The Fixed Trilogy: Fixed on You(37)
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 benefitted 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.