Chapter 15 The Slap Heard ‘Round Chicago
The Slap Heard ‘Round Chicago
HUDSON
The champagne turned to acid in my stomach as I watched Mari walk away, her back impossibly straight, her exit nothing special.
No one would ever suspect the devastation I’d just caused.
But I’d seen it. That split second when her eyes had widened, when understanding had struck her, when something vital and vibrant had dimmed.
I’d done that. Me. And for what? A job title? My parents’ approval?
“Such a direct young woman,” my mother said, sipping her champagne. “I suppose that’s the New York influence.”
Mrs. Trolio barely registered Mari’s departure. “The board is quite excited about the direction you’ll take the magazine, Hudson. The creative director position has been vacant for too long.”
Their voices faded to white noise as my temples throbbed. Damn it. I should’ve told her. How many times had I tried and failed to tell her what I’d done? God, I was an idiot. I needed to go after her. I needed to explain, though what explanation could justify what I’d done?
“Hudson.” My father’s sharp tone cut through my thoughts. “Eleanor asked you a question.”
“I’m sorry,” I managed, loosening my tie as a wave of heat crawled up my neck. “I need to check on something with the... DJ. If you’ll excuse me.”
I didn’t wait for their response, ignoring my mother’s disapproving frown as I set down my champagne flute and headed in the direction Mari had gone. The Royal Gardens were sprawling, with countless corridors and service areas where she could have disappeared.
The rest of the reception unfolded in a nightmarish blur.
Every time I glimpsed a sparkling black dress—her dress—she’d vanish before I could reach her.
She’d appear briefly to direct the cake cutting, consult with the DJ, or speak with Lia’s mother, always staying just out of my reach, always surrounded by staff or guests, never alone, never accessible.
Mari Landry, who had pressed herself against me in our makeshift office just hours ago, was now orchestrating an entire wedding reception around avoiding me. She was damn good at it.
The quartet played on. The cake was cut. Toasts were made. Guests danced. On the surface, everything was perfect and exactly as we’d planned. No one would ever know that beneath the polished veneer, something essential had shattered.
I retreated to a quiet corner, my back against the wall, watching as Mari effortlessly managed every detail from across the room.
There was no point in trying to reach her.
She’d disappear, like some sort of twisted hallucination.
My chest felt hollow, as if something vital had been carved out with a dull spoon.
My father approached, martini in hand, shoulders squared in a way that always preceded a lecture.
“You seem distracted,” he said, voice carefully modulated not to carry beyond our conversation. “Hardly the professional standard I’d expect from a Gable.”
I ran a hand through my hair, feeling strands coming loose from the careful styling I’d applied before the ceremony. “Not now.”
“If this is about that girl—”
“Her name is Mari,” I snapped, jaw clenching so tight a muscle twitched in my cheek. “And she’s not ‘that girl.’ She’s my partner. She’s brilliant and creative and—”
I stopped, the words sticking in my throat. What right did I have to defend her when I’d just betrayed her so completely?
My father studied me, something like concern flashing across his features. “You’ve become... involved with her.”
It wasn’t a question.
“It’s complicated,” I said, which was the understatement of the century.
“Hudson.” He set his drink down on a nearby high-top table, his expression unusually serious. “I’m assuming you’ve slept with her?”
“I don’t see how that’s any of your—”
“She’s a distraction. A good fuck. But she’s not the woman you ruin your life for. I’m sure she was great, but you’ve already had your fill. There is no room for a relationship with someone so…” He paused, searching for a word.
“So what?” I challenged, clenching my hand into a fist at my side. God, if he finished that sentence the way I thought he was going to, I was going to ruin this wedding reception, possibly by being arrested.
“Unsuitable,” he finished. “The Gable name has standards to maintain. Your mother and I have worked too hard to establish our reputation to have you throw it away on some passing slut in a short dress.”
My vision went red. Without a word, I grabbed my father’s arm and yanked him around the corner into a service hallway. The moment we were alone, I spun and slammed him against the wall, my forearm pressed against his chest.
“If you ever speak about Mari like that again,” I growled, barely recognizing my voice, “I will make you regret it.”
My father’s eyes widened, his perfectly coiffed hair disheveled from the impact. For a moment, he looked smaller, older, less like the towering figure who’d controlled my life for so long.
But then his face hardened, jaw setting in that familiar line of disapproval. He didn’t try to break free, didn’t raise a hand against me. Instead, his lips curled into a wintry smile.
“Perhaps the pressure of this event has gotten to you,” he said, voice steady.
“But let me make something very clear. If you ever lay hands on me again, if you do anything to tarnish the reputation I’ve built, I will cut you off without a second thought.
No more chances, no more reconciliation.
You’ll be done. A nobody floundering without a family to back him up.
” He shoved me backwards, then pushed past me, straightening his jacket. “Consider this your only warning.”
His footsteps echoed down the hallway as he rejoined the reception, leaving me alone with my rage.
“You’re wrong about her,” I whispered, knowing he couldn’t hear me. “And I’ve fucked up.”
I’d sacrificed something authentic and real for a pale imitation of success.
As the reception wound down and guests departed, the inevitability of confrontation loomed. The perfect execution Mari and I had planned would require us to coordinate the sparkler send-off together. She couldn’t avoid me forever. At least not tonight.
I spotted her near the entrance, tablet in hand, directing staff on the sparkler distribution. Her hair was still perfect, her makeup flawless, her posture impeccable. Only someone who knew her well would notice the tension in her shoulders, the tightness around her eyes.
Someone like me, who had studied every inch of her body, who had memorized her expressions, who had held her while she slept.
I approached cautiously, as if she were a wild animal that might bolt. “Mari.”
“The photographers need to be at the end of the line,” she said without looking up, her voice detached. “And we need two staff members monitoring for safety.”
“I know because I helped plan this, remember?” I tried to keep my voice level, though anxiety pulsed through me like an electrical current. “But that’s not what I need to talk to you about.”
“Is there anything else we need to discuss professionally?” Her fingers moved across the tablet screen, checking items off our timeline.
“Damn it, look at me. Please.”
She finally did, and I almost wished she hadn’t. Her eyes were empty, devoid of the spark that had drawn me to her from the beginning. Even in our worst arguments, Mari had always been vibrantly alive. This cold detachment was worse than any anger.
“What do you want me to say?” She asked, voice low enough that the nearby staff couldn’t hear. “Congratulations on your new job? On stealing my idea? On making me believe we had something real while you were planning your exit strategy?”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“Then what was it like? Explain it to me.” A tiny muscle twitched near her eye, the only outward sign of emotion. “I’m dying to hear how this isn’t exactly what it looks like.”
Before I could answer, Lia appeared at Mari’s side, radiant in her wedding gown.
“There you two are! Everyone’s ready for the send-off. God, I can’t believe the night’s almost over. It’s been absolute perfection.”
Mari’s professional mask slid back into place so seamlessly it was terrifying. “Just doing our job,” she said with a warm smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Let’s get you and Manny to your getaway car in style.”
The send-off was flawless. Golden light from dozens of sparklers illuminated Lia and Manny’s faces as they ran through the tunnel of well-wishers, stole a final, cinematic kiss, and climbed into their waiting car.
As the vehicle pulled away, guests cheered and waved, the perfect end to a perfect day. At least for the newlyweds.
As the crowd dispersed and vendors began breaking down, I finally cornered Mari in one of the backrooms. She stood alone at a table, gathering discarded papers, her back to me.
The string quartet had packed up, the DJ had dismantled his equipment, and the catering staff were clearing the last of the dessert displays.
We were nearly alone for the first time since everything had imploded.
“Sweetheart,” I said quietly, approaching her with caution.
Her shoulders tensed, but she didn’t turn. “I have vendors to oversee.”
“Please. Give me five minutes.”
She continued collecting papers. “I don’t think there’s anything to say. The wedding’s over. This is over.”
“No.” I stepped closer, stopping when she stiffened. “We haven’t even started. What happened tonight—”
“What happened,” she cut in, finally turning to face me, “is that I discovered the man I was sleeping with, the man I trusted, has been stealing my ideas and passing them off as his own to advance his career. Did I miss anything?”
“Mar—”
“Don’t. I don’t want to hear your bullshit.”
“The app,” I began, throat tightening around the words. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.”
“Like what? You getting caught?” Her laugh was hollow, nothing like the full-bodied sound I’d grown addicted to. God, she was empty.