned, but in a way that left me wondering if I’d be scarred for life. Hell, he’d touched me everywhere in our time together—would all of my body be scarred?

  At least my outside would match my inside.

  Hudson leaned in to help me steady. He smelled it then, how could he not? “Have you been drinking?”

  I pulled my arm away. “Is that a problem?”

  “Of course not. You just don’t usually drink. You’re full of all sorts of surprises this evening.”

  “Ah. Surprises. It’s certainly a day for that.”

  “Have there been others?”

  “There have.” I brushed past him to get inside. I was done with the small talk. There were things to be said, and saying them outside wasn’t my preference.

  He followed me in.

  I waited until I heard the door shut behind me before I turned to face him. I’d planned to hit him straight up with the news that I’d seen his video. But those weren’t the words that came out. “Hudson, why don’t you ever tell me that you love me?”

  “Where did that come from?” He looked like I’d slapped him. Considering that I wanted to, it was a pleasing outcome.

  However, it wasn’t the response I wanted. Not in the least. And I had enough liquor in my system to keep me pursuing the answer I wanted. “It’s a valid question.”

  “Is it? My methods of emotional expression haven’t seemed to bother you before—why now?”

  “Hasn’t bothered me?” I was incredulous. Did he really not know how desperate I was to hear it? “It’s always bothered me. I’ve been patient, that’s all. Letting you settle into our relationship. I realize it’s all new for you—you’ve never let me forget it. But it’s new for me too. I’ve bared all my heart to you. And you can’t give me this one thing—three things, actually. Three little words.”

  “You know how I feel about you.” He turned away from me and headed toward the dining room bar.

  It was my turn to chase after him. “But why can’t you say it?”

  “Why do I need to?” He poured himself a Scotch. “If you understand, there’s no point.”

  “Sometimes it helps to hear it.”

  “Helps what?”

  He was so controlled, so even-mannered—it drove me insane. I raised my voice. “Helps everything! Helps deal with insecurity. With doubts.”

  He set the bottle on the counter and pivoted toward me. “What are you doubting? Us? What we have? I asked you to live with me. I changed my entire life to be with you. What is there to doubt?”

  “Your reasons. Your motives.”

  “My reasons for wanting you with me are I want you with me. What more do you need to know? You want words? They can be changed and manipulated and misconstrued. But my actions—they speak everything that you need to know.”

  His words were calm and soothing and, at another time, would have melted me. There were many actions he’d shown that backed up what he was saying. Too many to do an inventory of in the space of a few seconds.

  But there were other actions—the ones that were ambiguous and hard-to-interpret. Lunch meetings with Norma Anders. Purchasing the club for me before he’d even known me. And there was the video.

  I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly cold. “If I’m going by your actions, then right now what I know is that I’ve been lied to.”

  He took a swallow of his drink, his jaw moving the liquid around his mouth before he swallowed. “What are you talking about?”

  I straightened my back for the moment of confrontation. “I saw it, Hudson. I saw the video.”

  “What vid—”

  I punched my fist onto the dining room table. “Don’t even fucking pretend you don’t know what video I’m referring to, because after everything we’ve been through, I don’t deserve the runaround.”

  His eyes were locked on mine, so I saw the brief flare of panic.

  And then I saw the moment he resumed control.

  “Okay. I won’t run you around then.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Where did you get it? Stacy?”

  Where did I get it? “Does it matter?”

  “I suppose not.” His tone was straight.

  My gut clenched. I’d expected immediate denial or reassurance that it wasn’t what it looked like. I’d expected answers. Not this. Not complete indifference.

  “You were kissing Celia.”

  “I saw.”

  “Do you want to explain
?”

  “Does it matter?” He threw back my own words at me.

  “Yes!” My composure was gone. Only he could fix me and he wasn’t even trying.

  He moved back to the bar and refilled his drink. “It was before I met you, Alayna. I haven’t asked you to explain your actions before we met. I shouldn’t be expected to either.”

  I gaped for a moment while he threw back his liquor. Of all the responses I’d imagined he’d give, downplaying wasn’t one of them.

  “But this is different,” I finally managed. “Because you’ve already offered an explanation. You said there was never anything between you and Celia.”

  “There wasn’t.”

  “I’m supposed to believe that after seeing what I saw?”

  “Looks can be deceiving.” His voice was a low rumble. The only indicator of emotion since I’d brought up the video.

  It incited me. “That’s all you got?”

  “You’ve told me there’s nothing between you and David, yet there’s been many a time that it has looked like there was.”

  “It only looked that way because you were paranoid and jealous. You never saw me lip-locked with him. Believe me, seeing it is worse than you can imagine.”

  He placed his fingertips on the back of a chair and leaned toward me. “I’m sure if I went and looked at old security tapes I might see exactly that.”

  His words were cold and harsh and spiteful. It was times like these that Hudson’s gift to manipulate showed itself. It was frustrating and unfair how he could mold a situation to his favor, but I understood that it was a part of him. He wasn’t trying to play me.

  Knowing that didn’t make it any easier to deal with. “Yes. Once upon a time I was with David. I’ve told you that.”

  “After you let it slip and I figured it out.”

  “Jesus! Will I always have to pay for that mistake?” He didn’t answer, but I didn’t give him time. “Okay, I wasn’t forthcoming. I kept things from you. But only because I didn’t want to hurt you, and I admitted it when you confronted me. But this—you outright lied about this, Hudson. You told me there was nothing to see on Stacy’s video. You told me I didn’t need to go looking.”