Abyss (Elements of Rapture Book 4)

3. Hudson

HUDSON

Maddy

Don’t be late, Pops. I don’t want to have to play the my-dad-is-a-workaholic-and-doesn’t-have-time-for-his-daughter card, but I’m not above it.

The corners of my mouth lift as the text bubble lights up on my phone, but movement in front of my office door catches my eyes.

Belinda taps the doorframe, her brows raised before she’s even asked the question. Even at five-foot-one and eight months pregnant, she commands attention. Besides the fact that the woman is meticulous at everything she does, her ability to look me in the eyes and not sugarcoat her words are the reasons I hired her to be my admin. Unlike everyone else, she doesn’t tiptoe around me. Hell, there are days I feel like I’m the one tiptoeing around her.

“You’re going to be late. And you know how much Madison hates that. If you leave now, you might still make it to dinner without getting an earful from your daughter.”

I shut the screen of my laptop. She’s right. No amount of work—from the slides I still have to do for the board presentation, to the contract I still need to revise for the new airport site my company’s excavating—is worth Maddy’s wrath. Nor is it worth missing out on a date with my daughter. Plus, I hate tardiness myself—timeliness being one of the first things I instilled in her as a kid—so I’d deserve her wrath if I was late.

Rising, I grab the suit jacket hanging on the back of my chair. “Why are you still here?”

Belinda locks a hand on her hip, her brown hair dusting over her shoulders. “And where else am I supposed to be? I’m here because my asshole boss refuses to leave until,” she turns her wrist to look at her watch, “seven-ten PM, and I feel bad leaving before him.”

I put my phone in my pocket and head toward the door, feeling like shit because the woman is literally on her feet and chasing one fire or another all day. Her doctor specifically told her to take it easy this month, given her spikes in blood pressure. I’ve asked her to work from home, but she refuses, stating she needs to be here or things won’t get done right.

And they call me a perfectionist.

“We need to find a replacement for you. Put everything else aside and make it top priority. If we can find someone in the next week or so, hopefully you’ll have enough time to train them.”

She walks ahead of me, heels tapping on the tile, and I try to avoid the empty office across the hall from mine. Let me rephrase: I can’t glance at it without balling my fists so tight, I might draw blood from my palms. Even after two years, the stench of betrayal lingers heavily around it, threatening to seep into the walls.

I’ve always run a tight ship, demanding exemplary performance and unwavering dedication, but after the way shit went down two years ago . . . let’s just say, I’ve taken any hint of leniency completely off the table. Now, I value loyalty as much as hard work.

Belinda speaks over her shoulder. “It’s easy for you to say, but interviews, background checks, HR approvals . . . they all take time. And let’s not even mention your stellar track record with admins—”

“Hey, you’ve stuck around for three years.”

She shoots me a wry look. “Count your blessings.” At the slight lift of my lips, she continues, “You’d already fired three admins before me, and when I took one month off last year to go on my honeymoon, you fired the temp!”

“He started off our staff meeting by asking everyone to express how they felt that day using emojis.”

Belinda presses her lips together like she’s trying not to laugh. “In any case, I need to add ‘emotional resilience’ to the job requirements.”

Something in her words triggers an image in my mind—a face I haven’t been able to erase from my thoughts for three days.

The way a single tear rolled over the bottom of her lid before falling on my hand, burning my skin like it was acid. The fear and uncertainty in her amber-colored eyes. The glint of a tiny diamond on the right side of her upper lip.

Her anxiety was palpable through her shaky hands and her stuttered words. And the asshole in me—the one who failed to acknowledge the fact that she was probably half my age—couldn’t stop myself from homing in on the way her lips trembled, the way they parted when our eyes connected.

And those fucking hands hesitantly trying to mop up the ice water she’d spilled on my lap . . .?

Jesus. There was no reason for the raging boner I had, given my dick was practically frozen inside my pants, but clearly my brain wasn’t in charge of my body.

It wasn’t until my friend Dev’s snickering reached across the table that I snapped out of whatever trance I was in. I noticed her bent over with her face practically in my crotch, her ass inside that short-as-fuck skirt on full display for the entire restaurant.

And I saw red.

I’d already had a hellish workday, and my mood was at an all-time low. My irritation spiked, overshadowing the impending migraine from a damn cork launched at my head.

What I wanted to do was tell her to go put some fucking clothes on, to stop waving her ass in the air for the table of men behind her, who were more than happy to get an eyeful. But what I ended up saying left a bitter taste in my mouth afterward. Like those words shouldn’t have even formed in the first place.

“That’s about all the incompetence this restaurant can handle for one day. Please turn in your badge and clock out. This will be your last day working here.”

A part of me wanted to take them back, especially as I watched her walk away, shoulders deflated. But I couldn’t.

Because who would I be if I couldn’t stand by my words? If I didn’t follow through? If I let things slide, even once?

Isn’t that how I got into my current predicament, by letting things slide? I can’t even look at the damn office that’s been empty for two years.

Belinda’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts. “Hurry up and get out of here before Madison starts blowing up my phone looking for you.”

I’m just about to enter the elevator when Belinda rushes over, making me worry she’s going to topple. “Oh! I wanted to ask, do you need anything for your meeting in Portland tomorrow? I already have you checked in on your morning flight.”

I shake my head. “I’m all set. Now, will you please stop working?”

She huffs, “I will as soon as you find me a replacement.” Her brows rise, a hopeful look in her eyes. “Who knows, maybe we’ll have the perfect person walking through these elevator doors on Monday.”

Maddy cutsa piece of her salmon before forking it into her mouth and taking the last sip of her Sauvignon Blanc. Both our waters need refilling as well.

My gaze travels around the restaurant, looking for Stella, and I exhale a frustrated breath. She’s been rather inattentive with our table today, and I’m inclined to put her on the spot the next time she comes over. This is not the type of service I expect at my restaur—

“Dad,” Maddy’s voice steals my attention. “It’s a busy Thursday night, and I’m not going to die without a refill on my wine. Stop looking around for Stella; she’ll come by soon enough.” She takes another bite of her salmon before looking at my empty plate. I’d devoured my entire meal ten minutes ago. “Gramps would have loved this place, you know. He would have been proud of everything you and Uncle Jett have accomplished.”

She studies my reaction carefully, surely noticing the way I tense at the mention of my younger brother and co-owner of this restaurant. But because the last thing I want to do is rehash my complicated feelings about my brother and his betrayal, I simply nod.

She’s right; Dad would have been proud.

Witnessing his dream of opening a restaurant serving some of his favorite seafood dishes come to fruition would have given us one of his rare smiles. It’s what he’d always wanted, and what both Jett and I envisioned after he died.

We’d both grown up working on Dad’s fish charter, navigating the waters of South Lake Tahoe. Unlike the life we live now, there was no golden veneer. No struggle for power and prestige; no expensive champagne and handmade watches.

Just the scent of lake water, hard work, and humility.

Sure, Dad managed his business differently than I would have. His decisions—like giving employees too much leniency for tardiness, or not setting standards of exemplary service on fishing trips, or not scrutinizing his finances carefully—used to drive me crazy.

But it was those decisions, and the fact that I practically watched Dad’s small business turn to dust due to his oversight, that hardened me in my own ways. Even at a young age, I knew I’d do things differently if I ever ran my own company.

“How’s work?” Madison asks, sitting back in her seat. “Did you guys secure that contract with the new airport? What are they called?” She snaps her fingers. “Rose City Skyport, right? Will Case Geo excavate the new site?”

I pinch the bridge of my nose.

Just the thought of the hurdles we’ve jumped through for this client has my head pounding. If they weren’t so strategic for my efforts to establish Case Geo as the premier company specializing in environmentally conscious airport planning, I wouldn’t be bending over backward, revising our standard contracts for them. But as it stands, with the ridiculous amount Case Geo stands to gain from this client alone, they’ve got me by the fucking balls.

“We’ll secure them.” My jaw tightens, recalling our clients are also shopping around with our rivals—the same ones my brother and my ex-girlfriend left to work for. “We’re the better choice in terms of expertise and experience.”

Maddy leans forward, her eyes gleaming in that way I’ve seen all her life, when she’s preparing to ask me something she knows I might object to and brace myself. “Hey, Dad . . .”

At twenty-nine, being an immensely accomplished person herself, there’s not a whole lot my daughter asks from me, but I won’t deny that I like being the person she can still come to when she does need something.

It’s just that her requests are now a bit more . . . worrisome than the ones she used to ask for as a kid, like ice cream for dinner or to borrow my sports car to impress her then girlfriend. For example, her request to go shark cage diving for her birthday because her fiancée refused to. Needless to say, I tried not to pass the fuck out when a tiger shark zoomed toward us. Even with my extensive appreciation of marine geology, I’ve never been happier to set my feet back on solid ground.

She steeples her fingers together under her chin, as if she already knows she might need to pray for this one. “So, I need a little fav—”

“No,” I respond before she can use those wide blue eyes to pierce my resolve. I’m no idiot; the kid’s been conning me with that look her whole life, and she’ll probably succeed again today.

I won’t admit it, but I’ve always been a willing sucker for it.

I suppose it’s the guilt that sometimes comes from being a single parent—the one where you play both the good and bad cop. The worry you’ve worn the bad cop hat more than the good one lately, wondering if you’re not enough to fill in for the missing parent, the one she probably yearns for every single day. And though she tells you that you’re enough, that you’ve always been enough, you still wonder if she’s just sparing your feelings.

At only seventeen and living in different states, her mother and I weren’t destined to be together. She was visiting her friend in Lake Tahoe over the summer when we ran into each other at a party that led to a one-night thing.

A year later, she dropped Madison off at my doorstep with a note admitting she wasn’t meant to be a mom. And though she’d left her phone number scribbled at the bottom of the note, I never called her.

In fact, neither did Maddy—not when I gave her the phone number when she was eight, and then again when she was a teen.

I can only guess what her reasons were for not reaching out to her mom, but mine were simple: I don’t chase after quitters, never have and never will. And her mom had done exactly that when she’d flown back to Tahoe with our three-month-old—never having told me she was even pregnant—to drop her off at my door and fly back without a single word spoken to me. She may have left me her phone number to ease her conscience, but in my mind, the doors of communication were closed.

“You haven’t even heard what I have to say!” Maddy throws her hands up. “It’s not bad, I promise. In fact, it’d be really good for you.”

I highly doubt that, but I ask anyway. “Fine. What is it?”

She’s about to answer when Stella comes back to our table to pour us both more water and asks us if we want refills on our wine. We both agree, but I notice she doesn’t make eye contact with me.

I stop her before she can leave with our empty plates. “Is there something you want to say, Stella? You’ve been a bit lacking in your service—”

“Dad.” Madison tilts her blonde head, reminiscent of her mother’s hair color, giving me a warning look. While I raised her to be disciplined and tough, I’m realizing, now that she’s all grown up, sometimes those traits backfire on me.

I take a breath, softening my tone toward Stella, and hating the fact that I even care. She makes a decent paycheck working here and has been one of our best employees, but if hard work is no longer something that interests her, then I have no qualms about telling her to hand in her notice. “It’s just that you seem off lately.”

There. That’s about as nice as I can manage.

Stella swallows, blinking rapidly as her head swings from Madison to me. “It’s . . . we’re understaffed and overworked. I’m pretty sure you can see that. But you’ve fired the two servers we’ve hired over the past three weeks. At this point, it doesn’t seem like you even want to give people a chance to learn—”

“Maybe if you would spend more time letting them shadow you, I wouldn’t have to interact with servers who are clearly unprepared.”

“None of us have the time or the bandwidth to train a new person extensively, and some of this is trial by fire. We need to allow people to make a few mistakes.”

“Absolutely not,” I grit before catching Maddy’s raised brows again. She’s . . . disappointed, and that irks me like nothing else. I close my eyes, trying to center myself for a moment. “Fine. I’ll go a little easier on the next person, but perhaps wait until they’re a bit seasoned before they’re in charge of my table.”

“Thank you.” Stella’s shoulders release with a sigh before she walks away to get us more wine.

Maddy’s half smile is obvious behind the fingers over her mouth. “I’m proud of you, Dad. Looks like an old dog can learn new tricks after all.” At my responding glare, she quickly adds, “So, about that woman you’re going to hire to replace Belinda for the next three months . . .”

Wait a minute. Did I just miss some vital information I don’t recall ever getting?

“What woman? What are you talking about?”

“You’re still looking for Belinda’s replacement, aren’t you?”

“Yes, but—”

Maddy steamrolls right past me. “I have a friend who desperately needs a job for a few months. She just graduated with a masters in art therapy and has a permanent position with a hospital in Portland starting at the end of summer, and—”

“How does that have anything to do with a company that specializes in Earth Sciences?” That pounding headache I referred to earlier is getting worse.

“Dad, she’s smart and talented. I’m positive she can learn whatever you need her to. She’s just had a rough year and has piled up a few bills. And while she hasn’t been an admin before, I’ve volunteered with her at multiple events. She’s very dedicated and a quick learner. She even teaches free art classes to kids suffering from anxiety on the weekends.”

When I don’t respond, I swear her eyes get rounder and her bottom lip pops out. It doesn’t matter how old your kid gets, I can attest to the fact that it’s fucking hard to say no.

“Please, Dad.”

I groan, running my hand over my face. There aren’t many people who can muscle me into doing things, but one of them happens to be my biggest weakness and the woman sitting across the table from me. The other being my best friend, Garrett. “Fine. Have her come in for an interview with Belinda tomorrow. I’ll be in Portland but—”

“Yay! Thank you!” Maddy covers her lips with the tips of her fingers and sends me an air kiss. “I owe you big time. And if it’s not too much to ask, can you not fire her like the servers Stella was talking about? I know you’re a stickler, but just remember, she’s my friend, too.”

My jaw tightens as I shove away thoughts of the amber-eyed, anxious woman I’d fired a few days ago. “The only thing you owe me is a dance at your wedding.”

Maddy lifts the new glass of wine Stella just brought us, and I clink mine with hers. “Oh, come on, you know I’d never forget my pops.”

I take a sip. “Now, tell me all about how the wedding planning is going.”