“That won’t be necessary.” Hudson was cool, his words clipped. “This conversation doesn't involve him. It does, however, involve Alayna.”
The hair raised at the back of my neck, some strange sense of foreboding that I couldn’t shake.
It was silly, honestly. Probably just PTSD from the last time I’d seen Alayna, when she was still Withers instead of Pierce. When she’d broken my nose with one jab of her fist.
I’d deserved it. But that was ages ago. Why were we all together now?
“I'm intrigued,” I said, studying the woman who had once been my foe. She still hated me. It was evident in her expression, and a few recent remarks from Genevieve had indicated the same. “How are you, Laynie? It's been so long since we've seen each other face-to-face. You look…” Like a woman with one-year-old twins. “Tired.”
It was childish and petty. Mean, even, and I wasn’t quite sure exactly what I meant by saying it when, honestly, I could relate. Maybe that’s what I resented most about our relationship—there could be so much to like about the woman, so much to bond over. I could imagine the friendship that would never be, and it made me ache in strange places. Made me more bitter than I should have been.
Because wasn’t all of this supposed to be over? For me, it was. I thought it was for Hudson too.
His face gave nothing away, his expression stone, still I could feel the glare behind the facade. “What can we get you to drink, Celia?” A tumbler of scotch already sat in front of him, but he raised his hand to signal the waiter.
“Nothing. Water, I suppose.” I crossed one leg over the other.
“Really?” He sounded irritated, which meant the situation was getting to him too. “You were the one who suggested we meet at a bar, and you’re not even having a drink?”
I hadn’t chosen it, the app had.
But I was irritated with his irritation. And with being set up. And with all the distrust around me, whether I’d earned it or not. “I'm nursing. I can’t drink, unless I'm going to dump it all after, and I'm not.” I nudged his drink closer to him. “But we all know you’re in a much more agreeable mood when you've had one of these. Hence, the bar.”
Yeah, again it was petty, suggesting he might have an alcohol problem. I couldn’t help myself. He’d ganged up on me. Ironically, I realized I was probably reacting exactly the same way I’d told Edward that Hudson would react if we’d ganged up on him.
“I changed my mind,” Hudson said abruptly. “We don’t need to meet with you. This isn’t going to get us anywhere. Alayna, grab your purse. We are leaving.” He pulled out his wallet and began flipping through the bills inside.
“Hudson,” his wife said, placing her hand on his arm. “We should stay.”
He hesitated then threw some money on the table, but when he pocketed his wallet, he didn’t stand to leave.
I had to concentrate to keep my jaw from dropping. Whatever they needed to discuss with me had to be important. Important to them, anyway. Which meant it could be useful to me.
For the first time since I walked in, I felt a flicker of hope.
“Thank you,” I said. “I would hate to have wasted this trip.” Conscious that the clock was ticking, I pressed the conversation. “Now, since Edward is not involved in this matter and Alayna is, I am assuming that we are not here to speak about the three-point alliance?”
“That is—”
Alayna interrupted her husband. “Like Pierce Industries is going to sell you shares. Did you forget that we have the majority for a reason? Hudson needed to have something to hold—ow!”
She cut off sharply, throwing a scowl in Hudson’s direction.
“That is correct,” he finished, his teeth gritted. “We are here to ask you for…” He paused. “Assistance.”
I tilted my head, evaluating. “This is interesting. You must be mighty desperate if you’re asking me for help. You have to know that’s going to indenture you to me.”
“Why don’t you hear the situation out before you start bartering about payment? At one time, you and I helped each other with no strings attached. Especially when we found the outcome benefitted both of us. You might find this is one of those times.”
A welcome stab of warmth penetrated my numb cocoon. Whether he meant it to be manipulative or not, his words acknowledged the friendship we once had. That friendship had been real. With all the poison we created in the world, we’d also soothed each other’s aches. For a time, anyway. And even if he wanted to use that against me, he couldn’t deny that we’d been what we were.
That cost him to admit that. I could set down my weapons for a moment, though I kept my shield up as I gestured for him to continue. “Go on then. I’m listening.”
He glanced at Alayna, to assure her or be reassured, I didn’t know. Then his focus came back to me. “We have received a series of threats recently. Letters, addressed to me, containing menacing language toward my family.”
The momentary warmth vanished. “And you think I did it?” Of course they did. Of course the past could never be forgotten. Of course I would live with my sins for the rest of my life. How had Hudson managed to escape the same curse?
“No, we didn’t—” he began.
“Well…” Alayna said softly.
Hudson shut her up with a glare. “We didn’t come here to accuse you. But the threats reference the past. The time when you and I were…” Another glance toward his wife, and I realized that he was as uncomfortable about who he’d been as I ever was.
“Playing together,” I finished for him. His gaze dropped, weighted with guilt. “I see.”
I also saw I’d been wrong with my earlier assessment—Hudson hadn’t escaped his past, though there was every chance the worst was just now catching up to him.
I could empathize with that. More than I wanted to admit. In fact, with my husband currently circling the block with every intention of busting in soon, I understood Hudson completely.
“Do you have these letters with you?” I asked, despite feeling the pressure of time. “May I read them?”
He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a stack of photocopied papers then slid them across the table toward me. Then he threw back the rest of his drink, finishing it in one swallow.
It had taken all my courage to go to him that day in his office, to ask him to help keep my father in the dark about the ownership of his company. I’d had to set down a lot of anger and shame and regret in order to walk through his door. It was evident that he was now doing the same.
I know, Hudson. I fucking know.
I blinked away the sting in my eyes and focused on the papers in front of me. Quickly, the words I read replaced any notion toward sentimentality with something else—fear. The letters were clearly threats, the most haunting phrases sticking out as though they’d been written in bold.
“...should have counted on your past coming back to haunt you.”
“You can’t buy your way out of paying for your sins.”
“...don’t deserve your happy life.”
“The safety of your tower is an illusion.”