Chapter 307
**Tom**
I glanced at my Patek Philippe watch - 3:04 PM. The suite's door clicked shut behind me as I straightened my tie, heading toward the elevator.
My phone buzzed. Hudson. Again.
"Not this guy," I muttered but accepted the call anyway. The elevator doors slid open with a soft ding.
"Mr. Blackwood-" Hudson's voice crackled through the speaker.
"Let me guess. You're waiting in the lobby?" I stepped into the elevator, jabbing the ground-floor button with more force than necessary. The mirrored walls reflected my exasperated expression back at me.
"Yes sir, I-"
"Hudson, in the last ten minutes, you've called me five times. Five. I'm hoping - really hoping - this is the last call because I'm already on my way down."
A pause. "Of course, sir. I'll wait here."
"Fantastic." I ended the call and slipped the phone into my pocket. The elevator continued its descent, and I found myself counting the times Hudson had called today. Fifteen? Twenty? The man had the patience of a five-year-old on a sugar rush.
The elevator chimed at the twelfth floor. A giggling couple stumbled in, practically wrapped around each other. The guy had his hand halfway up her shirt while she kept pecking at his neck like a deranged woodpecker.
I cleared my throat. Nothing.
More giggling. More everything.
I shifted to the far corner, suddenly fascinated by the emergency protocol poster. Who knew there were seventeen steps to follow in case of a fire? Riveting stuff.
"Baby, stop-" The girl's voice dissolved into another fit of giggles.
I checked my watch again. Nine more floors of this torture. The couple's hands wandered further south, and I pressed myself harder against the corner, studying the emergency exit map like it held the secrets of the universe.
The girl let out another giggle that morphed into something decidedly not PG-13. I cleared my throat louder, but they remained lost in their own world of roaming hands and sloppy kisses.
"Baby, you're so-" More kissing sounds.
I tilted my head back, counting ceiling tiles. Six... seven... eight... The things I'd do if Sara were here instead of these strangers. My mind drifted to how she'd look pressed against the mirrored wall, her lips parted, hands tangled in my hair...
But no. She had to be responsible. "I just started this job," she'd said about a million times. The memory of her voice made me smile despite my current predicament. Always so dedicated, my Sara.
Speaking of Sara, I wondered if she'd call tonight before bed. The thought of her curled up in my sheets, maybe wearing one of my shirts... My contact list flashed in my mind—her name saved simply as "Sunshine" because that's what she was—a ray of light breaking through my carefully constructed walls.
The elevator dinged on the third floor. There were just two more to go. The couple finally came up for air, the guy's shirt now mysteriously unbuttoned halfway down.
I fought back a smirk.
The elevator finally hit ground level, and I practically bolted for the doors. Freedom at last.
I stepped into the lobby, savoring my brief moment of freedom - which lasted approximately two seconds before Hudson materialized at my side like a particularly anxious ghost.
"Mr. Blackwood! Thank goodness. We need to-"
"Hudson." I raised my hand. "Breathe. When's the last time you took a breath?"
He blinked rapidly, clutching his tablet like a security blanket. "I... well... The Richardson meeting is in twenty minutes and-"
"And the venue is literally across the street." I gestured toward the floor-to-ceiling windows where the gleaming Richardson building stood. "We could crawl there and still make it on time."
"But sir, the documents-"
"Are already prepared, triple-checked, and probably quadruple-checked knowing you."
Hudson's left eye twitched. "What about the-"
"Projector? Tested this morning."
"The catering-"
"Arrived ten minutes ago, according to your last three texts."
He deflated slightly, but his fingers still drummed against his tablet. The man was a walking ball of nervous energy wrapped in an expensive suit. Still, I had to admit—he got results. Hudson was a manager in the Australia branch, and even though he always seemed to be in a hurry, he worked efficiently and effectively.
He was assigned as my assistant for the week I was staying in Australia, ensuring that everything ran smoothly.
"Sir, about the contract terms-"
"Hudson." I stopped walking and faced him. "Remember what we discussed about your blood pressure?"
"That was one time, sir! And the doctor said-"
"That you need to relax before you spontaneously combust?" I checked my watch. "We have eighteen minutes. The documents are perfect, the venue is ready, and everything is under control. You've done your job brilliantly, as always."
His shoulders dropped an inch. Progress.
"Now, what would really help is if you could grab some coffee for us both. The good stuff from that place around the corner, not the hotel's dishwater."
"But sir, the meeting-"
"Will be fine. Coffee first. Doctor's orders." I wasn't actually a doctor, but he didn't need to know that.
Hudson's face scrunched up like he'd bitten into a lemon, but after a moment, his features softened. "I suppose... a coffee break wouldn't hurt."
"There we go. Was that so painful?" I clapped him on the shoulder, steering him toward the cafe.
As we crossed the street, the afternoon sun bounced off Sydney's glass towers. A gentle breeze carried the scent of coffee and fresh pastries from the corner cafe.
The bell chimed as we entered. The aroma of freshly ground coffee beans hit me like a wave - nothing like the generic hotel stuff they tried to pass off as actual coffee.
"What's your poison, Hudson?" I glanced at the elaborate menu board, though I already knew what I wanted.
Hudson's eyes darted between the menu and his watch. "Perhaps just a quick espresso-"
"Relax. We've got time." I turned to the barista. "One large double-shot americano and..." I raised an eyebrow at Hudson.
"The same, please. But with an extra shot." Hudson's fingers drummed against the counter.
"Make that two extra shots; he might actually slow down to human speed," I smirked.
The barista stifled a laugh while Hudson shot me a half-exasperation, half-amusement look.
We claimed a table by the window, and I watched Hudson check his watch for the thousandth time.
"Hudson, serious question." I leaned forward. "Were you born after the standard nine months, or did you burst out early because you couldn't wait?"
He nearly choked on his coffee. "I... what?"
"Just curious if this..." I gestured to his general state of perpetual motion, "started in the womb. Did you have a schedule for your own birth?"
A smile cracked through his professional facade. "Actually, sir, I was right on time. Down to the exact due date."
"Of course you were." I couldn't help but laugh. "Probably had your own little prenatal calendar in there."
"You've got quite the sense of humor, Mr. Blackwood." Hudson's shoulders finally relaxed a fraction. "My mother does say I kicked rather frequently."
"Practicing your power walking before you could walk?" I took another sip of my coffee. "Makes perfect sense."
Hudson actually laughed for the first time since I'd met him - a genuine, unguarded sound. "My wife says the same thing. Claims I probably came out of the womb with a checklist."
"Now that's an image." I glanced at my watch - still plenty of time.
Hudson had finally started to unwind, his coffee cup half-empty and his tablet forgotten on the table. A miracle in itself.
"Sir, about the Richardson presentation-"
"Hudson, I swear if you mention that presentation one more time, I'm shipping you to our Antarctica office." I took another sip of my Americano. "Do we even have an Antarctica office? If not, I'll build one just for you."
"But sir-"
"Penguins, Hudson. Your new coworkers will be penguins."
"Mr. Blackwood, you're under arrest."
I nearly spat out my coffee.