Chapter 4
A True Innovator
HUDSON
Her fingertips left smudges on my presentation boards. Tiny, imperfect reminders that the she-demon had touched something of mine.
I straightened a stack of papers that didn’t need straightening, alone in the event hall where Chicago’s wedding elite had gathered for the annual industry gala.
I’d been there a few times with my parents growing up, but never by myself.
Thank god my parents had a high-profile wedding they were working in LA this weekend.
I didn’t even want to think about having to explain Mari to them.
Four hundred of the city’s top wedding professionals dressed in their finest, all pretending they didn’t secretly hate half the people in the room. It was the kind of event where reputations were made and broken over champagne and forced smiles.
After two days of working in our shared office space, I needed this networking opportunity.
Two days of Mari’s fiery energy, her constant humming while she worked, her habit of kicking off her shoes and propping her feet on her desk while reviewing vendor contracts.
Two days of pretending I wasn’t constantly aware of her presence, that I couldn’t still taste her skin from that night at the hotel if I let my mind wander too far.
“Hudson Gable! Just the man I was hoping to see.”
I turned to find Eleanor Trolio approaching, martini in hand. As the editor-in-chief of Modern Wedding, she was arguably the most influential person in the room. Her magazine was the bible of the industry, and a feature could make or break a planning business.
“Mrs. Trolio,” I said, extending my hand. “It’s an honor to meet you.”
“Please call me Eleanor.” She shook my hand, her grip surprisingly firm for a woman in her sixties.
Up close, her shrewd intelligence shone behind her cunning eyes.
This was a woman who hadn’t built an empire by accident.
“I’ve been following your work since you opened in LA.
When I heard you were expanding to Chicago, I knew I had to meet the man behind Perfect Day Planning. ”
“The pleasure is all mine. I’ve long admired your editorial vision.”
She smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Oh, flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Gable. Especially when it’s sincere.” She took a sip of her martini. “I understand you’re working on the Kussikov-Martin wedding. That’s quite a coup for someone new to the Chicago scene.”
“News travels fast,” I remarked, taking a sip of my drink.
“It’s my job to know everything happening in the wedding world,” she said with a dismissive wave. “And when the son of two high-profile planners will compete on the same wedding with one of Manhattan’s best? That’s the drama my readers live for.”
I forced a smile. “I hope the focus remains on the quality of our work rather than any perceived rivalry.”
“Of course, of course,” Eleanor agreed, though her eyes said otherwise. “Speaking of quality work, I glimpsed your venue mock-ups at the Royal Gardens yesterday. I was there for another shoot.”
I stiffened. I hadn’t realized Eleanor was at the venue at the same time. Hopefully, she’d seen the boards before Mari had ruined them with her damn coffee.
“Oh?” I kept my voice neutral.
“That constellation projection mapping idea for the garden space? Brilliant. It’s the kind of innovative thinking we feature in Modern Wedding.
” She leaned closer, the scent of her expensive perfume mingling with gin.
“Between us, I’m gathering ideas for a spread on emerging trends for a future issue.
I’d love to highlight that concept as an example of where wedding design is heading along with potentially other innovative ideas you’ve come up with. ”
My mind raced. The constellation idea wasn’t mine. It was Mari’s.
“That’s very flattering. It would be an amazing opportunity, to be sure.”
“I’d need some exclusive renderings, of course. And an interview or two about your design philosophy.” Eleanor tapped her glass thoughtfully. “It would be quite a feature. ‘Hudson Gable: Redefining Wedding Design.’ Has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”
It did. It had exactly the ring that would make my parents finally take notice. I could get the family name in Modern Wedding. My father wouldn’t be able to dismiss my “little experiment” anymore.
I knew I should’ve corrected her. I should’ve explained that the idea came from my rival.
“I’d be honored,” I said instead. “When would you need the materials?”
“We can discuss details later. Wouldn’t want to ruin a delightful party with the boring bits, would we? I want this to be perfect. I’m willing to wait.”
“Wonderful! That sounds excellent. Thank you, Mrs. Trolio.”
“Oh, don’t thank me. Your expertise got you here. This is exciting, Mr. Gable. I have a feeling you’re going to make quite an impact on Chicago.”
As she moved on to greet other guests, I stood frozen, drink halfway to my lips.
What had I just done?
Shit. I didn’t want to take credit for Mari’s half-baked storybook nonsense. I had half a mind to chase down Eleanor to fix the error.
Scanning the room, I searched for Eleanor again when my phone vibrated in my pocket. Groaning, I glared at my father’s face.
For a moment, I considered letting it go to voicemail. But twenty-nine years of conditioning won out.
“Father,” I answered, stepping into a quieter corner of the ballroom.
“Hudson. Your mother tells me you’re attending the Chicago gala tonight.”
No greeting, no pleasantries. Typical.
“Yes, I am.”
“Good. Eleanor Trolio will be there. Make sure you introduce yourself.”
“I already spoke with Eleanor. She’s considering featuring one of my design concepts in Modern Wedding.” I couldn’t help but brag.
The line went silent for a moment. Then, something I’d never heard before: a note of approval in my father’s voice.
“Is that so? Which concept?”
“A constellation projection mapping for the Kussikov-Martin wedding. It transforms the venue’s garden space to reflect the night sky from when they met.”
Another pause. “That’s... innovative.”
“That’s what interested her.” Not my designs. Mari’s. I ran a hand over my forehead.
“Your mother would like to speak with you.”
Before I could respond, my mother’s voice came on the line. “Hudson, darling. We just heard from Deborah Voto. She’s planning her daughter’s wedding for next spring, and she specifically asked if you’d be available to consult.”
Deborah Voto was Chicago old money, the type of client my parents had built their reputation serving. For her to request me by name was unprecedented.
“She mentioned seeing that dreadful video of you and that woman at the expo,” my mother continued. “I assured her it was the woman’s fault, and that she attacked you. I think it convinced her to consider you, so don’t screw it up.”
It hadn’t been entirely Mari’s fault, but I didn’t correct her. “I’d be happy to meet with her.” I cleared my throat.
“Wonderful. I told her you’d call to set up a consultation.” My mother’s voice softened. “It seems your Chicago expansion is gaining traction, Hudson. Your father and I are... pleased.”
Pleased. It was more than I’d heard in eight years of running my company.
“Thank you, Mother.”
After we hung up, I stood motionless, the phone still clutched in my hand. My parents were pleased with me. Because of an idea that wasn’t mine.
I drained my drink, welcoming the burn down my throat. One small deception. That’s all it was. Not that it mattered. She was my competition after all. Maybe I could incorporate some of her other ideas into the wedding when I won our little competition and give her credit for those.
I was still standing there, empty glass in hand, when a familiar voice cut through my thoughts.
“Fancy seeing you here, asshole.”
Mari. Of course.
I turned. She stood a few feet away with a glass of champagne in her hand and a gleam in her eye.
She looked different from how she did at the office; more polished, her blonde waves tamed into an elegant updo, her usual casual clothes replaced by a fitted black dress that hugged curves I was trying very hard not to remember in intimate detail.
“Ms. Landry,” I said, my voice carefully neutral. “I didn’t realize you’d be attending.”
“Clearly.” She took a sip of champagne, her eyes never leaving mine. “Miss me?”
“It’s been less than three hours since we were both at the office.”
“And yet you look like you’ve swallowed something unpleasant. Bad scotch?”
“Bad company,” I replied, unable to help myself.
She pressed a hand to her chest in mock offense. “And here I thought we were making such progress in our professional relationship.”
“Is there something you need, Ms. Landry? Or are you just here to annoy me?”
“Both. Penelope called. There’s an issue with the venue timeline that needs our immediate attention.”
Lia and Manny had decided on the Royal Gardens for their venue after we’d toured six other places. I didn’t blame them. It was a gorgeous place to get married.
“Can’t it wait until tomorrow?”
“No, it can’t.” She checked her watch. “She’s waiting for us at the Royal Gardens now. Something about a double-booking for the setup day.”
I frowned. “But we need a full day just for installation.”
“For once, we agree on something.” She gestured toward the exit. “After you, Mr. Dildo.”
Wrinkling my nose, I stepped towards her as if I was going to exit, but I paused next to her and bent down until my mouth was next to her ear. “You fucking wish.”
I walked out without another word, a grin on my lips.
Her small gasp would satisfy me for far longer than I cared to admit. It took her a second to catch up to me, but the flush in her cheeks and the way she downed her champagne before we left the room said more than her silence.
Once we were on the street with the summer evening air warm around us, she finally spoke. “Where’s your damn car?”
Shrugging, I put my hands in my pockets. “I walked, but the Royal Gardens is only a few blocks from here.”