Beauty and the Billionaire

by Jessica Clare

  Daphne sucked in a breath, steeling herself. She knocked.

  And waited.

  There was nothing for a long, long minute. Then, what sounded like a flurry of laughing female voices floated toward the door. A moment later, the door opened and a smiling Gretchen stood there, looking the same as she always did: slightly disheveled, a pair of nerd glasses perched on her nose, and dressed in yoga pants. Daphne felt a pang of envy. No matter what went on, Gretchen always seemed to be laughing.

  That laughter died at the sight of Daphne on the doorstep.

  “Um, surprise.” Daphne held out the plant. She couldn’t even muster her “on” personality, the one she used to get through meet and greets. This was her sister; there was no pretending around her.

  Gretchen’s wide-eyed gaze swept up and down Daphne. “Holy shit. Oh. Holy shit.”

  Daphne shivered a little on the doorstep. It was snowy and she hadn’t exactly dressed to be standing on the porch for an hour. “Is this a bad time?”

  “Oh my god, are you kidding?” Gretchen reached forward and grabbed Daphne under her arm. A moment later, Daphne’s face was squished into Gretchen’s shoulder and the poinsettia sandwiched between them. “Daph! You look amazing! What are you doing here?”

  Weirdly enough, hot tears started to flood her eyes. No recrimination? No chastising? She’d expected a lecture from her sister about all the bad choices she’d made in her life, but this was Gretchen. Gretchen forgave easily. It was her twin, Audrey, that would be the more difficult one to convince. “Hey, sis. I thought I’d come by and wish you a merry Christmas.”

  “I can’t believe you’re in New York! This is perfect!”

  “It is?” Daphne hugged Gretchen back. Her mind was full of conflicting feelings. She was happy that Gretchen was clearly thrilled to see her . . . and a little guilty that she’d been in New York for a few weeks now and hadn’t stopped by. Then again, she’d been told by Audrey—her fucking twin—that she needed to never contact them again. She’d listened, even though it hurt. Daphne knew she’d fucked up things badly.

  Of course, she didn’t know why she was feeling guilty—here they were having a grand time and no one had even bothered to send her a text message for the last freaking year.

  But when Gretchen squeezed Daphne tight again, it was okay. The past was past, and she knew she’d been a jerk. There was no place for hurt feelings. She’d learned that in therapy. She’d burned a lot of bridges and if people weren’t interested in being in her life anymore, she couldn’t really blame them.

  Didn’t mean it didn’t hurt, of course.

  “Come on in!” Gretchen said excitedly, tugging Daphne forward. “Hunter’s not here or I’d introduce you. You haven’t met my baby, have you? He’s the best.” She beamed at Daph.

  Daphne held the poinsettia awkwardly, not quite sure what to do with it. There were a bunch of women standing in the hallway, wearing aprons and giving her curious looks. One or two whispered behind their hands, and Daphne hoped that was just because they’d recognized her and not something worse. Still made her uncomfortable. “Is this a bad time?”

  “Oh, silly. When have you ever cared about that?” Gretchen grinned at her sister and then sobered when she realized Daphne wasn’t laughing with her. “Sorry. What I meant to say was no, it’s not a bad time. We’re doing some holiday baking.”

  “Because she keeps firing her caterers,” a tiny woman with dark hair wearing a bright red cardigan pointed out. “Which wouldn’t be a problem except she has a wedding of two hundred people in four days and no one to bake for her.”

  “It’s Christmas, Greer,” Gretchen retorted. “If they can’t make a fucking croquembouche for a fucking wedding, then they don’t deserve to cater me.”

  A girl in a Doctor Who scarf chimed in. “I can’t make a croquembouche either.”

  “You hush, Taylor.” Gretchen linked her arm with Daphne’s and hauled her sister forward. “Come on. You can help with the caramel.”

  The herd of women chatted and laughed as they headed back into the house, and Daphne eyed her surroundings with surprise. Her flighty older sister had done really well for herself. The house was enormous and tastefully decorated with a mix of new and old. And the kitchen they led her into? Like something out of a storybook, right down to the heaps of batter-filled bowls.

  Daphne set the poinsettia down on the counter. “So . . . what do you want me to do? I can sing Christmas carols and even do some dancing, but I’m warning you, cooking is not part of my repertoire.”

  “That’s fine! You can just hand me shit.” Gretchen went to the counter and picked up a bowl, barely glancing at it as she beat the batter. “I can’t believe you’re here. So tell me what you’re working on!”

  Gretchen’s smile seemed genuine, and Daphne relaxed a little. “The label wants me to work on a Christmas album. It’s a bit late for it to come out this year, but they want to make sure I have enough time to recover and get set on track.” She didn’t point out that right now the label didn’t trust her to headline an expensive tour and not fall to pieces midway. She didn’t blame them. She didn’t exactly have a great track record. So, yeah, she was stuck with a cheesy Christmas album as her next work. It meant that she wouldn’t be able to release new content for at least a year after that, and for some reason . . . she was okay with that. Being on tour was a never-ending stream of parties and people and she didn’t want to deal with it. Not yet.

  When that happened, Wesley would be out of her life for good, because then she would be firmly on the road to recovery. Brokenhearted and lonely, sure, but in recovery.

  “Hey, Gretchen?” An all-too-familiar voice called out from another room. “I just looked up croquembouche on my phone and Martha Stewart’s recipe says you should make it as late as possible because—” Audrey entered the kitchen, caught sight of Daphne, and froze.

  Oh. Daphne stared at her twin with a bit of yearning. Since she’d seen her last, Audrey had gotten softer, her face rounder. Some of it was from the baby she’d had a few months ago, but it was so strange to see her twin’s face and realize that they looked like each other again, right down to the shade of hair and the firm line of her mouth. And that . . . just made everything that much more painful.

  Growing up, they’d been impossibly close. She’d slept next to her sister, they’d shared clothes, read each other’s diaries, and had no secrets. But somewhere along the way, they’d had grown apart, and as Daphne’s career took off, her relationship with her twin crumbled. Daphne got into drugs and alcohol and partying, and Audrey? Audrey got more and more “responsible.” She worked sixty hours a week, volunteered on weekends, and pretty much disapproved of everything Daphne did. The last time Daphne had overdosed, she’d had the hospital call Audrey, and Audrey had fucking abandoned her.

  Even now, after months and months of therapy, rehab, and time to lick her wounds, it still hurt like crazy. She’d thought if anyone would have her back forever and ever, it would be her twin. Guess not. And part of her therapy was to forgive and to understand. To realize that she’d screwed over people along the way and hurt feelings, and forgive them if they no longer wanted anything to do with her. Most of the time she could do that. Most of the time, she understood.

  But looking at the face so similar to her own and seeing Audrey’s expression shutter? Realizing that her twin still hated her?

  Some things still hurt. A lot.

  ***

  Gretchen nervously beat the batter in her bowl, watching the twins stare each other down. She had no idea what to do or which side to take. On her left, there was Daphne—impulsive cokehead and general ne’er-do-well. Except she’d turned over a new leaf and looked happier and healthier than she had in years—and there was clearly devastation in her eyes. On Gretchen’s right, there was Audrey—responsible, dependable, no-frills Audrey, who had picked up the pieces so many ti
mes when Daphne had fallen apart. Judging from the look on her face? She wasn’t ready to give Daphne another shot.

  So . . . Gretchen had no idea what to do. Tell a joke? Force one twin to assemble croquembouche trees while the other dripped caramel? Fling her arms into the air and run away screaming? She nervously mixed batter, her mind whirling. The bridesmaids had gone silent, and the tension in the air was thick.

  “Anyone want to taste test these?” Gretchen called out, and then gave a high-pitched, nervous laugh that sounded screechy and awful even to her own ears.

  “You okay, Gretch?” Edie arched an eyebrow at her.

  Meanwhile, the twins kept staring, oblivious.

  Yeah, it was definitely time to do something. She stepped forward and pushed her bowl into Edie’s arms. “Go croquembouche away. I need to talk to my sisters for a few.” Before Edie could protest, Gretchen turned, grabbed each twin by the arm, and hauled them out of the kitchen. “Hold down the fort, Greer!”

  “Me?” Greer protested. “I don’t know how to cook.”

  “Yeah, but you’re the wedding planner,” Chelsea said. “Plan us, baby!”

  Laughter broke out behind them. Her friends would be fine. It was her family that was going to fuck shit up if they didn’t get whatever this was out of their systems.

  Both women were silent as she led them down the hall. Luckily, one of Buchanan Manor’s many studies was located near the kitchen and Gretchen steered her sisters in there and shut the door behind them. “Okay, so I feel like we should talk, guys.”

  Audrey crossed her arms and gave Gretchen an icy look. She deliberately avoided looking over at Daphne. “I don’t know that there’s anything left to say.”

  Awkward.

  “Maybe—” Gretchen began.

  “I’ve got something to say,” Daphne interrupted.

  Oh boy. Gretchen braced herself for the worst, and as she watched, Audrey visibly stiffened.

  Daphne looked at Gretchen, and then Audrey. Her face softened and her eyes shone with tears. “I think you look great, Aud. So happy.” She smiled at Gretchen. “You, too. I’m so happy for both of you.”

  Gretchen could feel her eyes watering and she sniffed hard.

  “Don’t,” Audrey said, raising a hand. “Just . . . don’t do this, okay?”

  The hurt look returned to Daphne’s face. “Do what?”

  Audrey closed her eyes, her face hard. “Don’t try and be all sweet to get back into our good graces.”

  “She shouldn’t?” Gretchen asked, giving her sisters a worried look.

  “No,” Audrey said flatly. “She shouldn’t. She had her chance a dozen times and each time she swore she would change. And each time, the moment she didn’t get her way, she went right back to her old ways. And I’m done with it. I’m done with crying over you, worrying over you. I’m done with hurting over you. I have a family, Daphne. I’m happy. And I don’t see room for you in it.”

  Daphne flinched.

  “Maybe she’s turned over a new leaf,” Gretchen suggested, her heart hurting for Daphne. “I mean, you look good, Daph. Very healthy, and—”

  “And she’s looked that way before and slid,” Audrey retorted. “I have to question the timing.”

  Daphne’s brows drew together and she crossed her arms, and for a moment, she looked stunningly like Audrey. “Wait. What timing? Christmas? Can I help it if I fucking wanted to see my family for the holiday?”

  “Not Christmas! The wedding!” Audrey jabbed a finger in Gretchen’s direction. “Are you trying to fuck this up for her?”

  “What? No!” Daphne gave Gretchen an aghast look. “Why would I do that? I just want you guys to be happy.”

  “I don’t believe you,” Audrey said, and this time, her voice wobbled. “That’s the problem, Daphne. I never believe what you say anymore. I can’t trust you. And it doesn’t matter how many times you come back smiling and ready to make amends, because we’ve been hurt so many damn times with you!” She gestured frantically at Gretchen and herself. “If you were in our positions, would you trust?”

  “No,” Daphne said, and her voice was small and aching. “I guess not.”

  Oh god, she had to say something. Daphne looked as if she were ready to cry. Audrey looked as if she were ready to cry, too. What could she say to break them out of this funk? “Hey,” she croaked out. “Look at the bright side. There might not be a wedding to break up in a few days.”

  Then, because that sounded so dire, Gretchen burst into tears.

  “Oh my goodness,” Audrey said, hurrying forward. The motherly tone was in her voice—ironic, considering that Gretchen was older. “What are you talking about?”

  “Come sit down,” Daphne soothed. Her hand went to Gretchen’s arm and she gently steered her toward one of the chaises peppering the study. “You’ve just got bridal nerves. Everyone gets that.”

  “It’s nerves,” Gretchen agreed, wiping her face with her hand. “And . . .” She thought back to the woman in Hunter’s office the other day. “I think someone’s trying to blackmail him into not marrying me.”

  “What? How could someone possibly not want him to marry you?”

  “Right?” Gretchen wailed. “I’m fucking fabulous!”

  Daphne rubbed Gretchen’s back. “What do you mean, blackmail?”

  So Gretchen cried and blew her nose in the tissue Audrey handed her, and told the story. About how the woman had sauntered into Hunter’s office with pictures of some kind, and their conversation had been suspicious, and it was clear that whatever it was, the blackmailer was putting a high price tag on things that Hunter didn’t want to pay. “It’s awful,” Gretchen declared. “I can’t believe someone’s blackmailing my sweet Hunter.”

  The twins were silent.

  Gretchen blew her nose again. When they remained silent, she got suspicious. “What?”

  “Is it possible . . .” Daphne began delicately.

  “. . . That he’s cheating on you?” Audrey’s voice was no-nonsense. “And that’s what the blackmail is about?”

  “What?” Gretchen gasped and lurched to her feet. She pushed off their well-meaning arms. “No! Absolutely not! Hunter would never look at another woman. He loves me.” She shook her head. “You guys are insane. That man worships the ground I walk on.” After all, she’d punched Hunter’s V-card for him. She’d helped him start to get out of Buchanan Manor every now and then instead of hiding away from the world. He’d bred roses for her. He’d refused to get a prenuptial agreement repeatedly even though Gretchen had suggested it. He loved her. More than anything.

  She knew him, and she knew that wasn’t it. She shook her head. “It has to be blackmail of some kind.” She turned to Daphne, a beseeching look on her face. “You’re the expert. What should I do?”

  “Me?” Daphne put her hands on her chest. “How am I the expert on blackmail?”

  Audrey snort-giggled.

  Daphne shot her an irritated look.

  Gretchen waved all of that aside. “Not on blackmail. On being sneaky. On men. This one here’s terrible at dating.” She gestured at Audrey. “Married the first guy that looked in her direction.”

  “Hey,” Audrey protested. “Why are we bagging on me suddenly? And I’ll have you both know that Reese is amazing. He’s got the baby today and hasn’t complained a bit.”

  “How is the baby?” Daphne’s expression was wistful. “Do you have pictures?”

  Audrey hesitated. Then, she pulled out her phone and began to scroll through. “I’m not very good at taking photos, but here’s one of—”

  “Hey, can we focus on me here?” Gretchen snapped. “The woman in crisis? Hello?”

  “Sorry,” Daphne said, but she didn’t put the phone down as Audrey reached over and flipped through photos. “What do you want to do, Gretchen? I’m happy to help, whatever it is
. Do you need me to hire you a private investigator?”

  Gretchen shook her head. “I get married in a matter of days. I just . . .” she wrung her hands, shredding the tissue she was holding. “I want to help him and he won’t talk to me.”

  “You want my advice?” Audrey asked. “Maybe it’s not blackmail at all. Maybe you’re just misunderstanding.”

  “Sure sounded like blackmail,” Gretchen said dubiously. She thought of the woman’s smug look as she walked in. The look of horror on Hunter’s face as he glanced over at Gretchen. He . . . looked like a man caught. But he loved her. She knew that and she didn’t doubt it in the slightest. It had to be something, but what? “I just want him to talk to me about it. Whatever it is, we can work it out together.”

  “Seduction,” Daphne said, flipping through the pictures on the phone. A high-pitched squeal escaped her a moment later. “Oh my god, look at her face! She’s so cute, Aud!” She touched her cheek, a teary expression on her face. “She looks just like you. And me. Oh crap, this is too much.”

  Audrey’s firm mouth twitched a little, tension easing. “I think she looks like Reese.”

  “What do you mean, seduction?” Gretchen asked, snapping her fingers. “Can we focus?”

  “Sorry,” both twins said at once, and then exchanged a startled look.

  Daphne cleared her throat a moment later. “I mean, seduce it out of him. Wild, dirty sex. If it’s something that’s bothering him, he’ll feel guilty. And most men aren’t able to keep a secret when a woman’s going down on him.”

  Audrey hmmed. “She does have a point.”

  Gretchen rubbed her hands. “Okay, so attack Hunter the moment I see him. Like that’ll be hard? I do that anyhow.”

  “Yes, but kick things up a notch,” Daphne advised. “Turn it up to eleven. And then withhold from him.”