Текст книги "Hudson"

Автор книги: Laurelin Paige

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 18 (всего у книги 26 страниц)

It was pointless to dwell on it. There would never be an answer.

Likely, my parents would still have been fucked up even if he’d stayed for the whole honeymoon. And I would still be exactly like I was. Why was I complaining, anyway? It was my superpower, wasn’t it? Not feeling.

Lately, though, it didn’t seem like a superpower. It was more like a distraction. A constant whirring in my head that begged for explanation. Pushed me to examine and study and scheme. Drove me crazy. Or was I already crazy to begin with?

Wasn’t that the question of the century?

“Hudson?” Mirabelle’s soft call startled me out of my spiraling speculation. I didn’t answer, but she continued toward me anyway, climbing up the stairs and then leaning against the arch of the entry. “Here you are.”

“Here I am.” Though her demeanor was calmer than it had been, I wasn’t happy to have been found. It surely meant there’d be talking. Fuck, how I hated that. I couldn’t exactly send her away though. And it had been my actions that led to this. Consequences.

The light was out in the gazebo, and Mirabelle blocked the moon behind her, so I couldn’t make out the expression on her face. Was she still mad? Hurt? Or did she come to apologize?

Finally, she tucked a stray curl behind her ear and said, “Mother’s drunk.”

Huh. Not even focused on me, then. “Are you surprised?”

“No. I was hopeful, though. She’d had a good day.” Her tone was melancholy, and I knew if I could see her eyes, they’d be sad.

I didn’t understand sad. But I didn’t like it when Mirabelle was. I tried to be consoling. “Parties are the easiest time for her to drink without anyone noticing. Everyone’s drinking.”

“True.”

She stepped forward and sat on the bench next to me. That meant she was staying. It didn’t leave much chance of escaping more reprimand from the earlier incident.

“You should be with your guests.” I took a sip from the bottle of Scotch and tried to appear nonchalant about my suggestion to leave.

She wasn’t biting. “You’re my guest.”

“You have more important guests than me.”

“I don’t think so.” She mirrored my posture, looking out over the ocean. “Besides, we need to talk.”

I pretended not to know what topic she thought should be discussed. “If you need last-minute marriage advice, you know what I’ll say—don’t get married.”

“You’re an ass. And no. I’d never come to you for marriage advice. You’ll come to me, though. I’m calling that now.” She swung her foot in a rhythmic sway that seemed in time with the ocean waves.

“Uh-huh.” The hell I was ever getting married. Though marriage seemed more likely than falling in love. Telling that to Mirabelle would be another impossible conversation. Really, any way I looked at it, there was an uncomfortable discussion about to take place.

I decided to dive in and get it over with. “Look, we don’t need to talk about earlier. Lapse in judgment. That’s all.”

It was so quiet I could hear her swallow. “No. We don’t need to talk about earlier,” she agreed quietly, much to my surprise. “But there’s something else.”

Well, that had been easy. With her soft disposition and her somber mood, I had a pretty good guess at what she wanted to say instead. The typical, I love you, you’re a good brother even though you tried to drown me when I was seven and screw my bridesmaid at my wedding rehearsal, all the bullshit things that sweet, naïve sisters say to their siblings on the eve of superficially important occasions like their weddings.

But she stunned me again. “Hudson, I need to talk to you about an intervention.”

Really? Tonight? I’d wondered how long before someone tried to sober up our mother. I did not think it would happen in the middle of my sister’s wedding. “Shouldn’t Chandler and Dad be here? They have just as much effect on our mother as I ever would. If not more.”

“Not for Mother.” She stopped the swing of her feet. “For you.”

I laughed. “This probably seems unconvincing when I’m drinking straight from the bottle, but I’m not an alcoholic.” Sure, that was what all alcoholics said. Still, I’d never gotten drunk or sloppy. It was hardly believable that Mirabelle really thought I had a problem. I laughed again. Seriously? “Besides, aren’t there supposed to be lots of people at these things?”

“Well, they’re supposed to be formed of a group of people that the addict—that’s you—loves and will listen to. I happen to think that I’m the only one who could possibly say anything that matters. At least, I’m hoping that I can say anything that matters.” She was so solemn, so intense.

I sighed and tried to address her with equal earnestness. “I don’t have a drinking problem, Mirabelle.”

She chuckled politely. “I don’t think you have a drinking problem, Hudson. Get real.” Her somberness returned. “But I do think you have a problem. A very different kind of problem.”

My heart skipped a beat, my mind immediately jumping to the game. There was nothing else that I did, nothing else that I had in my life. But how could she even know about that? There were occasions that my experiments had come back home. Tonight, for example. The result of a few bad choices on my part. Perhaps that’s what she meant?

I played ignorant. I was ignorant. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I took another swallow of my Scotch. It didn’t calm me the way that I’d hoped.

“Let’s not dance around it, Hudson. I don’t know the word for it anyway. There might not even be one. But I’m aware. I see it. I see what you do to people. How you…handle them. Like earlier tonight, but this is hardly the first time. Or the fifth. Or even the fiftieth, I’d bet. It’s cruel behavior. It’s destructive. And I don’t just mean to the people you do it to. But to you. It’s destroying you.”

They were the only words I had, so I repeated them. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” My voice was weaker than before, though. I had zero conviction.

“You do know. And you don’t have to say anything. I don’t need to hear excuses or details. What I need is for you to hear me.” She fell down on her knees in front of me and grasped my empty hand between both of hers. “Hear me, Hudson. You are not who you think you are. There is more in you than you suspect. More to you than the mind games that I think absorb your life. I see it. I feel it. And not because I’m a hopeless optimist, but because this other part of you is very, very real.”

I started to pull my hand away, a jerk reaction, but she held it steady. “Don’t. I won’t let you break away from me, Hudson. You can’t. I’m invested in you, even if you aren’t invested in yourself. And I’m about to start a new life. One that might possibly push me further away from you, and here’s the thing—I can’t go if I don’t know you’re okay. I can’t move my world from yours until I know you aren’t going to destroy your own.”

My throat tightened. It felt like I should say something, but there weren’t words. And inside, where I usually felt empty, my chest burned. Uncomfortable, like indigestion, but even more constrictive. Like something was stirring around in there, stealing the space to breathe, about to explode out of me.

Mirabelle dug her fingers into my skin, her nails pleading as much as her words. “So will you do it? Tell me you’ll do it. Tell me you’ll quit. Tell me that you’re going to try. For me, if for no one else. Please, tell me.”

I could tell her to fuck off. I could tell her whatever she wanted to hear just to get her off my back. I could try to explain to her what the game really was, so that she could understand that it wasn’t actually a problem.

But the truth was that it was a problem. The experiments had become an obsession. I lived and breathed for them. And none of them, not a single one, ever taught me what I really wanted to know, which was why the hell I felt so goddamned empty.

So I said the only word I could. “Okay.”

“You mean that?”

I nodded, speech not easy through my clenched throat.

Her face crumpled, tears forming at the corners of her eyes as she bit her lip. She nodded a few times. Finally, in a choked voice, she said, “Thank you.”

She crawled up into my lap then, her legs to one side, and hugged me, like she used to when we were younger.

I let her.

I even hugged her back. Reluctantly at first, and then with a bear-tight grip.

“Thank you,” she said when she finally broke away. She scrambled off my lap to the bench beside me. She dabbed again at her eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to cry. I figured you’d take me more seriously if I remained together. But, that’s not me, I guess. Anyway. You have an appointment tomorrow.”

“An appointment tomorrow? With who?”

“A psychiatrist. Dr. Alberts. He’s an expert in experiential avoidance and a bunch of other big words that basically mean ‘aloof.’”

Other big words like sociopath?

“He’s situated in the city,” she continued, “but he makes house calls, and he agreed to come out here to meet you at ten. I arranged it before tonight even happened, Hudson. So don’t think I’m just reacting to this one incident.”

That she’d had this planned all along left a sour taste in my mouth. I hated that she’d formed an opinion about me, and then I’d proven her right. It was almost as though she’d played her own game, formed her own hypothesis, and she’d guessed correctly. Having the tables turned wasn’t my idea of a good time.

Besides that, I’d agreed to being intervened, so to say, but I’d thought it would be on my own terms. I could decide the course of my treatment. Not her. I used the obvious for my protest, “It’s your wedding day.”

“And this is my wedding present. From you.” She was even giddy about it.

“My wedding present was to not work all week.” But I already knew I’d meet with her specialist.

“This is another wedding present. You got me two.” She swiftly pecked my cheek. “Thanks, big bro.” And I was the master manipulator.

“What have you done to me, Mirabelle?”

“Good things, Hudson. I’ve done good things. Just wait and see.” She stared at my profile for several seconds. I felt her gaze like it was her hands that touched my skin. When she seemed satisfied with what she saw, she said, “But I’m going to go back to the party now and let you stay here and mope or mull or whatever really boring antisocial thing it is you like to do. Brood. That’s what you do.”

“I don’t brood.”

“Well, whatever you do, I’ll leave you to it now.” She stood, her skirt swirling in the light breeze. At the stairs, she looked back. “Ten tomorrow morning. In the study. Dr. Alberts is coming. Be there.”

“Where else would I be? Organizing the flowers with Mother?”

“Good point.” She gave me another bright smile, this time adding a wink. “I love you, brother. Thanks for making my wedding everything I ever dreamed.”

There it was. The typical words for the occasion. It made me smile a bit as well.

She blew me a kiss then skipped off into the night.

I sat on that bench for a long time after. I sipped my Scotch. And I cried. Sobbed for the first time that I could remember. There was no feeling behind the tears, just release. It was cathartic. It was a start.

Maybe it was even the beginning of the road to more.

Chapter Twenty-One

After

I wake to an empty bed. I should be used to it by now, having woken up the last several days alone. Each of those nights had been restless, sleep hard to come by without the warmth of the woman I’ve come accustomed to wrapping around in slumber.

Except I came home from Japan earlier tonight and reunited with Alayna, so my bed should not be empty. I’m so in tune with her that, despite several days apart, her absence can be felt even in my sleep.

I find her in the bathroom, staring in the mirror, her face pale and eyes wide. “What’s wrong?”

She jumps slightly at my voice, then peers over her shoulder at me. I don’t miss that she scans my naked body. My dick thickens a bit at her eyes, yet I ignore it, crossing to her. “Are you okay?”

There’s a moment of hesitancy before she says, “I just had a bad dream, and now I can’t sleep.”

Her reluctance to say more worries me. It’s only a dream, but after everything we’ve just been through, we have to be more open with each other. I need her to share this with me, if for no other reason than to feel like we are making progress.

I prod her gently. “Want to talk about it?”

She shakes her head then says, “Yes. But later.”

That, I can live with. Meanwhile, I start her a bath and agree without pause when she invites me to join her.

A few minutes later, we’re settled in a warm tub, Alayna sitting between my legs, her back to my chest. I hold her and think for the first time in my life that I understand happiness. It’s a truly different feeling than being sexually sated. We are naked, and I’m definitely aroused. I’ll have to be inside her before our bath is over. I’ll need to lick the wet drops of water from her breasts, need to fill her tight pussy with my cock. But it’s not a requirement. Touching her, holding her, being in her world—that’s where this peaceful bliss originates.

Also, we talk. We connect with words. It’s a strange thing for both of us to communicate openly, without fear of judgment, without regret. It will take getting used to, but we begin to try. I’m profoundly excited about this new start.

I even begin to forget about the one secret that I’ve held from her. I’ve worried whether I should tell her, then I’ve worried she’d find out. Now the worry starts to fade. Perhaps it’s not that big of an issue. I can keep it buried, and, as I learn to live with it, I can maybe stop letting it affect the way I am with Alayna. Possibly I could tell her how I really feel. Tell her that I love her without the guilt preventing the words.

But then Alayna asks a very unexpected question. “What happened between you and Stacy?”

“Stacy?” It takes me a minute to figure out who Stacy is. Then I realize she means the girl who works with Mirabelle at her boutique. “Nothing happened.” I’m baffled she’d think there was anything between us. “What do you mean? Like did I date her? I took her to a charity event a year or so ago. But after that, nothing. And I didn’t sleep with her.”

Alayna doesn’t seem to be comforted. “Is there a reason she’d have a vendetta against you? Or reason to distrust you?”

I shake my head. “Not that I can think of.”

Except that’s not true, because suddenly I can think of a very valid reason why she wouldn’t trust me. Celia had played her. And when she did, she had used my persona for her scheme.

I should tell Alayna. There’s no reason to keep it from her. It wasn’t even me who played her. Well, that’s not entirely true either. I’d let Celia use my persona. And, in the end, I’d participated. I told myself it was to put an end to the scam, but I had enjoyed the rush of the game, just as Dr. Alberts had led me to realize.

Whatever the reason—the guilt of my participation, the newness of being so open—I’m not ready to share it with Alayna. Not yet. Not until I understand the reason for her interest. “Why are you asking?”

She takes a deep breath. “The last time we were at Mira’s, Stacy told me that she had some sort of video. A video that proved something or other about you and Celia. She didn’t have it with her, so I gave her my phone number so she could contact me later.”

And just like that, the peaceful place I’d discovered is disturbed. What the fuck video could Stacy have? Something from that night? Something after? Did Stacy know about our plot with Alayna? There was no way she could, but if Celia had given her something…recorded a conversation or something…

These were paranoid thoughts. Liars and schemers learn that’s the only way to stay a step ahead of discovery. I’d believed I was past this. I’m disappointed to find that I’m not.

I stall the conversation as much as I can as I try to get my balance. Then she asks point blank, “Do you know what she’s talking about?”

“No idea.” And I don’t. Not really. “She didn’t tell you what the video was of?”

“No. Just that she had it, and that it would show me why I couldn’t trust you. And she texted me again tonight. Or sometime this past week when I didn’t have a phone, and I didn’t get the message until tonight.”

Though the water is still warm, the hairs on my arms stand straight up, as if I’d been thrown into ice. It’s possible that Stacy has proof of something in the past which Alayna is already aware of. But what if it’s something else? “What did her text say?”

“That the video was too big to send over the phone but to contact her if I wanted to see it.”

I’m frightened. I would never say that aloud, but I can admit that to myself. I’m scared that I will lose Alayna. I don’t know how to deal with that fear. I’m not one who cowers.

What I do know is that Alayna can’t see that video. Not until I do. It’s with self-loathing that I resort to my greatest skill—manipulation. “Do you want to see it?”

There’s no way I’ll let her see it first. Letting her believe I’m indifferent will take away her need to pursue it.

“No.” She hesitates. “Yes.” Then, “I don’t know. Should I?”

She’s conflicted. It’s right where I want her. Now to push her to the answer I want her to choose but gently. Too forceful, and she’ll see right through me.

“Well.” I rub my hands up and down her arms, taking advantage of the distraction our intense physical connection provides. “You know that Celia can’t be trusted already. And there is nothing that Stacy could have on me that you don’t already know. You know more about my secrets and my past than anyone. You know me, Alayna.”

“I do.”

“Then unless you don’t trust me…” The words taste so sour in my mouth. Yet I chew through them.

“I do trust you. If you say there’s nothing I should be concerned about…”

Direct eye contact is the best way to sell a lie. “There isn’t.”

It may be the worst thing I’ve ever done, misleading her like this. Worse than my actual participation in the game. Because then I didn’t know her. Now I’m doing this to someone I love.

I hold my breath as she makes her decision. Though I’m sickened by my betrayal, I’m desperate for her to choose as I wish.

After what seems like a lifetime, she smiles and says, “Then I don’t need to see it.”

A mix of emotions overcomes me. Relief is the most prominent, but there’s also a heady rush. Not from the successful conning but because Alayna has just given me her trust. It’s delusional to think that I deserve it. But oh, how I want it. It’s a gift I can’t ever begin to repay.

I vow that I will try. Whatever it takes, I will work to finally earn it.

I lean forward and kiss her chin. “Thank you.”

“For what, exactly?”

There’s no way to explain my true gratitude. I make it simple. “For being open with me. You didn’t have to tell me about that, and you did anyway.”

“I’m serious about being more open and honest.”

“I see that. I’m serious about it too. The only way we can move on is to decide that we’re committed to each other first and foremost.” These words are more than my attempt to erase the lie I’ve just told. They’re the beginning of the most important promise I plan to ever make. It’s because I’m so devoted to her that I’ve hidden what I have. It’s for her. It’s for us. “Are we?”

“I am.”

It’s only two words, but they’re musical. When I marry her—and I will, one day—that vow of forever will only be a repeat of this moment right here, right now. “So am I.”

I make love to her. I need her like this, need to blot out the horrible thing I just did with the beautiful thing that we are together. I pretend that the weight of my love for her can drown out the buzzing of the lies.

My hands and mouth take over her body, a body I know by heart. Quickly, I send her toward orgasm. It’s selfish, really. I need to be inside her. Need her ready. She intervenes, though, deciding to stall her release. Straddling me, she lowers herself down my cock, moaning as I take rest inside her.

God, she’s so fucking tight. She feels so incredible. Every time, it’s a surprise. Every time, I have to gather myself so I don’t come too soon. She rides me slowly but with force. It’s hot—her tits bouncing, her forehead creased with exertion, the breathy moans of pleasure that slip out of her mouth with each slide down. So mother-fucking sexy.

But this won’t get her off. She needs me to thrust. My girl likes it hard. I wrap my hands around her ass and hold her still so I can drive into her the way she needs.

“Do you always have to take over?” She’s not complaining.

I smile slightly. “If you want us both to come, then yes.”

She laughs and it causes her pussy to tighten. I twitch inside her. I’m close. She’s close.

“And who is it that wouldn’t come if I stayed in control?”

Does she even have to ask? “You.”

I push deeper into her, angling toward the spot that always seems to send her over. It works. Instantly she’s gasping and digging into my skin as she soars through her orgasm. In this position, I can see her face clearly. She’s completely transparent in this moment. I see everything in her expression—her love, her trust, her ecstasy. It’s beautiful.

God, what I’d give to deserve her.

I finish after her. Then I kiss her along her neck and jaw and lips. When I pull away, she has tears streaming down her face. “Alayna. What is it, precious?”

But she doesn’t answer, and soon, her tears are sobs.

She pushes me away and fumbles out of the tub. I’m right behind her. I grab a towel and wrap it around her. “Alayna, talk to me.”

Again, she runs from me.

I’m baffled and worried. I have no idea what is bothering her. Did I hurt her? Was there something I said? Always, I wonder, does she know somehow?

Worst is that she’s running. When we just said we were committed to each other. When we just vowed we wouldn’t do that anymore. Did I expect too much from her too soon?

If so, she has to tell me. I follow after—I’ll always follow after her—and spin her toward me. “Talk to me. What is it?”

Her breaths are deep, her entire body shuddering with her sobs. “You. Really. Hurt me.” Her words are broken, but I understand them.

“Just now?”

“No.” She tries to calm herself enough to talk. “You really hurt me. With Celia. When you believed her. Instead of me.”

There’s a weight on my chest, crushing against my heart, making it hard to breathe. “Oh, Alayna.” I pull her to me. That I am the cause of such deep pain—it wrecks me. I wish that I could take it all from her. “Tell me. Tell me all of it. I need to hear it.”

She tells me. All of it, in short, broken sentences. Each word another knife through my own skin. “It hurts, Hudson. It hurts so much. Even though you’re here. Now. And we’re together. There’s a hole. A deep, deep hole.”

I can’t say what I want to say, the magic phrase that will take it all away. So I tell her what I can. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. If I could take it back, if I could change how I reacted…I would have chosen differently.”

“I know. I do. But you didn’t choose differently. And you can’t take that back.” She straightens in my arms. “You can never take that back.”

“No. I can’t.” For all the things I’ve accomplished in my life, they will never outweigh the burden of this one failure.

“And that changes things. It changes me.”

I’m afraid to ask, but I do. “How?”

“It makes me vulnerable. Exposed. And you know now. That you can hurt me. You can hurt me real bad.”

“Alayna.” I pull her back to me. “My precious girl. I never want to hurt you again. Will you ever be able to…forgive me?” My voice is thick and unrecognizable, and I realize that I’m also on the verge of a breakdown. If this has the power to hurt her so much, what would my other secret do?

If I’d ever wondered if our love could survive my deceit, I know the answer now. It will not. She will not.

Maybe Celia had the experiment pegged right all along. Alayna could be broken.

I rock her in my arms, kissing her, apologies on my tongue. Eventually, I carry her to the bed where she finishes her tears wrapped in my arms.

While she cries, I think how there was a brief space of time there where the whirring had stopped, where my mind was quiet and my skin didn’t itch with regrets. I’d cut Celia from my life, and though I expected that she wasn’t finished with me quite yet, I’d begun the work to ensure that she was. In Japan, I’d met with GlamPlay and convinced them to purchase shares in Werner Media. I’d even got back Plexis.

Then I’d returned home to fight for Alayna.

And I’d won.

We’d won, I thought. Our demons hadn’t come between us. We were still together. Still in love.

Then in the course of an hour, I’d realized that not only would my lie always be on the verge of discovery, but how important it was to keep that secret buried. While I’d always expected, now I knew. The truth would destroy us.

When she’s calm, we talk, we start to mend. We move on.

We’ll be fine, I know that. I’m not worried that we can’t recover from the mistakes we’ve made. The ones in the open, anyway. And I vow yet again to never let her know the truth of how she came into my world. It’s this battle that may kill me, but better me than her.

After the words are said and our hurts confessed, I make my promises again to her, silently, with my lips. I kiss her, I cherish her. From her head to her toes, I leave no space untouched. My mouth adores each square inch of her skin, each freckle, each finger, each toe.

I lavish her in love that I can’t speak. I claim her body, her life, as mine.

* * *

I tap the side of my cheek with my pen in rapid tempo, deep in thought. Has it really only been five days since I returned from Japan? It seems like a lifetime has happened in this week.

“If you purchase GlamPlay under any of your American subsidiaries though, the press is going to get a hold of that information, and it won’t be covert like you want. Hudson, are you even listening?”

I halt my pen mid-tap and throw my gaze to Norma Anders. She’s frustrated with me. With this project. I’m frustrated too. But whatever it takes, we have to make this purchase happen. “I heard you. So we need to find a more indirect way to buy GlamPlay.”

I work my jaw as I try to come up with a solution to our problem, but my brain isn’t working. Running a hand across my face, I let out an exasperated sigh. “Fuck. I don’t know. Do you have a suggestion?”

“I’m not sure.” She shakes her head as she thinks. “Actually…what if we use Walden Inc. to purchase GlamPlay? Pierce Industries still holds controlling interest there, right?”

When my father took over Walden Inc. for my mother’s family, he left a small portion of the company outside the Pierce Corporation. As a safety net, he’d said. Over the years, Pierce Industries had ended up being the lifeline for Walden Inc., purchasing shares and investing when the small financial company needed it. Now it holds its own, though Pierce Industries does own the majority of the stock. Norma’s idea is a good one. As long as Walden has enough liquid funds to pay the price—and I’m certain they do—it would be a way to move under the radar.

Walden Inc., though, is the one company that my father still actively runs. Any such purchase will have to go through him.

I’d prefer not to involve Jack. But if I have to… “It’s our only shot, isn’t it?”

“The only one I can think of. Will you have trouble convincing your father?”

Considering how Jack feels about Celia, I’m sure that won’t be a problem. “No. He’ll do it.” I push the intercom to my secretary. My meeting with Norma was early, but it’s gone long enough that Patricia should be in by now.

“Yes, Mr. Pierce?”

“I need my father on the line in about fifteen minutes, please.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Okay then,” I say to Norma. “Anything else?”

Norma scratches a note on her legal pad then looks up. “Not that I can think of. If all this goes well, we will need to be in L.A. next week for the final signatures. And no, I can’t do this for you. You’ll have to be present.”

“Great. Thank you.”

She stuffs her pad in her briefcase and sits forward as if she’s about to stand. But she pauses. “Hudson, are you all right?”

I don’t have to guess why she’s asking. I’ve been grumpy and distracted for the past few days. The sources of my stress can be broken down into two things—or people, to be precise: Celia and Stacy.

The former has begun stalking Alayna. I’m sure it’s simply a scare tactic—that Celia won’t do anything to physically harm my girlfriend—but I won’t take any chances. This deal with GlamPlay should end any interaction with Celia at all. Now if we can just survive until the deals are signed.

Stacy, on the other hand, is still an unknown quantity. The video she’s sent me…

“Hudson,” Norma prods. I’ve left her waiting too long for my answer.

“I’m fine. I just have a lot on my mind.” Understatement of the year.

I stand, hoping that will prompt her to as well. I have other business to take care of, starting with a heart-to-heart with my father. “Thank you for meeting with me early. I appreciate all your work on this project.”

She stands and nods at me. “Of course.”

“I don’t need to remind you that this all must remain confidential?” Keeping this purchase secret is vital. I haven’t even told Alayna about these plans. I wouldn’t want to get her hopes up, in case something falls through.

“Completely.” Norma says. “Oh, by the way, I wanted to thank you for hiring Gwen.”

Alayna had officially hired Norma’s little sister at The Sky Launch only the night before. “I can’t take any credit. Thank Alayna.” I suddenly remember something Alayna had said about her new manager. “Norma, may I ask why Gwenyth was so eager to leave the Eighty-Eighth Floor? I thought she was happy there.”

Norma sighs. “She was. Long story. Let’s just say there was a man.”

“Oh.” I give a tight smile letting her know she needn’t say more.

“But on that subject, Gwen would really like to not be found. Do you have any suggestions how we might make that happen?”

It was almost comforting to know I wasn’t the only one with secrets. “We’ll need to pay her under an alternate social security number. That’s illegal.” I pause to make sure she’s with me. “But I could arrange it.”

“I’d very much appreciate whatever you can do.”

“No problem.” There are few people who I’d ever make this sort of offer to. But Norma has been with me through thick and thin, and has navigated more than one not-so-legal deal in our time together. I trust her. I make a mental note to get Jordan on the task.