Fixed on You (7 page)

“I’m outside your building,”
Brian said.

“Hello to you, too.”  Never any
small talk for Brian. I hit the elevator call button and waited.

“Whatever, sassafrass. We have
reservations in fifteen minutes at The Peacock Alley. Are you ready?”

I rolled my eyes at his
restaurant choice. How unoriginal of him to pick the Waldorf. “Already on my
way down. You know, you could have used the apartment buzzer instead of
calling.”

“But then you couldn’t walk and
talk like you are.”

“And I’m about to lose you now as
I get in the elevator. See you in a sec.” I wasn’t certain that the elevator
would cause our call to drop, but I was facing a whole lunch hour with Brian. I
needed the fifty-second reprieve.

“There she is,” Brian said to no
one when I walked out of the front door of my apartment building. The apartment
had been Brian’s pick since he was footing the bill, and I was sure that its
proximity to the Waldorf had been half of the reason he’d chosen it. No one
could mistake the place as classy, but the location was killer. My only gripe
was the lack of a subway to the west side, but that only became a problem in
bad weather.

“Hey, Bri,” I said throwing my
arms around him. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too.” He pulled away and
looked me up and down. “You look terrible, Laynie. Like you need more sleep.”

“Gee, thanks.” We started toward
the restaurant. “I didn’t get off work until five. Yeah, I’m a bit tired.”

“Isn’t it time you started
working a more normal job? Something nine to five like?”

“I work nine to five. Just not
the same nine to five you work.” As if Brian worked nine to five. He was a
workaholic, often burning the midnight oil working on his latest case. If his
paralegal hadn’t been his type, he never would have gotten married. The man had
no social life. I’d be surprised to learn he had a sex life, even with a new
wife.

“You know what I mean.”

We’d only been together five
minutes and he was already picking. If that was an indicator of how lunch was
going to go, I’d rather skip the meal and get right to whatever bug was up his
ass. “What brings you out here, Brian?”

He studied me, deciding whether
to show his cards yet or not. He chose not. “Can’t a brother come visit his
only sister on a whim? I still feel bad for missing your graduation.”

I hid my eye roll. He could have
made my graduation if he’d wanted to, and we both knew it. But we had to play
the game of happy family. “You’re a busy hotshot lawyer. I get it.”

“I sense the sarcasm in your
voice, Laynie.”

My brother excelled at reading
people, making him a force to be reckoned with in the courtroom. “Okay, I was
pissed you didn’t come. Does that make you happy?” Actually, I’d been hurt.
He’d had the date for almost nine months. How could I not feel low priority?
“I’m over it now, though, so forget it.”

We’d reached the hotel, which
gave us the perfect chance to drop the subject. At the restaurant, we were
seated right away, and I let the new environment transform me from outwardly
brooding to introspective. 

I deliberated for a long time
about my menu choice, annoying Brian who knew what he wanted instantly. When
the tempo of his leg bouncing under the table accelerated, I settled on a house
salad. God, the man had no patience. He should take a lesson from Hudson.

The thought of Hudson brought
warmth to my body and a furrow to my brow. Something was poking at the edge of
my thoughts, something I couldn’t quite grasp.

Brian chatted with me casually,
keeping me from focusing on what perplexed me about Hudson.  He briefly told me
about a case he was working on and about the renovations he and Monica had done
to their brownstone.

When he’d finished a decent
portion of his meal, about the same time I thought I’d shoot myself over the
banality of our conversation, Brian cleared his throat. “Laynie, I’m not here to
catch up. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about our situation lately and have
realized that you’re a grown woman with an excellent education. It’s time for
you to assume more responsibility for yourself. I’m not doing you a favor by
enabling you.”

I took a long swallow of my
water, contemplating how to react to his sudden statement. Old connotations of
the word “enable” stung me. Was he insinuating that I wasn’t well? And how was
I not responsible for myself? I was living and working in the Big Apple—if that
didn’t take responsibility, I didn’t know what did. 

Ever impatient, Brian didn’t wait
for me to choose my response. “I can’t let you throw your life away at a
nightclub. You are too vulnerable to work in that type of establishment.”

The Sky Launch. Brian had never
liked me working there, not from day one. But he’d accepted it because I’d kept
out of trouble. Had he now forgotten? “I haven’t had any issues since I’ve
worked there.”

“You had school to keep you
occupied. You need something more challenging to focus on.”

Never mind that I’d worried about
the exact same thing myself, I was pissed. “Brian, I know how to handle my
triggers. And what do you know about it? You never went to any support
meetings.”

His voice rose uncomfortably high
for the serene surroundings. “Because I’m not your parent!”

That was the crux of the whole
conversation. Brian had been forced into parenting me and I’d always suspected
he resented me for it. Now I knew for sure.

He stared at his near empty
plate. When he spoke again it was quieter. “Look, Monica’s having a baby.”

And everything clicked into
understanding. I was being replaced. “Congratulations.”

“I need to focus my energy and
money on her and the baby. It’s time for you to be grown-up.” He straightened
in his seat, as if to strengthen his position. “I’m not paying for the
apartment anymore.”

“But I can’t afford to pay for
the apartment! Not right now with my student loans about to be due.” I was painfully
aware that I sounded petulant and spoiled, but I had always assumed he’d help
me for a while longer. It wasn’t like he didn’t have the money.

“Then maybe you better look for a
better paying job.”

“Brian, that’s not fair.” 

“Think about everything I’ve been
through with you and then talk to me about fair.”

He couldn’t have hurt me more
with any other words. “I haven’t had any problems in a long time,” I whispered.

“You violated a restraining
order.”

“Over four years ago!”

“I’m sorry, Laynie. I can’t
support you anymore.” His words were final. He’d made his decision; there would
be no convincing him otherwise.

I saw what it had done to him,
the years of caring for a mentally disturbed sibling. I’d known—I’d always
known—but had never wanted to believe that my actions had hurt him so deeply.
It stirred an old ache I had buried.

But I was also angry. I might not
be fragile anymore, but I certainly wasn’t steady on my own. Not financially
anyway. I needed his support now as much as ever and as shitty as it was, he
was my only family. I had no one else.

I threw my napkin on the table
and, not sure if I hoped to sound more sincere or snotty, said, “Thanks, Brian.
Thanks for everything.” I grabbed my purse from the back of my chair and walked
out of The Peacock Alley, careful not to look back. I wanted to appear strong
and stoic. Turning back would give my brother a good look at my tears.

I let myself cry until I left the
hotel. Once on the street, the city bustle and grit steeled me. I didn’t need
Brian. I could do it on my own. Sure he’d helped me foot the bill since my
crazy antics had ran through all of my inheritance money, but support and
responsibility was much more than throwing cash around.

I hurried back to my apartment,
aware that Brian didn’t try to stop me or call me. I spent the next hour behind
my computer, figuring out my bills and expenses, searching for ways to make
cuts. With a promotion at the club—which wasn’t guaranteed—I could pay for my
apartment. But I wouldn’t be able to afford my student loans when they went
into repayment the next month.

Brian had effectively trapped me.
Not a bad strategy. The Laynie from a day before would have to give into his
wishes, taking a job at one of the high paying corporate offices that had
pursued me at graduation.

Fortunately, I had another
option.

Taking a deep breath, I picked up
my cell phone and pushed redial. God, was I really doing this? I was. And if I
was honest about it, I was glad for the excuse. Maybe I really should have been
thanking Brian.

The number Hudson had called the
night before rang only once before he answered. “Alayna.” His voice was smooth
and sexy. Not sexy like he was coming on to me but like the sex he exuded
naturally.

The confidence threw me. “Uh, hi,
Hudson.”

I paused.

“Is there something I can help
you with?” I sensed he enjoyed my uncertainty. Why couldn’t I display the same
confidence he did? I never had anxiety issues at work or at school.

The thought of school jostled
something and I blurted out the question that had niggled at me during lunch.
“How did you know I was intelligent?”

I heard a creak and I pictured
him leaning back in a leather chair behind an executive desk. “What do you
mean?”

“You said I was…” I blushed, glad
he couldn’t see me. “Beautiful and intelligent—“

He interrupted me. “Exquisitely
beautiful and extremely intelligent.”

“Yeah, that.” Having heard them
before made his words no less effective. The matter-of-fact manner of his
statement should have felt clinical and cold, but they were anything but. A
shiver ran up my spine. I cleared my throat. “But you’ve barely talked to me.
How do you know anything about my intelligence?”

He paused only briefly. “The
graduate symposium at Stern. I saw you present.”

“Oh.” The symposium had been held
a month before graduation and had featured the top students from the MBA
program. Each of us had presented a new or innovative idea for a panel of
experts. My presentation had been called
Print Marketing in a Digital Age
. I
hadn’t wanted to know who was on the panel, knowing that names would send me
into obsessive researching and online stalking. Afterward, the experts and
presenters were invited to a wine and cheese soiree, so that students could
schmooze and corporate execs could make job offers. I’d presented for the experience.
For the honor. I hadn’t wanted a job, so I’d skipped the after affair.

Now I wondered what would have
happened if I’d gone. Would Hudson have tracked me down? Was it entirely
coincidental that he’d made an offer on the club I worked for around the same
time as the symposium?

“Is that the only reason you
called, Alayna?” His all-business words held a hint of a tease.

“No.” I closed my eyes and
clutched onto the side of my desk for support. Accepting his offer was harder
than it should be. I couldn’t help but feel it was too easy of an out—like I
was selling my soul to the devil.

But I also felt a surge of excitement,
a thick electric wave of freedom. “Your proposition—I’d like to do it. I’m
saying yes.” Remembering his other proposition to seduce me, I clarified. “Your
offer to pay my student loans, I mean.”

His chair creaked again and I
imagined him standing, his hand thrust in the pocket of an Italian suit. Ah,
yum. “I’m very happy to hear that, Alayna.”

I shook the vision out of my head
and waited for him to say more. When he didn’t, I said, “So what happens now?”

“I have time in my schedule at
four-thirty. Come to my office at Hudson Industries then and we’ll finalize the
details.”

I’d get to see him in—I looked at
my watch—two hours. My heart sped up. “Sounds nice. I mean, good. Sounds good.”

He chuckled. “Goodbye, Alayna.”

“Bye.” I hugged the phone for
several seconds after he hung up, mesmerized by this stranger’s effect on me,
wondering if I’d be able to pull off the scam he’d concocted, hopeful I’d be
able to thwart his promised advances.

All right, maybe I didn’t hope
for that last one, but I wanted to believe I did. For my sanity’s sake.

I also thought about the
symposium, considering the possibility that Hudson Pierce had gone to greater
lengths than he’d let on to set up this facade for his parents.

Maybe the thought should have
scared me. But it only intrigued me more.

Two hours turned out to be barely
enough time to prepare for seeing Hudson. I spent a long time in the shower,
shaving my legs and underarms and cleaning up my Brazilian, chastising myself
as I did since there was no way Hudson was going to see my lady parts.   

Then I stood in front of my
closet for what felt like hours. I’d be going straight from Hudson’s office to
the club to meet with David then a full shift of bartending after that. I
needed the perfect blend of smart and sexy with a dash of fuck-me-please—for
work, of course. Finally I settled on a belted teal and black shirt dress. It
was shorter than I would have liked for the business part of my plans, but
still longer than most of the dresses I wore at the club. I pulled my hair into
a low ponytail and kept my makeup to mascara and lip gloss. I looked good—fresh
and natural.

Having been too distracted to ask
Hudson where Pierce Industries was located, I had to Google it. Turned out the
offices were near the One Worldwide Plaza, a straight subway shot to the club.
From my apartment, I took a cab, not wanting to get sweaty. And, hey, I was
getting eighty thousand dollars—I could afford a taxi to the West Side.

I’d been by the beautiful
copper-topped granite and brick building many times, but never inside it.
Pierce Industries took the top several floors, and I recognized some of the
other tenants listed in the lobby as Pierce Industry subsidiaries. I got
directions from the security guard and took the elevator to the top floor.