The idea thrills me and delights me as I think about it.

And then I let it go.

I know from experience that Celia is a worthy foe. Any violation of her plan on my part will result in retaliation. Though I don’t fear what she can do to me, I am attached in this odd way to Alayna Withers. I care about what Celia can and will do to her. My protection can only be effective if I stay the course.

Though I’m a fairly humorless person, I laugh at my own attempt to fool myself. I’m not invested in this for Alayna’s benefit. It’s all for my own. I want to be close to the woman. I want to study the effect she has on me. I want to see her survive, but it’s for my own selfish satisfaction.

Still, I decide to give her the spa trip. I’m not sure what motivates me to do so. I don’t leave my name on the gift note so it’s not about endearing her to me. I truly want her to go because I think she’d enjoy it. Because I want her to have a moment of pleasure in a life that has been less than easy. Perhaps I am capable of unselfish actions after all.

Or maybe I just know Alayna will have a better chance in Celia’s game if she enters it pampered and well-rested. That’s a more likely reason for my actions. I’m capable of manipulating the thoughts of many, but I can’t convince myself that I’m a better person than I am, no matter how hard I try.

Chapter Seven

I’m a composed man. Always in control. I’ve run meetings of disgruntled board members without forming a bead of sweat. I’ve bid on high stock investments without altering my pulse. I’ve played convincible mind games without batting an eye.

Tonight, in the presence of a woman I hardly know, I’m in over my head.

Perhaps I’m losing my touch. Or maybe I’ve just finally met my match.

Alayna enters the bubble room before me. Just yesterday, on her first shift after her vacation at my spa, I was introduced to her as the new owner of the club. We haven’t yet had a chance to establish a working relationship. This is by design. I don’t want her to see me as her boss or a business associate. I need her to see me as a man. As a potential lover.

So here we are in as close to a non-work environment as I can establish within the club. She’s accompanying me while I eat dinner. The setup should feel to her like a date. However, it also feels like a date for me and that is why I’m a bit daunted.

At least we’ll be daunted together.

Alayna flips the switch to indicate our bubble room is occupied. Then she hands me a menu. It’s slightly amusing. She’s not on-the-clock, and yet she’s still on duty.

I gesture for her to take a seat. “After you.”

She sits, and I watch her closely. Her knuckles are nearly white from gripping the table edge. Her heel is bouncing against the carpeted floor. She’s nervous to be here—alone—with me. Frankly, I am too. But it’s up to me to calm her nerves. And mine.

Jesus, I’m fucked.

I remove my jacket and take my time hanging it up on the hook behind me. This is when I get my shit together. I’ve only got one shot at pulling this off and if I don’t do it right, the whole scheme is over before it’s begun. And I’ll look like an idiot.

One deep breath in and I’m ready to face her. Game on.

I sit across from her and throw down the menu she gave me. “I don’t need this. Do you?”

“No, thank you, Mr. Pierce.”

“Hudson,” I correct.

“No, thank you, Hudson.” The sound of my name on her lips and I’m already straining in my pants. “I’ve already eaten.”

“A drink then? Though, I know you work at eleven.” This is all a ruse. I’ve already ordered for us both. And I’m the one who needs the drink.

Alayna’s tongue flicks across her lower lip. “Maybe an iced tea.”

Now I’m thinking of her tongue flicking across my cock. “Good.”

I press the button in the middle of the table that summons the waitress and my fingers crash into hers. Her touch, the stunning warmth in this brief contact—I must have more. She moves to pull away, but I don’t let her and take her hand in mine.

She inhales sharply as I stroke my thumb along the back of her hand.

I lock my eyes on hers, noticing her pupils widen. I make an excuse about why I’m still touching her. She accepts it. From the look on her expression, she’ll accept anything I say at the moment.

She’s into me. This is good.

I’d worried that my harsh meeting with her the day before had ended her attraction. Admittedly, I’d been…not very friendly is one way to put it. It was necessary though. She’d been dressed provocatively—again—and I’d made a scene about it. I had to establish my authority in front of David. I had to show from the beginning that Alayna would not be my favorite as far as work was concerned—though she very much already was.

And I had to put an end to her wearing outfits that invited men to harass her. Maybe she could handle their advances. I could not.

Necessary as it was, the flare of anger that had sparked in her eyes afterward had concerned me. Now, as I caress her skin, and she practically melts in my hand, I realize my anxiety was in vain.

Also, I realize how nice it feels to touch her like this. Extremely nice.

My phone rings, interrupting our contact.

“Excuse me.” I remove my phone from my pants pocket and silence it. I know from the ringtone who it is—Celia. She’s likely checking in on my progress.

Fuck her. She’s too eager and it pisses me off. I’ll get back to her when I’m good and ready, if at all.

“You can take it if you need to,” Alayna says.

“There can’t be anything important enough to interrupt this conversation.” It’s a line and not a line all at once. Is it possible to play the game and be sincere at the same time? My script is very loose. I know where I’m supposed to end before I walk out of this room, but everything that takes place before then is improvised. In my past schemes, I’d study the subject and make educated guesses as to what he or she wanted to hear in order to get them to the finish. I artfully manipulated.

This is not like that.

Though everything I have said and done so far has set me up perfectly for my task, a great deal of it has come organically. It’s genuine.

It’s such a foreign arrangement that, again, I have the sensation of being completely fucked.

The waitress enters and I’m relieved for the break in my thoughts. She places my dinner in front of me along with a glass of Sancerre. Then she sets a glass of iced tea in front of Alayna.

Alayna’s brow rises and I answer her unasked question. “I asked Liesl what you usually drank. If you had said you wanted something different, I wouldn’t look quite so cool at this moment.”

My play is working—she relaxes ever so slightly and gives me a smile. “Hmm, cool is not quite the word I’d use for you.”

Well, this is intriguing. “What word would you use for me then?”

She blushes and takes a sip of her tea. I’m betting she was thinking something dirty. I’m desperate to find out.

But the waitress interrupts my quest. “Anything else, Mr. Pierce?”

“We’re good.” I wait until she’s gone to return to my pursuit. “What word would you use for me, Alayna?”

She doesn’t hesitate. “Controlled.”

“Interesting.” It’s not what she was going to say. I take a bite of my sea bass, seemingly diverting my attention. “Not that controlled isn’t an accurate description of me. But I had thought from the look on your face that you would say something else.”

She doesn’t respond and I’m more convinced that her thoughts were inappropriate. She moves her eyes to study the club below us. As I eat my meal, I study her. She’s not as easy to read as most people I encounter. Or perhaps it’s that I want to know more of her than I can scope out on my own. I want to know what she’s thinking. What she thinks about me.