by Avery Scott
Hudson scowled out the window for the better part of an hour before deciding to pick up the phone. He called Imogene and kept the conversation brief, offering only the details she needed to know. There was no reason to relive what went wrong during their lunch meeting or to rehash the colossal mistake that Gabrielle had made. It wasn’t a huge surprise when he discovered halfway through their call that Imogene had already spoken to Hudson’s father. She announced that she was sending over documents that he hadn’t even asked for yet. The woman was efficient. That much was certain.
Why couldn’t he have hired someone like Imogene instead of Gabrielle? What was he thinking when he picked up a random stranger who happened to speak French and hired her on the spot? Hudson didn’t have to dwell on the question for long. He knew exactly how it happened. He was thinking with his dick instead of his brain. If he had only known then, when he first met her, what he knew now… he’d like to think he’d do something different, but Hudson had too much self-awareness. Blunders and screw-ups aside, there was something captivating about Ms. Levesque. He was drawn to her like a moth to a flame- captivated, even though he knew he was going to get burned. Her strange transformation since their arrival in Paris was maddening, but intriguing at the same time. Once, he had thought she was just like every other socialite, party girl he knew, but she was very different now. Sure, she was possibly the worst personal assistant in the history of the profession, but he still couldn’t bring himself to wish that they had never met.
Why had she shown Mr. Fougere that report? Hudson’s mind still boggled at the sheer stupidity of the move. He had personally instructed Gabrielle when the document was drafted two weeks earlier that it was top secret information for internal use only. That was the whole reason she had sealed it in an envelope. It was even worse that Hudson’s father had witnessed the debacle. Maybe if Walker Quinn hadn’t seen what happened, Hudson could have swept things under the rug. He didn’t even want to think about how angry his father would be if they lost this deal. It would be just the latest example of Hudson’s failure to measure up.
Walker Quinn was a hard ass and had been since Hudson was a kid. Things got worse after Colin’s accident. Hudson wasn’t sure if he ever really met his father’s approval since that catastrophic day. When Hudson finished at the top of his class at Yale his father was away on a business trip instead of attending graduation. Sure, Mr. Quinn called to tell his son that he was proud, and seemed genuinely sorry that he wasn’t there, but Hudson never forgot the words that his father congratulated him with: “I never expected anything less.” For Hudson, first place wasn’t accomplishment, it felt like a requirement to meet his father’s idea of success.
Hudson hung up with Imogene and opened the emails she had forwarded to him. She still had a lot of data to pull together, so there wasn’t much he could do for the time being.
He reread the documents a few times, then snapped his computer shut and pondered what to do next. Hudson was never good with idle time. He considered calling his father to bounce off a few ideas about how to save the Marché d’Été deal, but it felt too soon. Hudson was already over his own outburst of temper, but he imagined that the older man would need a few more hours to calm back down.
After deciding not to call his father, Hudson aimlessly strolled around the hotel room, poking his nose into drawers and closets, taking notice of things that he typically ignored. He was used to sleeping in the finest hotel rooms and was no longer impressed by the high thread count Egyptian cotton sheets or fluffy down duvets, but the blend of priceless antiques and cutting-edge modern amenities in the George V penthouse was impressive, even to a man like himself.
There was a fruit bowl sitting on the entry table and Hudson wandered over to snatch up an apple. It was crisp and delicious. He took a few bites and then tossed it in the waste bin nearby.
Next, he hit the bar and poured himself a scotch.
Finally, he sat down on the plush sofa and turned on the television, hoping to find distraction in a few hours of mindless melodrama. He flipped through the channels and sighed when he found another dead end. He hadn’t really watched much television over the last few years. He had no idea what the good shows were anymore. Besides, most of the channels were in French. He eventually settled on an American news program but he was quickly bored listening to the two commentators duke it out over which candidate was better suited to serve as President. Hudson hated election years. It always felt like everyone was too busy campaigning to get anything done. He turned off the TV.
He tried desperately to keep his mind focused, hating when it wandered into places he didn’t like to go. He thought mostly about his father and his brother. There was zero chance that Colin would have let this happen. Colin… Hudson pushed the thought down deep. He was not going to go there right now. He decided fresh air might be good for him. On his way to the balcony, he tripped on a single strappy silver shoe.
Gabrielle. She was out there somewhere in the city by herself. He thought about her odd behavior some more and felt a pang of guilt. If something was wrong, he certainly hadn’t helped the situation by biting her head off for making a mistake. Yes, she was his personal assistant and yes, it was her job to set up meetings and to ensure that documents were prepared- but it was his deal. He was ultimately responsible to make sure that things worked out, not Gabrielle. After all, it was his family’s money on the line. They bore the risk, but also the reward if the Marche d’Ete deal went through.
Maybe it was the high-profile lifestyle that was throwing her off? The pretty blonde seemed distinctly ill at ease in wearing designer clothes and bunking in a five-star hotel. Of course, she had never seemed reluctant to spend his money before. Whatever was going on, she was a completely different girl than the one he spent a few weeks with back in New York.
In New York, Gabrielle was confident. That was what was missing now. He would never forget the first time they met. He had been struggling through a phone call with a Parisian secretary who refused to speak English and Ms. Levesque had simply walked up and plucked the phone out of his hand, taking charge of the situation without a second thought. Of course, her job performance had rapidly deteriorated after that impressive debut. She never seemed to care that she was a terrible assistant back in the States. Now she seemed overwhelmed and a little skittish. But that wasn’t the only change he noticed. She seemed softer somehow. Sweeter. Kinder and more gentle…and if possible, even more beautiful than before. Which was dumb. She looked exactly the same as she always had but her mannerisms made her more attractive-at least when she wasn’t pissing him off.
He sent her out into the city alone. Hudson felt another sting of remorse. What if she got into trouble? She was a grown woman and she could handle herself. After all, she had gotten by on her own for years before meeting him and she was able to speak the language. Still, Hudson knew that if anything happened to her then he would feel like it was his fault. He couldn’t have that on his conscience. Maybe he should check-in and make certain that she was okay?
Hudson was looking for an excuse not to be alone. He knew that even if he refused to admit it. When he was alone his thoughts wandered and they always ended up back in the same spot.
Colin.
Hudson picked up his phone and dialed his assistant’s new phone. There was a pause before the call went through, followed by three excruciating rings before Ms. Levesque picked up.
“Hello?”
“Where are you?” Hudson didn’t waste any time with pleasantries.
“Out. I’m doing what you told me to and staying away.”
He liked the hint of sass in her voice. He hadn’t heard that in a while.
“I want you to come back to the hotel.”
“Why? So you can yell at me some more?”
Touché
“No, so we can figure out how to fix this mess.” It took everything in him not to add, “that you caused.”
“I guess I can head back but it’s going to
take at least a half an hour for me to walk to the hotel, probably closer to an hour. I’m not exactly sure how far away I am, but I was heading towards the Tuileries Garden.”
Hudson let out a sigh. “Just take a cab, Gabrielle.”
“I can’t. I don’t have any Euros.”
He was about to remind her that she wasn’t on the moon. She was just in another country and almost everyone accepted Visa and Mastercard. It was on the tip of his tongue but at the last minute, he looked around the room and decided he didn’t want to stay there waiting for her by himself.
“Where did you say you are? I’ll come get you.”
“No. Don’t. I’ll be fine and you have important business to work on. You didn’t want my help, remember?” The voice sounded…weary? Anxious? He wasn’t certain how to read the tone. He only knew that it made him feel about two inches tall. Yes, Gabrielle had fucked up spectacularly at the meeting, but he was finally ready to shoulder a portion of the blame. He probably should have let the subject drop and allowed his assistant time to cool off on her own, but that wasn’t his style.
“The address?”
She provided the information reluctantly. He half-expected her to send him to the wrong location on purpose but she was waiting on the sidewalk when he pulled up several moments later.
“You wanted to go to the Tuileries?” he asked when she slid into the car.
“You don’t have to-!”
“It’s fine,” he cut her off and leaned forward to give instructions to the driver. It seemed like they had barely pulled away from the curb before stopping again.
Hudson opened the door and helped his companion step onto the pavement. Directly in front of them was a stone and iron fence, topped with gold-painted points. Beyond it was a vast green space laid out as a formal garden.
He glanced toward a nearby gate. “Ladies first.”
Gabrielle looked surprised. “Oh! You don’t have to stay. I’ll make my way back on my own.”
Hudson didn’t respond directly. He leaned back into the car and told the driver he would call the hotel when they were ready for a pickup. Then he stood and faced Gabrielle again, looking between her face and a nearby gate.
“No. We’re here. We might as well go see it,” he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, still steadfastly resisting the urge to apologize directly. “So…we just walk around?”
The remark earned a long, uncertain look. He could tell that his assistant was trying to work out if he was being serious. Perhaps she was waiting for another shoe to drop? There was absolute silence until she finally shrugged and turned to walk through the gate. “Yes. We walk around. That’s what people usually do in parks.”
“I wouldn’t know.”
The quip failed to earn a smile. Hudson expected a twinge of annoyance at his companion’s obstinacy. Instead, he was challenged.
He hurried to catch up, his long legs closing the distance between them in two quick strides and falling into step beside Ms. Levesque.
“So, are you going to tell me about this place?”
Gabrielle stopped to look Hudson over. Once again, he had the impression that she was looking for an ulterior motive for his words. He wondered if he’d been too harsh on her earlier.
“What do you mean?”
“Where are we? Why did you come here? I dunno. As I said, I don’t have a lot of experience hanging around at parks, but I assume we don’t just march around in silence.”
“Well…” his companion began uncertainly. “There isn’t much to say. I mean, it’s the Tuileries. You must know this place better than I do. Surely you’ve been to Paris before.”
“Yes, but not to this part.”
This time, Gabrielle’s expression was scandalized.
“How do you come to Paris without visiting the Tuileries Garden?”
Hudson shrugged. “I don’t know. It just never happened. I have been to the Eiffel Tower,” he assured her. “And I’ve seen the Louvre- well, part of the Louvre. There was an amazing after-hours cocktail party where…” He stopped talking when he saw his assistant narrow her eyes in disapproval. He supposed that cocktail parties were not the point. They walked along without speaking until Hudson felt compelled to fill the conversational void again. “What do you think about the garden? Does it live up to your expectations?”
Gabrielle’s expression transformed, spreading into a smile that he couldn’t help reciprocating.
“Better. It’s better than my expectations.”
“It’s really your first time here in Paris, isn’t it? It’s okay to tell me. Now that I know you speak French competently, I don’t really care one way or another.”
The woman hesitated for a moment. Something unreadable flashed behind her glass-blue eyes, but then she bobbed her head in agreement. “It’s really my first time, but I’ve been dreaming about it my entire life. My grand-mère was raised here, you know?”
Hudson didn’t know that, but it made sense. She had mentioned that her family was French, and the relationship explained how she attained her fluency.
“Your grandmother moved to America?”
She nodded.
“Why did she leave?”
“Why do a lot of women pack up and leave their lives behind? She chased a boy…”
“Your grandfather?”
The woman nodded. “It didn’t work out in the end. We Levesque women are famous for making bad decisions about men.”
Hudson believed that. If he were honest, that foible was part of her charm.
“What was he like?”
“I don’t know. Grand-mère didn’t like to talk about him. I remember that she was…” she let her voice trail off wistfully.
“Was? So, I take it she’s passed?”
“Four years ago. It’s only been Gab-” She stopped speaking abruptly and looked away. “Just my sister and I since then.”
“You never mentioned that you had a sister.” Hudson wasn’t too surprised. Before Paris, their conversations revolved entirely around two topics: work, or whether they preferred to make out on his desk or on the sofa in his office.
“There isn’t much to say. She’s not very interesting.”
“I doubt that’s true.”
Gabrielle shrugged.
“Is she older? Younger?”
“Older. Like I said, she’s really not that interesting. What about you? Do you have any siblings?”
Hudson came to a sudden halt, temporarily stunned motionless by the sharp stab of pain that washed through him at the mention of his brother.
“Hudson?”
“No,” he said quickly, forcing his feet to move again. “Sorry about that. I was just…” His light eyes scanned the horizon, seeking out an excuse for his odd behavior. They came to rest on an ice-cream cart on the far side of the walkway. “…hungry. Do you want some ice cream?”
“Ice cream? But it’s only-” She didn’t finish. Her breath caught in her throat.
Hudson noticed the catch in her breath and turned to see her staring through the gardens and across the river beyond. He tried to follow her gaze but couldn’t make out the object of her attention.
“What is it?”
His assistant turned away and bowed her head. Hudson admired the delicate flush that colored her cheekbone. “Musée D’orsay.”
“Muse-ay Door-say?” Hudson tried and failed to parrot back the syllables that slipped off her tongue.
“Yes. The Orsay Museum. They have the finest collection of Impressionistic and Post-Impressionistic art in the world. I was just excited to see it.”
“Let’s go in.” The responsible section of Hudson’s brain was pestering him to wrap up the sightseeing and get back to work, but that desire was overpowered by the way that his companion lit up when she realized what was across the river. She obviously wanted to go, and there was no way he could deny her. They were so close, what was another hour or two?
The color on Gabrielle’s cheeks deepened. �
��Maybe some other time. I don’t have…”
“…any European money,” Hudson finished for her. He winked and reached for her arm. “I guess I’m a handy guy to have around after all.”
“Oh! I couldn’t take your money!” Ms. Levesque said without much conviction. “That is…I would have to pay you back.”
“It’s nothing,” Hudson said. Truly, the flash of excitement on her face was more than enough compensation for the handful of Euros and the few hours of boredom that he would pay for museum admission. For the first time since they had begun this Godawful trip, she looked like the woman he had hired: vivacious and full of life.
“I didn’t know you were into art,” Hudson said as he half-walked and was half-dragged along the riverbank toward the bridge. It made sense though. She always paid a huge amount of attention to the details in her surroundings and had a strong appreciation for beautiful things.
“You didn’t?” The woman’s blue eyes widened in surprise. “We were raised on it- my sister and I. Grand-mère was a painter and nearly all of her friends were artists of one sort or another. They were an eclectic bunch for sure. Didn’t you notice the front hallway of our house?”
Hudson nodded his head, even though he didn’t really remember much about his visit to Brooklyn. It already seemed like weeks ago, rather than days, when he had shown up at his assistant’s house and dragged her on to his plane. He was too furious at the time to pay much attention to the decor. All he really remembered about the place was the undervalued real estate and the potential to make a boatload of cash.
“Do you paint?”
“A little.” The tone was modest at first, but after a brief pause, she reassessed. “Actually, people think I’m rather good. Grand-mère gave me the basics, but I’m otherwise self-taught.”
“What do you paint?”
“I paint…how I feel,” she responded with a shrug. “It’s hard to explain.”