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Hudson

 Fixed - 4

Laurelin Paige

Chapter One

I sign in on the form and hand the clipboard back to the volunteer manning the desk.

The young man’s brows rise in recognition of my name. “Mr. Pierce!” He stands from his seat and sticks out his hand to shake mine. “I didn’t expect it would be you representing Pierce Industries. I thought you’d send someone. ”

I shake his hand, out of politeness, then force a stiff smile. “Surprise. ” God, I hate small talk. Especially from this twenty-two year old ass-kisser who likely hopes this interaction will earn him employment at my company. I’m afraid it’s not that easy to even get an interview.

He lowers his focus to the nametags on the table, searching for the one with the Pierce Industries logo. He hands it to me, and I pocket it. I refuse to wear it. I’m easily enough recognized without advertising it.

The man—nothing more than a boy, really—seems disappointed. Whether it’s because I’m not as charismatic or charming as he’d imagined or because I dismissed the damn nametag, I can’t be certain. Frankly, I don’t give a shit. Once upon a time, his emotions would have elicited more interest from me. Now, they’re barely a blip on my radar. I’ll never understand them. No point in wasting my time trying.

His smile is professional as he gives me the portfolio for the evening’s presentation. At the same time, I feel a small hand press into my back. I tense. I know that hand.

I glance behind me, confirming my suspicion as I start toward the lecture hall.

“I’m already here. I thought I’d stay. ” As she trots to keep up with me, Celia’s heels echo on the marble floor of the Kauffman Management Center, the house of NYU’s Stern School of Business.

I stop at the door to the hall and turn to her. “You weren’t invited. ”

Her lids flutter ever so slightly, and I know my words have stung. “You could invite me. We rarely see each other anymore. ” She lowers her voice. “I miss you. ”

My jaw ticks, and I let out a slow breath. Celia is the one person I’ve been advised not to spend time with. She’s also the one person who understands me better than anyone else. It’s a war I wage daily—being with her is akin to being a drunk in a liquor store. She tempts me to indulge in wicked ways, even if she doesn’t intend to. And I’m certain that she usually does intend to.

But she’s my only friend, if that’s what you would call our relationship. Without her, I’m all alone.

“Fine; you’re invited,” I resign. I open the door and hold it for her to walk through. “I don’t know why you want to be here. These things are boring as hell. ”

I follow her down a row toward the back of the room and take two seats in the middle. The hall is small, and there are less than ten other corporate representatives currently seated. We could easily move closer, but Celia knows me well enough to understand that I prefer to be removed from situations such as these.