The Fixed Trilogy(Fixed on You, Found in You, Forever With You)(261)

I stood and stepped toward her. “Look, you wanted me to see it to warn me about him. Don’t you think I need the warning even more now? Woman to woman. Please.” I was desperate—grasping at whatever would speak to her. It was manipulative, perhaps, but I’d been learning from the best.

Stacy’s face softened. “I’m off at four. Give me your email and I’ll send it to you as soon as I get home.”

“Thank you. Thank you.” I dove for my purse on the floor where I kept my business cards.

“But I’m done. I’m destroying the damn thing like he asked and then no more. Whatever you decide about the man, you’re on your own.”

“Of course.” I found the item I was looking for and handed it to Stacy. “Here’s my card. The email is my home and work.”

She took the card from me and tucked it in her pocket.

“Thank you, Stacy. And, again, I’m sorry. If I can make it up to you…”

“Found it!”

Mira’s return interrupted me. I was grateful, actually. The sooner she had a dress chosen for me and her event, the sooner I’d be on my way home. And Stacy would be off soon. Maybe her video would even be in my inbox by the time I booted up my laptop at the penthouse.

As I put the latest outfit on and posed and smiled and succumbed to Mira’s primping and ecstatic cries of “This is the one,” I felt more comfortable with myself than I had in a while. Lauren was right—some things would always be in my nature. Needing to know everything didn’t say anything about my levels of trust or distrust in Hudson. It was all about me and my compulsions. The things I could and couldn’t live with.

And when it came to secrets, I would always have to uncover them eventually.





Chapter Twelve



The drive back to the penthouse was the longest I’d ever been on.

I’d left Mirabelle’s at the same time Stacy had. Once again, she’d said she’d email me the file and once again I thanked her. Then she headed toward the subway and I slipped into the back of the Maybach. My hands were sweaty as I fastened my seat belt, but my heart was also beating with anticipation.

It didn’t escape me that I was reacting like an addict getting her first fix in months. And wasn’t that exactly what I was doing? The romantic obsessive girl about to indulge in compulsive snooping?

It was only Jordan and me in the car—Reynold had the afternoon off—and I’d intended to go back to the club for a while after Mira’s. But I knew I’d be too consumed with the video to work. And watching it in a private location seemed like the best move.

Four p.m. on Monday in NYC, though, is rush hour. Getting from Greenwich Village to Uptown was a nightmare. I busied myself with trying to figure out how to set my email up on my phone—why hadn’t I thought that was a good idea before now? But I couldn’t focus enough on the steps to make it happen.

Instead, my mind buzzed with questions. So many questions beyond what was on the video. Like, how had Stacy happened to make a video in the first place? If it had been made with her phone, wouldn’t she have been able to send it by phone? Was she carrying around a video camera and then just happened to tape this…this…whatever it was? Why did she think this particular moment was even worthy of preserving?

Which led to the question, what about the video made Hudson want it destroyed? That was a big one, the reason I’d ended up pursuing getting a copy for myself.

And then there was Stacy’s comment about Hudson wooing people. She’d said it as if he had wooed her. Hudson had sworn they’d only had the one date. It was this detail that intrigued me the most. Because even if all the video ended up being was proof that his relationship with Stacy had been one of his scams, he’d at the very least lied to me about the extent of his interaction with her. That pardoned me from whatever trust of his I was about to break, didn’t it?

I hadn’t promised I wouldn’t see the video, I reasoned. I’d told him I didn’t have to. Well, things had changed. And now I did have to. No promise broken, simply a new set of circumstances.

That’s what I convinced myself, anyway.

At the penthouse, I was out of the car before Jordan could open my door. “Remember to set the alarm,” he called after me. That was the arrangement. When I was at the penthouse alone, Jordan or Reynold would wait outside until I’d set the security system. Then they’d get an automatic text showing a secured status and they’d leave. At the moment, Celia was the least of my concerns, but in general, it was nice knowing that even though I was protected, I still had some semblance of privacy.