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“The only thing I’m doing in Paris is my wife. I was talking about dad’s mistress, asshole. The one suing us.”
I scrub my jaw. Right. The mistress and yep, I’m being an ass and I can’t seem to help it. The idea of Abigail being his dirty seconds hits ten wrong notes. “A redhead named Abigail. Who is she?”
“Is she dad’s mistress?”
“No. Fuck no, Reid. She came here to see you. Who the hell is she?”
“What the fuck is up your ass?”
I run my hand through my hair. “Did you fuck a woman named Abigail with red hair?”
“No. Never.” He’s silent a moment. “What is this really about? Come on, man. Talk to me. I know that isn’t something you like to do—”
“I need to know who she is and no, it’s not professional, at least I don’t think it is. She walked in here, asked for you, and left when she found out you were on your honeymoon. She seemed upset.”
“She’s not anyone I know, so if you want to fuck her, feel free. Hell, even if I had fucked her, you could fuck her. I’m married, and happily at that, but I get it. I wouldn’t want your seconds either. Is that what this is? You want her? Because I’m not used to you wanting any woman enough to get this damn prickly.”
“Neither am I,” I admit.
“Ah,” he says. “And you don’t like it.”
“I don’t know what the fuck I feel right now.”
“I understand all too well, brother. Talk to Connie. If I know Abigail, she’ll know Abigail.”
“Right. I’ll talk to Connie.”
“Did you fuck her?”
I laugh without humor. “No. No, I have not.”
He whistles. “And you’re this in need of information about her? Let me see if Carrie knows her.” He covers the phone and there are muffled voices before he returns with, “No go. She doesn’t know her either.”
“All right. Thanks, man, and on the whole asshole thing—”
“I can handle it. No need to say more. On another subject. This thing with dad.”
“I’ll handle it. If I can’t I’ll call you. You know I will.”
“I do. Good luck with dad and Abigail.” He hangs up. I walk to my desk and call Connie.
“Yes, Gabe?” she answers.
“Redhead named Abigail.”
“The one looking for Reid. What about her?”
“Who is she?”
“No clue. I assumed someone he fucked once upon a blue moon.”
“She’s not and I don’t like strange encounters like that one.”
“Hmmm,” she says. “I’ll dig around, but nothing is ringing a bell or setting off an alarm. You sure she’s not connected to whatever this thing is going on with your father?”
“Maybe,” I say, and disconnect to call my father.
“Yes, son?” he says, almost gloating with my need to call him.
