Chapter Ten
Mirabelle owned one of the hottest boutiques in New York City. Despite never needing to work a day in her life, the middle Pierce child had an eye for clothing design and she put it to good use. Her shop was by appointment only, and I’d nearly lost myself in fashionista heaven when Hudson had taken me to purchase racks of clothing almost two weeks before.
After directing Jordan to Greenwich Village where Mira’s was located, Hudson pulled out his phone and called his sister. I listened half-heartedly to their short conversation. “Thanks, we’re on our way,” he said before hanging up.
“She won’t be there,” he said to me as he pocketed his phone. “She’s getting ready for the party. But Stacy will take care of you.”
I groaned inwardly at the thought of dealing with Stacy, Mira’s too-thin blonde assistant. She had a thing for Hudson, had even gone out with him on at least one occasion. Needless to say, she wasn’t fond of me. The daggers she shot with her eyes were poisonous enough to kill an army.
Plus, she made me jealous. Mira insisted that Stacy wasn’t even a blip on Hudson’s radar. But one night, when I’d cyber-stalked him, I’d seen a picture of Hudson and Stacy together. They looked good. And I bet she didn’t have a history of crazy like I did.
If I could avoid seeing Stacy, I’d be a much happier person. “If Mira’s not going to be there, maybe we shouldn’t bother with the boutique. We could go back to my place and get something that we bought last time.”
“No, we need something new. I’ll want to show you off.”
I wasn’t sure if that made me happy or irritated. On the one hand, he liked the way I looked enough to feel like he could parade me. On the other hand, was that all I was? A show pony? Was this left over from our convince-everyone-we’re-together scheme?
It was likely none of the above, simply a complimentary statement from a man to his woman. My emotions were still too muddled from the last fifteen minutes—from the last twenty-four hours—and now everything had a twinge of heaviness. It didn’t seem like I could simply take anything at face value. There were layers to every gesture, every comment, every moment, and I was having a hard time getting my head around it all.
The nearly forty-five minute drive from Uptown to the Village didn’t help. I cuddled into Hudson and closed my eyes trying to nap, unsuccessfully. When Jordan finally pulled up in front of the boutique, it felt like a lifetime had passed.
Hudson didn’t wait for our driver to open the door. He climbed out and extended his hand. He continued to hold my hand as we walked to the shop, and I couldn’t help but remember the last time we’d been there, how he’d held my hand then. How it had been pretend then and this time was real. It was real, wasn’t it?
As if he could read my mind, Hudson squeezed my hand as we waited for Stacy to answer the bell. I turned to him and his lip curled into a half-smile.
It occurred to me that I’d seen him smile more in the last twenty-four hours than I had the entire three weeks I’d known him. Yeah, this was real.
Behind him, I saw construction workers at the shop next door, clearing up for the day.
“I wonder what’s going on over there.”
Hudson followed my glance. “Mirabelle’s expanding. I believe they’ve almost finished. We’ll come to the open house. She’ll want you there.”
“Wow. More clothes for me to choose from. Can your wallet handle it?” It was hilarious considering his bank account could clothe a small country. A large one, even.
We were both laughing when the door opened. Stacy barely glanced at us as she stood aside to let us in. “I have a client I’m finishing up with, but I already picked out some options for you. They’re in the big dressing room.”
So much for hellos.
She returned to her customer, and I glanced at Hudson to gauge his reaction to the lack of greeting. His face was stone. Whatever he thought about Stacy, he didn’t show it. Perhaps she really did mean absolutely nothing to him. But if that was the case, why had he ever gone out with her to begin with? Even if it was only the one date, wouldn’t he have had at least an ounce of attraction to her?
After my mini-tantrum in the limo, it didn’t seem like such a good time to bring up his relationship with Stacy, if it even qualified to be called that. But I made a mental note to ask about it in the future. And not just about Stacy, but about all of Hudson’s past women. Because I needed to know.
As she had said, Stacy had left several dresses in the dressing room, and despite my fear that she’d spitefully only pick hideous items for me to try on, they most definitely were anything but. Not that Mirabelle’s even had anything remotely ugly on its racks. These dresses, though, were particularly exquisite. With all her scowling about, Stacy must have paid attention to what I chose the last time I’d been there, noticed what looked good on me, because these seemed almost tailor-made to my style. My eyes widened at the selection, too many called my name, and I was eager to try them all on.
Hudson, on the other hand, immediately fixated on one specific dress—a magenta satin Jersey. It was pretty enough, but awfully simple and brighter in color than something I’d wear at a family function.
He fingered the convertible straps. “This one.” There was finality in his voice.
“I haven’t tried it on. You don’t even know how it—”
“I do know.” He took the dress by the hanger and, after turning me to face the mirror, held it in front of me as he stood behind. “It’s perfect.”
I looked in the mirror, trying to picture the dress on my body, but all I could think of was the last time I’d been in that dressing room with Hudson, standing in front of that very mirror. He’d done incredible things to my body then, made me watch as I came undone from the ministrations of his hands on my breasts and between my thighs. Then, he’d entered me and took me with such force and desire that I’d come undone again.
My face heated from the memory, and I met his eyes in our reflection.
Hudson leaned into whisper at my ear. “I know what you’re thinking. Stop it.” He unbuttoned his jacket and pressed up against me so I could feel the thick ridge of his hard-on against my rear. “I’m thinking about it, too. And we don’t have time to deal with those thoughts as I would like.”
“Are you sure?” I reached my hand behind me to fondle his erection.
He took a deep breath. “You’re certainly a different woman than the one I brought in here last time. The one who wanted to keep things sex-free.” His voice was tight, the only indication of what my half-assed hand-job was doing to him.
“I never wanted to keep things sex-free. I just thought it would be best for me if we did.” That was back when I thought for half a second that I had a chance of staying away from him. When I thought I might become obsessed with him if I didn’t keep my distance. When I didn’t realize how complete of a hold he already had on me.
He placed his hand over mine, controlling the pressure of my touch. “Is that still what would be best for you?”
Together, we stroked the length of his cock through his pants, and I longed to touch his bare skin, to slide my fingers across his crown, to pump him with my fist. He did this to me, completely turned me on, made me wet and interested in nothing but satisfying his need for me while he satisfied my need for him.
“You’re best for me.” My words were full of the ache I felt for him. “In every way—beside me, inside me…”
“F*ck, Alayna. You get me so hot, I—”
There was a single rap at the door followed by barely enough time for us to separate before Stacy walked in.
Her eyes flitted from my face to his then back to mine. “I should have waited for an invitation to come in.”
“Yes, you should have.” It was the first time I’d seen Hudson address Stacy in any way, and it was short and clipped. He turned to hang the dress back on the rack and buttoned his suit jacket before turning back to us. “I’ll step out while you change, Alayna.” He nodded back to the magenta dress. “That one.”
Stacy’s face was even, but her eyes flickered with the rejection. I almost felt sorry for her. I’d been her—dejected by men I thought I was into. Part of me wanted to reach out to comfort her.
But then the spite returned to her gaze. “Is that the dress you’d like to start with?” Her voice was cold as she took the magenta Jersey from the hanger without waiting for my response.
I reached behind and unzipped my clothing myself and let it fall to the floor. “Yes. It’s the one Hudson wants.” I used his name as a weapon, claiming him as mine. “He thinks it will be perfect.”
Actually, it was. I could tell as soon as the dress was over my head. The color lit up my skin, highlighting my natural olive tone. It was low-cut enough that it showed off my boobs, an asset I was proud of. Hudson had always been quite fond of my bosom, surely one of the reasons he’d chosen it. The length was short enough to show some leg, but the flowing shape would only hint at my curves rather than hug them like many of my dresses did, leaving more to the imagination. It was a different style for me and that might have been what had prevented me from the same vision Hudson had. But he knew my body well, better than I did.
“He’s right. It’s perfect for you.” I’d been so mesmerized by my reflection, Stacy’s voice startled me.
I turned to her and found her expression had softened. It occurred to me that she was comparing herself to me as much as I compared myself to Celia, that she was measuring her flaws against mine. It was enough to send a person into dark depression. At least, that’s what that kind of thinking could do to me. Again, I felt sorry for her. Or maybe it wasn’t pity, it was something else—solidarity, maybe.
Stacy reached up to adjust a strap. “He has good taste.”
Her tone suggested she wasn’t talking about the dress. It hinted at more. The connection I felt with her, odd though it may be, led me to prod. “But…?”
Her forehead creased. “But what?”
“I sense there was more to your statement.”
She looked away, busying herself with adjusting the breast cups of the dress. “It’s not my place.”
“Go ahead. Whatever you have to say, I can take it.” Did I sound too eager? What I was hoping to gain from the conversation, I couldn’t say. Maybe I was simply curious.
That was a lie. I was obsessed. No matter how “well” I was, no matter how healthy, I’d always be drawn to dig deeper, to find out as much as I could about the people I was attracted to. This was no different. Stacy had something to say regarding Hudson—something that might give me insight into the man I loved. I had to keep digging.
When she didn’t offer more, I nudged her. “I know you’ve dated Hudson before.”
She let out a sharp laugh. “Is that what he told you?”
I took a deep breath, hoping the words I chose to speak would keep her talking. “He hasn’t told me anything about you. I’ve seen a picture of the two of you together at an event or something.”
“Right.” She nodded as if she knew exactly what picture I was talking about. “I was his escort for the night. We never dated.”
“Escort?” My mind immediately went to hookers and high-priced call girls.
“Not that kind of escort. I never slept with him.”
A huge weight lifted off my chest at her admission. I knew Hudson had slept with other women. Of course he had, but I didn’t want to think about it. Because if I did, that’s all I’d think about—him and whomever, sharing the intimacies that he and I shared now. So knowing that Hudson and Stacy never had that—it was a relief.
With that worry abated, I could concentrate on the other thing niggling at the edge of my brain. If they hadn’t dated, if they hadn’t slept with each other, yet Stacy emanated such scorn—
Then I got it. “Oh. I think I understand.” She’d been one of his victims. One of the women whom he’d played—made her love him with whatever he said or did, then discarded her. It made me sick, and I hated that about me. I didn’t want to feel sick about the things Hudson had done. I wanted to love him enough to look past anything.
But I was human. And even though I did love him past anything, it wasn’t pleasant to focus on the things he’d done that had hurt people.
That thought was the one I clung to—if it made me feel this way to realize the brokenness of his past actions, then Hudson must ache inside, carrying the weight of these mistakes. I surely ached from the damage I’d inflicted on others—my strained relationship with my brother, how I’d hurt the men in my past. Paul…
I dismissed the name of my past lover and refocused on Stacy.
“Maybe you do understand,” she was saying. “And maybe Hudson’s changed. But I should warn you—”
“I don’t need to be warned.” It was absolutely schizo how I went back and forth from encouraging to defensive. I bit my lip and when I spoke again, I tried to assume the calm and inviting posture I had before. “I mean, he’s already told me everything.” I hope.
Giving voice to my fear, Stacy raised a brow and asked point blank, “Has he?” She let it sink in for a moment, letting me wonder.
She gathered the dress I’d been wearing off the floor. “Believe whatever. All I’m saying is he’s not what he says he is.” She hung it as she talked. “No matter what he tells you, it’s a lie.”
I’d been around this before: He tells me he won’t lie and if I believe that, then I can believe everything he says. But if that is in itself a lie… “But it’s not just what he said,” I thought out loud. “He’s shown me who he is. And Celia said—”
Stacy froze. “Celia Werner?”
I nodded.
Her face grew serious. “Don’t believe anything she says either. They’re together.”
“They’re friends.” I meant for my tone to be insistent, but it came out weak and, again, defensive.
“They’re together.” Her tone succeeded at insistent. “Or they were. I can prove it too, if—”
The door opened, cutting her off. Unlike Stacy, Hudson didn’t knock. He simply took his place in the world. I loved that about him.
“Gorgeous.” He wanted me and it showed in every part of him from his posture to the gleam in his eyes, to the thickness of his voice.
And everything Stacy and I had been talking about vanished from my mind. My knees went weak with desire, and whatever doubts I had disappeared. He was there fixed on me. How could I be anything but sure? Sure about him, about me. About us.
“Thank you.” I glowed; I could feel the warmth in every part of my body, reaching toward him. “It is gorgeous. You chose well.”
“I did. I chose you.”
How was I possibly still standing upright when it felt like every part of me had fallen into delight?
He saw what he did to me, his lips curving into a knowing smile. “She’ll wear it out.” His eyes never left me even though he spoke to Stacy.
Stacy.
Our conversation came rushing back to me, and the sweet feelings Hudson had brought became jaded. I should drop it, let myself stay lost in that happy, warm place.
But she’d said she could prove it…
“Hudson, I’ll be a minute. I need to freshen up my face.”
He nodded, and I realized he meant to wait while I reapplied my makeup. But I wanted him out of there, bad idea as it was.
I caught sight of the shoes that I’d worn earlier, sticking out from under the rack where I’d flung them. “Would you mind picking out some other shoes for me, H? Those ones don’t quite go.”
He followed my gaze to the discarded shoes. “No, they don’t. I saw some silver heels that would look stunning.”
Like me, Hudson had an appreciation for shoes. It was another one of the things I adored about him.
“Grab them for me?” I didn’t have to tell him I’d let him f*ck me in them later. He knew. He’d be the one to decide that anyway. He could dominate me all he wanted. Fine by me.
“Sure thing, baby.” He winked and I smiled at his endearment. He was so unused to any terms of affection that they all sounded strained and forced on his tongue. Except for when he called me precious. That one came out with complete sincerity.
He opened the door and left to hunt for shoes. Stacy began to follow him, but I reached out and grabbed her forearm.
“You said you could prove it.” I hoped my whisper wasn’t as shaky as it sounded to my own ears. Was I actually doing this? Giving in to my doubts about Celia and Hudson? This was not a healthy move. It could very well be the beginning of spiraling into a loss of control. Or maybe I’d already lost control, because against my better judgment, I couldn’t keep myself from asking. “Can you really?”
“Yes. Not here, but—”
“Give me your phone.”
She pulled her phone from her pocket, and I entered my number in before handing it back to her. “You can text me.” It was a bad idea—inviting doubts with whatever so-called evidence Stacy had to share.
But on the other hand, my mind could make up a pretty hefty dose of horrible things that Stacy might produce to prove a more-than-friends relationship between Celia and Hudson. The real proof was probably much less malignant.
At least, that’s what I kept telling myself.
***
We arrived at the restaurant a few minutes after eight. This time Hudson waited for Jordan to let us out of the limo, for appearances perhaps. I’d never been to this restaurant and knew nothing about it, hadn’t even caught the name. I only knew we were back Uptown. We rode the elevator hand-in-hand to the top floor in silence. I was quiet because I was nervous—nervous to interact with Sophia again, especially if she wasn’t aware I was crashing her birthday party.
I couldn’t say why Hudson was quiet. Perhaps he was nervous too.
“Mr. Pierce,” the host said, recognizing Hudson. “Your party is already seated. Right this way.”
We followed him into the restaurant toward windows that overlooked the city, the tree cover of Central Park the highlight of the view. The Pierce family was spread over two tables pressed together. I scanned the faces as the host set up an extra place setting for me, the unexpected guest. Chandler, Hudson’s teenage brother, and Sophia, her face expressionless. Next was Jack, Hudson’s father, a real charmer. It surprised me that he was sitting next to his wife since he openly detested her. Across from them were Mira and Adam.
That should have been everyone, but near me, their backs toward me so I hadn’t spotted them at first, were Warren and Madge Werner. And Celia.
I tensed, so many warring thoughts in my head, emotions so strong that they spread through my body. Hudson hadn’t invited me, hadn’t wanted me at this social function, but Celia had been on the guest list all along. Was that the true reason he hadn’t told me about Sophia’s birthday? Both of us had agreed not to see her. Yeah, I had gone back on that deal, but at least there wasn’t a chance that I was going to jump her. At least I hadn’t almost been engaged to the woman. Had he not invited me to this dinner because of that silly agreement, or was it because he wanted to be alone with her? Well, alone as in without me, anyway.
And Celia, whom I had confided in and bonded with just that afternoon, hadn’t mentioned the dinner either.
My eyes flew from the blonde to the man standing next to me. His face was even. This was why he’d been quiet. He knew I’d be upset.
I was.
I couldn’t take it. I had to bolt. Through gritted teeth, I hissed, “I thought you said this was family only.”
Then I turned and walked away.