The panic rising in my chest escapes in a burst. “Yes, it’s true!” And oh my God. I’ve said it out loud. I’ve disclosed the worst thing about me. I take a deep breath and attempt to regain control. “In the past, it was true.”

I can’t look at her, can’t see the disappointment that I feel shooting from her eyes. I shouldn’t say anything else, but now that the confessing’s started, I feel compelled to complete it. “I did...things...that I’m not proud of.” My admission is slow. Painful. “I manipulated people. I hurt them, and often it was deliberate.” I’m speaking as if my faults are in the past. And they are. At least they were. Is that still true?

I vow right then that it is true. I will not hurt Alayna deliberately. I may be trapped in this game, but I will do everything and anything to make sure that my actions with her are sincere. I meet her eyes and make the promise I will try my damndest to keep. “But not now. I don’t do that now. Not with you.”

I pray that she believes me.

She doesn’t. “Really? Because it seems completely obvious that you did exactly that with me. The way you picked me out at the symposium, and you tracked me down and gave me a spa vacation, and Jesus, you bought the club!”

I shake my head. “It’s not like that. I explained the gift, and I was looking at the club anyway.” I’m already breaking my promise, already manipulating truths. “When I found out you worked there, yes, it helped me make my decision—”

She cuts me off. “And you ‘hired’ me and seduced me. And when I told you I needed to not have sex with you, you somehow got me to do exactly that. You are manipulative. You’re a bully, Hudson.”

She wraps her arms around herself, and more than anything, I wish it were me wrapped around her. But her words are ringing in my ear—manipulative, bully.

“No, Alayna. I didn’t want that with you.” But, God, she’s right. I’ve tried to have my cake and eat it too. Tried to get near her with my games, and then tried to protect her from them at the same time. It was a ridiculous plan. “I don’t want to be like that with you.”

But it’s the only way I know how to be with her. With anyone.

“Then what do you want to be with me, Hudson?” She wipes at her tears, and I have to hold myself back from kissing them from her face.

“Honestly? I’m not sure.” It’s the truest thing I’ve said. I lean back against the seat, and though I’m physically here in my limousine, I’m also completely lost. I’ve never been so without answers. Not just today with the mess that Celia has created, but since the very first day I saw Alayna.

Why her? Why now? Has therapy actually changed me? Is that why she makes me feel the way she does? Because as scared as I am to admit it, that’s exactly what’s going on with Alayna—I’m feeling. She makes me feel. What, I can’t say. I’m not familiar enough with these sensations to explain any of it.

It strikes me as funny. Why, after all my life of never feeling anything for anyone, this woman shows up and throws all my truths out the window. It’s ironic. Comical even.

So I laugh. Then I attempt to put it into words, for both our sakes. “I’m drawn to you, Alayna. Not because I want to hurt you or make you feel a certain way, but because you’re beautiful and sexy and smart and, yes, a little crazy maybe, but you’re not broken. And that makes me hopeful. For me.”

And, God doesn’t that feel fucking good to say? It’s raw. It’s real. It’s the freest I’ve ever been.

I glance at her and know from the way she’s watching me that I have her attention. I have her sympathy. At another time in my life, this is the moment where I’d inwardly celebrate. This is the prime moment to take advantage of someone else.

I could reach out to her, and I’m willing to bet she’d let me do what I’d like with her. Only a day before, I probably would have. I regret that now. “And maybe I’ve been a bully. But I’m a dominant person. I can try to change things about me, but the fundamentals of my personality are never going away.” That acknowledgment brings another rush of freedom, and I realize that Alayna likely gets this as well as I do. “You of all people should be able to understand that.”

“I’m sorry.” Her voice cracks. “I’m sorry. You didn’t judge me and I judged you.”

Her apology returns me to my prison. The reprieve from my guilt was brief. Now I remember that no matter what I feel or intend or wish to have happen between her and me, we got here because I set her up. My remorse is so heavy, I can’t speak. All I can do is nod once.

She assumes my response is acceptance. “And I exaggerated when I called you a bully. I haven’t done anything I didn’t want to. And your whole confident, domineering thing is actually kinda hot.”

I want to smile. But I won’t let myself. There’s still too much at stake. I squeeze my eyes shut, focusing all my strength and will on the thing I want—need—most. “Alayna, don’t quit. Don’t quit me.”

And I don’t mean the scenario I’ve hired her for. I mean me. I want her to have as much faith in me as I do in her. It’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever desired, and I’ve never desired anything more.

She looks away, and I already know her answer. “Hudson, I have to. Not because of this, well, not only because of this, but because of my past. I’m not well enough to be with someone who has his own issues.”

“You are, Alayna. You only tell that to yourself because you’re scared.” It’s me I’m talking about, but I suspect she feels the same.

“I should be scared. It’s not safe. For either of us. You should be scared, too.”

If she only knew how scared I am. I’m terrified of what I’ve done—of what I’m doing—but more than anything, I’m terrified that I will lose whatever it is that I have with her.

But maybe she’s right. This is what I want for her—to be strong like this. I let out a heavy breath and think about what she’s said. And I realize I don’t agree. “I don’t believe that. I think spending time with another person who has similar compulsive tendencies can provide insight and healing.” Because in this brief time with her, I’ve had more insight and healing than I’ve had in three years with Dr. Alberts.

Alayna leans her head back against the seat and stares at the ceiling. I’ve given her a lot to think about, I’m sure. I’ve given myself a lot to think about. But the only word that keeps repeating in my head now is please. Please don’t let me lose this. Please don’t let me lose her.

“I won’t quit.” Her words jump-start my heart. She turns to face me. “But I can’t have a relationship with you, Hudson. All I can give you is the fake. I have to protect myself here.”

I’m sick with disappointment. “I understand.” I say it again to myself, hoping this time I accept it. “Thank you.”

And since she’s ended us—ended the only part of us that matters—I pull myself together, closing myself off. Shutting her out.

Then she places a hand on my knee and leans in. “Hudson, you’re not broken.”

I begin to falter when I catch sight of her cleavage. What I see under her dress surprises me. “What are you...? Is that...?” I swear she’s wearing the corset I’d admonished her for the day we’d first properly met. Though it was inappropriate for work, I’d mentioned how much I’d love to see her in it again, privately.

She blushes. “Yes. I’d worn it for you.”

“Wow. That was…that was very thoughtful of you.” The moment is inopportune, but I’m instantly hard. Actually, I suspect that everything I’ve bared and everything she’s said has helped contribute to how much I want her now. She always turns me on. But now I need her in a way that is all-consuming.

Yet, I can’t have her. Even though her eyes flicker with the same need, I know that I’ll hurt us both if I don’t respect what she’s asked for.

“I’m sorry,” she says.