Laurelin Paige - Hudson

“But the arrest isn’t the big thing.” Celia brings me back from my thoughts with an enthusiasm that threatens to be contagious. “The cause of it is. She has a mental health history.”

I turn once more to the papers in my lap and settle on the last section of documents. They consist of doctors’ records, outpatient reports, a certificate of rehabilitation completion. It only takes a few minutes for me to puzzle out her history. Alayna Withers has a compulsive disorder most likely aggravated by the death of both her parents at a young age. She specifically targets her obsessive tendencies on men and relationships, leading to socially abnormal behavior such as stalking, vandalism, and disorderly conduct. According to her rehab report, she’s been recovered for the past two years—a similar timeline to my own.

There’s a part of me that’s appalled by this information. The woman that stood in front of us at Stern was not fragile. She was confident and put together and in control. But I remember that strong sense that there was something more underneath her façade. I realize now that I had so easily recognized it because her carriage was so familiar. Strong on the outside, battling demons on the inside—she was, in so many ways, like me.

I close my eyes and massage the bridge of my nose. Is that the nature of my attraction? A kinship with this woman? I don’t believe it’s that simple, but, with this new information, I am beyond fascinated with her. I’ve often questioned if there was any recovery for someone like me. Can I really get better? Do I have any hope for a full and healthy life?

Celia was right. I want to experiment with this one more than any other she’s tempted me with in the last two years. Our objectives, though, are in opposition. I can easily guess the nature of Celia’s planned game. She wants to see if she can cause the subject to break again. See if Alayna will return to her past behaviors when pushed.

I, on the other hand, do not want to see Alayna Withers break. I want to see her survive. Because if she can, then maybe so can I.

I’m decided now. I won’t let Alayna out of my sight. I will pursue her. I will study her. I will not play her.

And so it’s time to make sure Celia doesn’t either.

I shut the folder, stand, and hand it back to Celia. “This is not a game we’re playing.” My tone informs her that this is a closed subject.

Celia stands with a sigh. “That’s too bad. I had a great scenario. We’d pretend that our parents want us to marry—best lies are closest to the truth, as you always say.” In this case, it is the truth. “Your mother believes you’ll never love anyone so you best marry me. You hire Alayna to be your girlfriend. To convince your parents to leave your romantic life alone. With all the pretending, the girl will fall for you. The scheme will end and we see what happens. Intriguing, no?”

I shake my head. “We’re not playing.”

“It would give you an excuse to get close to her. Don’t deny that you want to. I can read you too, Hudson.”

Without looking at her, I motion to the exit. “We’re done here, Celia.”

She sets her water bottle on the coffee table and starts for the door. “You’re done, Hudson,” she says as she crosses the room. “I’m not. I can play her without you.” She turns back to face me. “But be assured, I will play her.”

“Not this one, Celia. Find another play.” I’m admitting too much interest in Alayna. It can’t be helped.

“Yes, this one. The game’s already in motion.”

Panic grips me. Of course, I don’t show it, except for maybe in the tightening of my jaw. “What have you done?”

She’s triumphant, but she hides it as well as I hide my emotions. I only see it in the slight widening of her eyes. “I made an offer on the club.”

I’m immediately put at ease. “There’s been no time. The owner can’t have accepted already.” I don’t tell her that I’ll counter.

Celia lifts her chin to deliver her next words. “I told him my offer was good for an hour. He’s had no bites in the year that he’s had it up for sale. He accepted on the spot.”

Fuck!

How did I not see this a mile away? I’ve grown rusty in my time gone while Celia’s grown more calculating. She correctly assumed my weakness in this situation and secured her capital in advance of her approach. Fucking brilliant.

I don’t even consider that she’s lying. She knows I’ll check on her declaration the moment she’s left and she wouldn’t risk that bluff. Besides, our code has taught us to be honest whenever possible. Practically, it helps keep your lies straight. Also, it makes the games more challenging.

I’m not sure how to move next—that’s a rarity for me. I stall for time with a question that might provide me some insight. “Why?” I tilt my head, examining her. “Why do you care if it’s this girl or the next?”

“Because you care if it’s this girl.” It’s not said with spite. It’s honest. It’s raw.

I want to hate her in that moment. I want to loathe the way she’s trapped me, the way she’s baited me. The way she’s already destroyed something that interests me like the child on the playground that stomps on the butterfly simply because another child has given it his attention. It’s mean.

But I can’t hate her. She doesn’t intend to be vicious. I’m the one who schooled her to look for vulnerabilities and manipulate them to be advantageous. She knows no other way to connect.

Frankly, I don’t know any other way myself. There is a longing for that deep within me. Dr. Alberts hasn’t even begun to scrape the surface of that desire, but it is the one thing that keeps me from being completely sociopathic. I don’t care for people, but I want to.

That’s all Celia wants as well. “If you agree to play, I’ll let you buy my offer out.” She blinks. “Simple as that.”

With her checkmate, the ball is in my court. I could still walk away. But Celia will play Alayna Withers. It’s not a question in my mind. She’s never backed down from a scheme once she’s started it.

Then why should I care? I’ve let Celia play others since I’ve left our partnership, Stacy being the most recent example. I never made a move to stop that. Why should I now?

But I’ve already answered that. Because I’m intrigued. I’m bewitched. I’m beguiled. I am obsessed. Maybe this is the best chance to get close to Alayna. And even if I played the game, I wouldn’t have to work toward Celia’s outcome. I could work toward my own—to not break Alayna. It’s the biggest of excuses, but there’s nothing in the code about lying to ourselves.

There are other ways to fight Celia, I know. If I really tried, I could come up with another way to thwart her plans.

Knowing that is why I am completely culpable when I surrender so easily. There will be no battle. I will not counter Celia’s sly move. I will not attempt to dissuade her from her game. I will not make another appointment with Dr. Alberts. I will not fight.

“How much is your offer on The Sky Launch?”

With a smirk, she gives me the information.

I square my shoulders. If I’m going down, I’ll at least do it with pride. “I’ll have my financial advisor draw up the check.”

“Game on, then?”

My agenda is without point now. Even if Alayna Withers teaches me that people like us can survive, with this step, I’ve already proven that I can’t.

I seal my entrance to hell with my assent. “Game on.”

Before

“…and if Sherry doesn’t tell him that she likes him, then he’s going to end up with Marisa. Which is just wrong. Lance should be with Sherry. Don’t you think?” Mirabelle poked my bare thigh with her toe. “Are you listening to me, Hudson?”