The Bad Twin

by Avery Scott

  The unexpected command shocked Abby into sitting up.

  “Gabrielle?” she said without thinking.

  Hudson’s brow furrowed. “Her name is Gabrielle?”

  “No! Of course not,” Abby sputtered. “I just…I didn’t hear you. I…her name is Abagail.”

  “That must get confusing.”

  “Confusing?”

  “Your passport,” Hudson reminded her, “Abagail Suzette Levesque.”

  Abby’s eyes widened as she remembered the encounter with the Customs officer.

  “I…er…we…”

  Hudson’s intense stare didn’t make it any easier to think up a plausible lie.

  “Abagail Gabrielle,” she said finally. “Abagail is a family name. We, uhm, call her Gail.”

  “That makes no sense at all,” Hudson said with a frankness that startled her. He was smiling though. “I guess families never do.”

  “Not very often,” Abby agreed.

  “So. Tell me about her.”

  “Her?”

  “Gail. Abagail. Whatever you call her. What’s she like?”

  “We’re completely different.”

  “In looks?”

  “No. Not that… We look…surprisingly similar…just in the way she acts. The things she does…Gail is the responsible sister.”

  “You seem to have a responsible side. I confess that I didn’t see it until we got to Paris.”

  “Well, Gail is responsible all the time. Keeps me out of trouble. Makes me eat vegetables. Typical big sister stuff. She does all the cooking and cleaning. Takes care of bills. We have a lot of those. We’re constantly on the verge of losing the house.”

  Hudson frowned at the concern that suddenly streaked his assistant’s face. He didn’t like to think about her worrying about anything, least of all money. Perhaps there was something he could do? He was interested in making some purchases in Gabrielle’s neighborhood already. He made a mental note to look into what he could do to help.

  “She lives there with you?” Hudson asked to keep her talking. “Along with her husband and kids, I assume?”

  “No. No husband. No kids,” Abby’s lips twisted into a wry smile. “Gail doesn’t really do relationships.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because she doesn’t want to get hurt. Things are hard enough without adding that risk.”

  “Sometimes.” Hudson’s arm tightened around her waist and he kissed the top of her head. “Sometimes it’s worth it.”

  Abby snorted.

  “That doesn’t sound good. What happened?”

  Abby wished that she had just remained silent. “It’s nothing. We just didn’t have the greatest example growing up.”

  “You’ve never mentioned your mother and father.”

  “There’s not much to say. Mom left when I was five. Dad was never around.”

  “That’s why…Gail…doesn’t like men?”

  “I didn’t say she doesn’t like men. She just doesn’t like relationships. The women in my family…we do really stupid things for love.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Hudson watched his lover sleep. It was well past midnight before he drifted off himself. He woke up an hour before his alarm went off. His first inclination was to wake Gabrielle and have his way with her one more time before his call with the Tokyo office, but she looked too peaceful. He didn’t want to disturb his sleeping beauty. His. He let the word dance around in his head. There was no need in getting ahead of himself, but his night with Ms. Levesque had changed something. He didn’t want to mess up whatever that was.

  It was just past seven thirty when Gabrielle began to stir. He watched as she slowly came awake. First, she pulled the pillow over her head to block out the sunlight. She shifted position a few times, yawned and, after a quiet moan of protest, finally opened her eyes.

  “Good morning, sleepyhead.” Hudson got up from his chair to lay a kiss on her forehead. “Want a cup of coffee?”

  She seemed momentarily confused as she glanced at the clock and then blurted out, “Oh no! The call to the Japanese office. You’re late!”

  Hudson laughed. “They sent an email postponing. No worries. So, what about that cup of coffee?”

  “And one of those delicious chocolate-filled croissants they send up every morning?” she asked sheepishly, ducking beneath the bright white bed sheet.

  “Anything you want.” Hudson brought over a tray with her coffee and pastry and presented it with a playful bow. “Breakfast in bed.”

  “Aren’t you having anything?” Gabrielle asked.

  “I plan on it,” Hudson said, eyeing the beautiful blonde laying naked in his bed. He slid in beside her on the bed and pinned her beneath the sheet. He kissed her slow at first and then more greedily as his passion began to build, leaving her breathless.

  “Mmm, you keep that up and we won’t get anything done today at all,” she teased.

  “Did you notice the rollaway bed is gone?” Hudson asked with a smirk. “I guess the cleaning people are on to us.”

  The woman laughed. “Yes, I suppose they are.” Gabrielle looked at the clock again and frowned. “I suppose we need to head in to the office. I really don’t want to, but I guess I should go get ready.” She climbed out of bed and moved toward the closet, but Hudson intercepted her.

  “Maybe I’d like to keep you like this.” He moved to bestow another heavy kiss. When he pulled away he couldn’t keep from smiling.

  “You’re in a good mood.”

  “I’m having a good day.”

  “That’s impressive. It’s not even eight AM.”

  “Well, it’s almost two in Japan. They postponed the call because they just got a great deal on an apartment block in Osaka and need to pull some new numbers together. And I’m sure you saw what was sitting in our e-mail?”

  “Er…no,” his assistant admitted sheepishly, “I just woke up, after all.”

  “Marché d’Été is coming back to the table. I’m still not sure about what you said to Mr. Fougere but it worked. The family wants some time to run through the final numbers and talk to our valuations team, but the whole delegation is going to fly to New York to finish up next week.”

  “Just like that?”

  “Yep, just like that.”

  “So, that means…”

  “We can go home!” Hudson exclaimed. He picked Gabrielle off the floor and swung her around in a circle. He couldn’t wait to get her back home and see where things led.

  “That’s wonderful,” she said but something about the way her teeth clenched gave Hudson pause.

  “I thought you’d be happy.”

  “I am happy. I’m happy for you,” she said, but he got the distinct feeling she wasn’t being entirely truthful. He chalked it up to being sad about having to leave the place she had longed to visit her entire life.

  “Is there something you still want to do in Paris?” Hudson asked. “Dad wants me to meet with some bankers in Manhattan tomorrow afternoon, but that gives us the rest of today if you want to stick around.”

  “No. It’s okay. I’ll just throw on some clothes and pack my things.”

  “The hotel can do the packing,” Hudson said, dismissively. “Get dressed. I’ll take you to breakfast.”

  “I’m eating now!” She held up what was left of the croissant.

  “Shopping, then. This deal only worked out because of you. I think you deserve a present. Let me do something special.”

  “You already bought me more than I need. In fact, I never even wore some of it. Maybe we could send it back?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Get dressed.”

  Gabrielle finally relented and slinked off in the direction of the bathroom. Hudson watched her go. He briefly considered stripping off his suit and joining her in the shower, but she was giving off vibes that she wanted to be alone.

  Surely her mood would improve when she read Imogene’s e-mail. Mr. Fougere’s communication to the company had specifically sing
led out Gabrielle as the reason he felt comfortable entrusting his legacy to Quinn Holdings. The message was fairly tame, “Management is appreciative of Ms. Levesque’s efforts,” but Hudson could read between the lines. Imogene sent the e-mail at Walker Quinn’s direction, which meant that Hudson’s father had personally recognized Gabrielle’s value to the team.

  If professional kudos weren’t enough to brighten her mood, maybe a bauble from Cartier would work?

  A very masculine smile curled across Hudson’s lips as he imagined clasping a diamond necklace around Gabrielle’s throat and asking her to model said necklace- and nothing else- for his approval. Of course, he didn’t know if he would be able to content himself with simply the view for long. He had never been so addicted to a woman’s touch. They had only been together a handful of times and yet he craved her like a powerful drug.

  It wasn’t just her body that he enjoyed.

  Gabrielle Levesque was a beautiful woman. That was an objective fact, but Hudson had been with a lot of beautiful women. None of them had managed to capture his attention for more than a few days and often less than that. Arguably, most of them were after not only his good looks but his money and he thought Gabrielle was no different in the beginning. When they first met, he had dismissed Ms. Levesque as just another casual fling. Yes, this one was ostensibly his personal assistant, but he had hired her mostly to piss off his father. Nothing about their first few weeks together had offered any indication that she could be something more.

  She had blossomed in Paris. Maybe it was the fact that they spent so much time together. Maybe it was the way she had saved the day with Marché d’Été. Maybe it was just the magic of the City of Lights, but one moment he looked at her and everything had changed. She was smart. She was talented. She was interesting. Most of all, she made him a better version of himself. Talking with her the evening before about Colin made him realize how much he missed having someone to talk to. He didn’t deserve a woman like Gabrielle, but dear God, he wanted her.

  Hudson was tired of plastic women who said or did whatever it took to weasel their way into his life. They didn’t care about him, of course. It was his influence or- more often- his money that they were after. Sometimes it was a fair bargain, letting them hang off his arm at fancy parties and abuse his credit card for a few days in return for the anesthesia of meaningless sex. Gabrielle was different than those other girls. She was better. She was honest for a change. After a decade of fucking up, Hudson finally felt like he was doing something right. Yes, falling in love would be stupid, but he didn’t have to go that far. Surely, he could keep his emotions in check and avoid another mistake? Hudson chose to ignore the voice in his head that warned he was already a lost cause.

  “How do I look?”

  Gabrielle’s voice snapped Hudson out of his reverie. His eyes raked over her figure, drinking in the way that the Yves Saint Laurent dress nipped in at her waist and flared at her hips. It was a softer look than the structured suits that she had sported for most of the trip and he nodded his head in appreciation. It looked as if it’d been made just for her.

  “Luscious as ever.”

  “I was going to re-wear one of the other outfits, but the maids must have taken them away to be cleaned. I couldn’t find the dress that I wore on the way over.”

  Hopefully, the maids had it burned, Hudson thought, uncharitably. Gabrielle was the sort of woman who would be lovely in a plastic bag, but he wanted to keep her like this, dolled up like a princess- His princess.

  “I’ll make sure they find their way back to New York,” he said absently.

  “I separated out the things that still have tags,” she remarked, alluding to her ridiculous scheme to return the unworn garments.

  Hudson fought the urge to roll his eyes. Instead, he made a “Hmmm” sound and held out his arm.

  “Are you ready to go?”

  “Home?” A look of panic flashed across Gabrielle’s face.

  “Not just yet.”

  “What time does our plane leave?”

  “Whenever we want it to,” Hudson replied. “But we probably need to head out of here sometime tonight. We can sleep on the plane…Now, how do you want to spend your last day?”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Hudson and Abby ended up taking the elevator to the top of the Eiffel Tower and then ate lunch at a bistro in Montmartre, two quintessential tourist activities that Hudson had never experienced on his previous visits to the French capital. After lunch, they strolled the cobblestone streets for half an hour and then wound their way back toward the River Seine. It was romantic and everything Abby had ever imagined when she pictured strolling the streets of France as a young girl.

  A cruise on the flat-bottomed barges that the French called “bateaux mouches” was last on the agenda, but their timing was off. A boat pulled away just as they stepped out of the car. Rather than wait two hours for the next one, Hudson used the excuse to whisk Abby away to the jewelry store.

  “I really don’t need anything,” Abby protested as the car pulled up in front of a building on Rue de la Paix.

  Stepping inside, Abby was struck by how different the store looked than she had imagined. Unlike the jewelry stores at a mall or even the Tiffany store in Manhattan that she had peeked inside for a lark, there were no long glass cases full of glittering jewels or swarms of salesclerks offering to showcase the wares. The interior was stately, with burnished walnut-paneled walls and crimson carpets covering the parquet floor, but emptier than she would have expected. Mahogany cases with brass locks were placed about the room. Each case contained only a few glittering pieces, carefully arranged on a bed of white velvet.

  A salesclerk was stationed on the far side of the room, standing between a pair of display cabinets with his hands clasped behind his back and staring straight ahead like a guard at Buckingham Palace. He ignored them. Abby was about to remark about his rudeness when a woman in a black dress appeared from behind a curtain.

  “Monsieur Quinn? So good to see you,” she said in lightly accented English. “We are expecting you. This way, please.”

  Abby trailed behind Hudson and the woman as they ascended a red-carpeted staircase and were led into a well-lit private room furnished with leather chairs and a broad leather-topped desk. A closed-door was in the back of the room.

  The woman directed them to sit down and then disappeared for a moment, returning with a tray of tea and macarons. A split second later, the door in the rear of the chamber opened and a stranger walked inside, carrying a tray draped in white silk. The newcomer was not a tall man but carried himself with purposeful elegance. His slight frame was encased in a perfectly tailored suit, and his large nose was lifted a fraction of an inch higher than normal, giving the impression that he was looking down on the customers when he spoke.

  “Monsieur Quinn,” the man exclaimed as if they were old friends, “Always a pleasure, and your delightful companion.” The man captured Abby’s hand and lifted it to his lips. “I am Henri, the head jeweler and I am very pleased to assist you today. Let us begin, shall we?” Henri said as his female assistant topped off the teacups and took up a discrete position near the door. “I have selected some very special items for your consideration. They are a…how do you say it? ‘jumping-off point’? When I know what Mademoiselle prefers perhaps I can bring others more to her liking?”

  Henri made a show of removing the silk covering with a flourish.

  Abby gasped when he revealed a tray full of sparkling rings. One, in particular, caught her eye, and she reached for it without thinking: a vintage yellow-gold piece with an enormous round-cut center diamond encircled by a wreath of sapphires.

  Engagement rings. Realization shot through Abby with a jolt, just as she heard Hudson’s voice behind her:

  “I’m afraid there’s been a mistake.”

  Abby didn’t turn her head, but she had the impression that Hudson was speaking through clenched teeth.

  Henri turned to the w
oman standing by the door and began conversing with her in rapid French. They were whispering, but Abby was able to make out most of what they said.

  “They aren’t here for an engagement ring?”

  “Apparently not.”

  “I didn’t think they had the look. He’s here to buy her some bauble to keep her quiet. She must be his mistress.”

  “I’m Mister Quinn’s personal assistant,” Abby interjected testily. Obviously, the jewelers had no idea that she could understand them.

  Henri was momentarily abashed, but he quickly recovered. “Oh, Mademoiselle speaks French? Wonderful!” the head jeweler said in a tone that implied he did not find it wonderful at all. He continued to address his customers in English, no doubt because he had correctly deduced that Hudson was the one with the credit card. “I am so sorry for the misunderstanding Mademoiselle, Monsieur. What brings you here today?”

  “This is Ms. Levesque’s first visit to Paris. We’ve just closed a major business deal and want to celebrate the occasion. Do you have something more appropriate for that type of event?”

  “Yes, of course. A bracelet perhaps? A watch? Or…” Abby looked up when she felt Henri’s eyes on her. She realized with embarrassment that she was still holding the ring that she had plucked off of his tray earlier. “Rings do not necessarily need to symbolize an upcoming wedding. It’s exquisite, isn’t it? This piece recently returned to our collection from a celebrity. It was crafted in 1953. They say the diamond in the center is a jewel from one of Empress Josephine’s tiaras.”

  “It’s quite lovely, but no,” Abby said in a small voice as she quickly returned the jewel to its tray. “I think a watch would be more appropriate.”

  “As you wish. If you would be so kind as to wait…”

  Henri and his counterpart took the tray of jewels and scurried out of the back door.

  As soon as they were alone, Abby spun around to face Hudson. “I’m so sorry!”

  “It wasn’t your mistake,” Hudson reassured her.

  “Yes…but if anything I said or did gave them the impression that we…that you were going to…I mean, I don’t want you to think that just because of what happened that I expect…”