I changed my script. “Hey, I’m quitting the game. That doesn’t mean I have to quit you.”

Her brow ticked up. “Even if I decide to still play? Won’t I be a temptation?”

“Maybe I want the temptation.”

Her expression softened, her eyes lighting up with hope. “Do you really?”

Yes. No. I didn’t have the answer. “I don’t know. I don’t know what I want, Celia. This isn’t easy for me. I’m flying blind.”

“And that’s not like you.”

“No, it’s not.” Actually, it was the weakest I thought I had ever been in front of her. Except for maybe the night we’d watched my drunken mother fire the nanny. Even then, I didn’t think Celia grasped the extent of my vulnerability.

Now, there was nowhere to hide. She saw.

She shifted, angling her knees toward me, and patted me once on the thigh. “Here’s what I think, and go ahead and bitch at me if it’s not what you want to hear. I think this is a phase you’re going through. It’s something you have to try. I get that. But you’re going to realize that you can’t stay away. The game isn’t just what you do; it’s who you are. So go ahead and do this, this therapy thing. And when you’re ready, I’ll be here.”

Years ago, when I’d first accepted her request to teach her the game, I’d thought the same thing about her. That she was going through a phase. That she’d abandon me after she got bored.

She’d surprised me when she stuck with it, much as she surprised me now.

“You might be waiting a long time,” I said. “Full disclosure here.”

“We’ll see.”

I swallowed. “Then you’re going to keep playing?”

“I think I am. Is that all right?”

Not really. “I said it was. I’m not your keeper.” Selfishly, I wanted her to quit as well. How much easier would it be to have a companion on the road to recovery? Was that even possible, for two addicts to be helpful to each other?

She must have sensed that I wasn’t being entirely truthful. “What do you want me to do, Hudson?”

If I was really going through with this, really going to make an actual effort to be less manipulative and more sympathetic, then I had to start with Celia. “I want you to do what’s best for you. For once. Honestly.”

“Then I’m still playing.” She smiled. “And don’t be surprised if I try to tempt you back to my ways.”

“Hey, that wasn’t part of the deal.”

She batted her lashes, feigning innocence. “You said you wanted what was best for me.” Then she grew serious. “Best for me is to have you with me, Hudson. With me in the game, I mean. You’ve said I can’t have that. But I have to keep trying.”

So along with my own temptations, I’d have to battle Celia’s enticement as well? Goddamn consequences. “That’s fair, I suppose.”

“Is it?”

“Does it matter if it is or isn’t? You’ll go after what you want either way.”

“True.” She smirked. “And you just said you want me to have what I want.”

We were talking in circles, and it was exhausting. I’d thought for sure that seeing Celia would make me want to play again. Strangely, it hadn’t. Instead, I saw how desperate and futile the experiments were. Here we were after all of our games, and with all the data and experience we’d collected, all we had between us was the next play. It wasn’t sustainable. It wasn’t—to use my own words—real.

Our relationship had to change. I saw that now. I’d said I wouldn’t quit our friendship, but I didn’t say to what extent I’d remain in contact. It would have to be limited, I realized. Family and business gatherings. Places where we couldn’t talk and scheme. It wasn’t only me I was protecting. Maybe, if we didn’t see each other very often, maybe Celia would quit too.

Okay, I wasn’t trying to save her, but wouldn’t it be admirable if I did? Stripped of my superpowers, I was grasping for something—anything—to make me special rather than just an epic asshole.

Spending more time with Celia wasn’t going to help with that. “I have to go, Ceely.” I stood then turned to face her. “But, yes, I do want you to have what you want. I hope that someday you want something different than this.”

She followed me, getting to her feet. “How patronizing.”

I sighed. “I’m not trying to patronize. I’m trying to be honest.”

“If we’re being honest, can I ask something?”

“Sure.”

She tapped her French-tipped nail against her chin. “Would blackmail work? To keep you playing, I mean.”

A chill ran down my spine. I was stunned by her suggestion. Shocked. More than a little pissed. “Well, that really is honest, isn’t it?” I eyed her carefully, looking for a sign that she might be bluffing. She did know my secrets, but would she really threaten to use them against me?

I saw none of her usual tells. While I felt a smidgeon of pride—oh, I’d taught her well—I mostly felt challenged. And I didn’t like to be challenged, therapy or not. “I believe I have as much on you, Celia, as you could have on me.”

A satisfactory smile slid across her lips. “Then we’re agreed—our secrets are safe?”

“As long as it’s mutual, then my lips are sealed.”

“Then mine are too.”

I left her apartment with more clarity than when I’d arrived. As much as I shouldn’t engage with Celia Werner any further, I knew now that I could never cut her completely from my life. For one, I wasn’t certain if she was actually a friend or a foe. And there was that old adage about keeping friends close and enemies closer.

But there was another thing—without the game, losing Celia would leave me entirely alone. And loneliness was one emotion I most desperately didn’t want to learn.

Chapter Twenty-Five

After

Simply making the decision to tell Alayna the truth takes away a good portion of my fear. I no longer have to debate and war with myself. I no longer have to hide, and I’m anxious to be with her again. So when I wrap up my business in L.A. earlier than I expected, I decide to fly back and surprise the woman I love. Yes, it means my secret will be exposed sooner than if I hadn’t pulled my weight to get my meetings scheduled on a Sunday, aka “off hours,” but I’m ready.

What I’m not ready for is the greeting that meets me when I arrive at The Sky Launch later that evening. I’d known she’d be here for David’s going away party, and, eager to see her, I headed straight over after landing. It had taken a few minutes to find her. She wasn’t with the rest of the guests who were mostly mingling by the bar and on the dance floor.

Instead, she’s tucked away in a corner. But she is dancing. Slow dancing. In David’s arms.

I watch them, mesmerized, unable to look away like is often the case when met with something horrible. Neither of them notice me, and from my vantage, I can’t see Alayna’s face. But I can see David’s. His eyes are closed, but his expression is tender and forlorn. He seems to be whispering into her ear—singing perhaps. If I ever doubted that he had feelings for her, I don’t now.

It’s simply a dance, I tell myself. Then he’s going away. It’s likely her way of saying goodbye. If I were a different man, I’d give them privacy.

But I’m not a different man. I’m this one. And I’m thoroughly possessive. So I’m still watching when they stop moving and make eye contact. And I see when he leans forward and kisses her.

It’s a moment of revelation. The first moment I feel absolute pain. There’s a wave of panic, accompanied by this crushing weight against my chest. It takes away all ability to move. All ability to breathe.

She pushes him away, and I should be grateful. But I’m still caught in the before. It replays in my head as if on constant repeat—her in his arms, his mouth against hers. Against the mouth that is mine. He doesn’t love her like I do. He can’t. It’s impossible. His feelings are small and inconsequential compared to the immense affection for her that travels through my body with one beat of my heart. He would have never let her go if he felt how I do.