Chapter 282

**Tom**

I pushed open the heavy mahogany doors to my father's office. The space hadn't changed since I was a kid—it still screamed "I'm richer than God" with its floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city skyline.
"Thomas." Dad didn't look up from whatever document held his attention.
I dropped into one of the Italian leather chairs across from his massive desk. "Father."
The silence stretched as he continued reading, his Mont Blanc pen tapping against the desk in that irritating rhythm that drove me crazy during childhood lectures. I fought the urge to reach over and grab it.
Finally, he tossed both pen and paper aside with a dramatic flourish. "So, Australia, huh? Ready to wrangle some kangaroos?"
"Pretty sure we're not going for the wildlife, but yeah, I'm ready."
"Good, good." He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms behind his head. "Just remember, this project is crucial. We need those contracts signed, sealed, and delivered. No pressure, though."
"I'll do my best-"
"Your best?" He cut me off with an exaggerated gasp. "Oh no, no, no. This isn't some university exam where you can charm your way through with that professor smile of yours. This is billions we're talking about."
I rolled my eyes. "Dad, I know. I've been studying their financials for weeks."
"This deal..." He paused for dramatic effect, "is more important than your mother's yearly shopping budget."
"Nothing's that important," I deadpanned.
He laughed, then pointed a finger at me. "But seriously, son. This merger could change everything for Blackwood Industries. We need this win."
"I know, Dad. I'll handle it." I shifted in the chair, hoping we were done. But that gleam in his eye told me otherwise.
He drummed his fingers on the desk. "How's the girlfriend hunt going?"
I groaned. "Really? We're doing this now?"
"Well, the clock's ticking. What's it been - four months since our little agreement?" He pulled out his phone, probably checking his damn countdown app. "Eight months left to introduce the future Mrs. Blackwood."
I slumped deeper into the chair. "Can we not do this right now?"
"What's the matter? Having trouble finding someone who can handle the Blackwood charm?" He wiggled his eyebrows.
"I'm working on it."
"Working on it?" Dad's voice rose an octave. "Son, you're not building a rocket. Just find a nice girl, preferably from a good family."
I sat up straighter, my jaw clenching. "Dad, I don't need you playing matchmaker."
"Then prove it." He spread his hands wide. "Show me this mystery woman you're supposedly 'working on.'"
"I didn't say there was a specific-"
"Ah-ha!" He jabbed a finger in my direction. "So you're not even trying."
"I am trying. I just haven't found the right person yet."
Dad pulled out his phone again, tapping away. "Let's see... Barbara Mitchell's daughter just got back from Paris. She's running some fashion empire now."
"No."
"Or there's Senator Wilson's girl. Harvard Law, very ambitious."
I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Dad, please."
"Four months, Thomas. Four months and not a single prospect?" He shook his head. "At this rate, I'll need to start arranging some introductions."
"Don't you dare."
"What choice do you give me? You spend all your time in that classroom when you should be out meeting suitable women."
"I'll find someone before the deadline, okay?"
"That's what you said four months ago." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. "I've already started compiling a list of potential candidates. There's this lovely investment banker-"
"No blind dates." I stood up, pacing the office. "I'm not some desperate bachelor who needs his daddy to set him up."
"Could've fooled me." He chuckled. "Look, son, I'm just trying to help. If you don't find someone by the deadline-"
"I will."
"IF you don't," he continued, "I'll have no choice but to take matters into my own hands. Your mother's already planning the party."
"The party isn't happening because I'll find someone, " I said, stopping to face him. "And she'll be perfect and accomplished and from a 'good family' since that matters so much to you."
"Eight months, Thomas." He tapped his watch. "Tick tock."
I forced a smile, fighting the urge to yank that damn Rolex off his wrist. "Yes, Father. Eight months. Got it. Tattooed on my forehead."
"Sarcasm doesn't become you, son." He shuffled through papers on his desk. "But I'm serious about finding someone suitable. The Blackwood name-"
"Needs a proper heir, can't have the family line dying out, must maintain our social standing." I ticked off each point on my fingers. "Did I miss anything?"
"Your mother would appreciate less attitude."
"Fine." I collapsed back into the chair. "I'll find someone. A real person, not one of your pre-screened candidates with perfect pedigrees and trust funds."
"As long as she's not a cocktail waitress. Or a Vegas showgirl. And don't mess up Australia." He jabbed his pen in my direction. "Those contracts-"
"Are crucial, billions at stake, future of the company, blah blah blah." I waved my hand. "You've only mentioned it sixteen times since Monday."
"Seventeen, actually." He smirked. "And the Morrison event next week-"
"Dad!" I threw my hands up. "Yes, I'll be there. Yes, I'll wear the navy Armani. Yes, I'll schmooze with all the right people."
"Wouldn't want you to miss anything important."
"Trust me, I won't miss a single life-changing moment of watching old men brag about their golf scores while their wives compare plastic surgeons."
"Thomas." His warning tone hadn't changed since I was five.
"Fine, sorry." I stood up, straightening my jacket. "I'll be the perfect Blackwood heir. Charm everyone. Make small talk about yacht clubs and summer homes. Maybe even laugh at their terrible jokes about stock portfolios."
"That's my boy." He picked up his phone as it buzzed. "Now get out of here. I have a conference call in five minutes."
I escaped before he could add another item to my endless to-do list. My feet carried me down the familiar marble hallway, past the pretentious oil paintings of dead Blackwoods judging me with their painted eyes.
I rounded the corner to Leo's office, finding him sprawled in his ergonomic chair, his feet propped on his desk while he tossed a stress ball in the air.
"What a sudden surprise? Did you meet with Father and come straight here?" Leo caught the stress ball with a smirk.
"Yeah." I dropped into the chair across from him, feeling the tension ease out of my shoulders. "The usual lecture about saving the company and finding a wife. You know how it is."
Leo laughed. "Sounds like a fun chat."
"Yeah, more like a root canal without anesthesia." I slouched further into the chair. "Complete with the usual Blackwood guilt trips and thinly veiled threats."
Leo tossed the stress ball one last time before setting it on his desk. "Come on, spill. What did the mighty Richard Blackwood bestow upon his eldest son today?"
"Oh, you know, just the usual greatest hits." I started counting off on my fingers. "Don't screw up Australia, billions are at stake, the family name depends on it... Then, the grand finale about my ticking biological clock."
"Ah, the girlfriend ultimatum." Leo's face split into a grin. "What happened to that girl you were seeing? Sara, right? The one I met at your place?"
The Professor's Temptation
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