The Fixed Trilogy(Fixed on You, Found in You, Forever With You)(335)

And I look up to them.

Celia would never understand, so I simply say, “You never know what gems you might find.” I pick up the portfolio from my lap and flip through it absently as I speak. “Don’t blame me, though, when you have to fight to stay awake. And don’t even think of trying to get me to leave.”

“I won’t do either. I’ll be a good girl.”

My eyes dart to her legs as she crosses one over the other. They’re attractive, I’ll admit. She’s attractive. I’d be a liar if I said otherwise. But I am not attracted to her in that way. Not at all. It’s likely a symptom of my inability to love, though I do take interest in other women. Women I don’t know. I fuck them and have a good time, but that’s all. Celia is the only woman besides my mother and sister that I know on any sort of intimate level. And as if she were a family member, I have not a speck of desire for her.

“I’m only here to be with you, anyway,” she says now, wrapping her hand around my arm.

I flick my gaze toward her grasp, but don’t shrug her away. “Stop saying things like that, Celia.” As well as I know her, I’ve yet to understand her intentions by making statements such as this. She’s smart enough to realize that I will never return any affection, and strangely, I don’t think that’s what she’s after. She simply wants that same connection that I do—a kinship with someone who understands the dark fascinations that live inside her.

And I do understand her darkness. In fact, I’m fairly certain I birthed it in Celia. Time and again I try to remember if I saw it residing there before I subjected her to my cruel experiment. I can never be sure of the answer. How could I be expected to identify light when I dwell in total darkness myself? Now, even though I’m better, though I’ve resigned from the game, there is only black everywhere around me.

Still pretending to focus on the portfolio, I feel rather than see her look away.

“I’m sorry,” she says in a low voice. “I just…I don’t know.”

A moment of pity grips me. “You don’t have to explain. I understand.”

The lights dim, and the president of the business program takes the stage. I drop the folder onto my lap, having garnered very little information about the night’s presentations. I won’t learn anything from that, anyway. If there’s someone worth my time, I won’t know until I hear him or her speak.

After the president speaks, the first presentation begins. I know there will be six students in all. That doesn’t vary from year to year. Only the top students of the graduating class are invited to present. They are the cream of the crop. Stern isn’t Harvard, but it’s a Top Ten business school. These students are some of the nation’s best.

As I promised, though, the evening is a bore. Also true to her word, Celia doesn’t complain. She appears to be deep in thought, most likely concocting her next scam. The temptation to join her in scheming is great, but I push against the pull and focus my attention on the event. International trade seems to be the topic of the night, but there are a few differentiations—one talk is about the newest tax codes and how they can better benefit corporations. Snore. Another presents a variation on an old business model. It’s an original idea, but not practical.

By the time the fifth student finishes, I’ve met my limit. I nudge Celia out of her reverie. “I’m ready to go,” I begin to say, but stop myself before I get the words out. The woman ascending the stairs to the stage has caught my eye, and all thoughts of leaving disappear. Something about the way she moves is captivating—the wiggle of her hips suggests an undercurrent of sexuality, and her back is straight with confidence.

Then she turns toward the audience, and my breathe catches. Even here twelve rows away, I can tell she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Her dark brown hair falls just so around her face, accentuating sharp cheekbones. Her eyes are dark. Her short dress reveals long, lean legs. The modest cleavage of her outfit can’t hide perfectly plump tits.

There’s something else—something about her carriage that makes me sit up and take notice. And she hasn’t even spoken yet.

“What?” Celia whispers, responding to the jab I’d given her. Or perhaps to the way I gasped at the sight of the angel before us.

“Nothing. Never mind.” Our conversation was in conjunction with the introduction and I missed what the presenter’s name is or what she’s meant to talk about. I can’t move my eyes for even a moment to check the program.

I’m mesmerized. Truly mesmerized.