Abyss (Elements of Rapture Book 4)

6. Hudson

HUDSON

“Just when I think you have something that might resemble an actual heart left inside you, you go and change my mind.”

I’m still turned toward the blank projection screen, my hand in a fist over my laptop, unwilling to make eye contact with Belinda.

The room cleared out a few minutes ago, but I knew she would stay back to hand me my ass.

Her voice drips with contempt unlike I’ve ever heard. It isn’t mere disappointment at my choice of words telling an unsuspecting employee to scroll social media on their own time; it’s unadulterated disgust for the way I spoke to Kavi.

“You’re an asshole, Hudson Case, and if you have even an ounce of decency left inside you, you’ll apologize to her.”

“Apologize?”I reel back, turning to her, and immediately regret doing so. Not only is Belinda’s flushed and furious face at the center of my vision, but I notice her through the glass windows, seated behind Belinda’s desk. Her eyes are trained on her computer screen, but I get the feeling she has no idea what she’s even looking at.

A frown pulls down the corners of her lips and it pisses me off that I’m the reason for it.

I haven’t fucking slept.

I swear, between thinking about whether we’re going to close this deal with Rose City Skyport and my new admin, I’m running on an hour of fragmented sleep.

The sound of her sniffle reverberated inside my head like it was an amphitheater all fucking night. I tossed and turned, knowing I’d have to see her again this morning. Her pouty, bee-stung lips, those ridiculous curves, and those doleful, amber-colored eyes—the ones that said so much more than she allowed her words to say.

There’s a sadness behind her smiles, an exaggeration she’s practiced. Like she thinks she has to pay the price for each one day. Like maybe she’s paying for them now.

But what I don’t understand is why I notice. Why, in the short and disastrous meetings we’ve had, have I noticed the wariness in her eyes or her practiced smiles?

And furthermore, why do I care?

“Yes, Hudson.” Belinda’s head bobs condescendingly. “You know the thing a person says to another person when they’ve made a mistake?”

“Mistake?”I hook her with my piercing glare, though I know it does nothing but piss her off more. “I’m not the one who came in over an hour late, dressed like I was going to a Bohemian rock concert. I have standards that I expect every employee to abide by. I’ve made those abundantly clear, and it’s what’s made this company successful—”

“Oh, wake the fuck up!” Belinda’s voice slices through my words, but it”s her next words that scrape at a scab that refuses to heal. “It’s also the reason Jett was able to take your staff—why they willingly left. Because your standards are unreasonable and make for a stressful and resentful work environment. The only reason most people haven’t left is because you pay better than our competitors, but remember, time changes all.”

It’s not the first time I’ve heard a disgruntled employee talk about my unreasonable standards, but it’s the first time Belinda has been this forthright.

Maybe there is truth to her words. Maybe I have held people to standards that no longer make sense, but it’s not something I’m willing to admit just yet.

Belinda rolls her chair back with a resigned sigh, as if she’s exasperated with what she already knows I’ll do. “It’s your company, Hudson. Run it the way you want, what do I care?” She rises, gathering a few papers in her arms. “I just thought you should know that things aren’t as black and white as they seem. That girl,” she throws a thumb over her shoulder, indicating Kavi, “has been nothing but grateful for this job. In just one day, she’s taken on more work than I thought possible for someone who doesn’t know our industry or our clients. Did you know she reworked the RCS slide deck over the weekend? I thought she could use it to get up-to-speed on the excavation project for them before her official first day, but she sent it back to me with improvements I hadn’t even considered.”

She walks to the door before turning over her shoulder, her voice defeated. “She told me how badly she needs this job—she wouldn’t commute more than an hour if she didn’t. Her car broke down today so she had to take the subway. And in case you don’t remember this from the days you weren’t all rich and mighty, shitty weather and shitty subways equate to delays.”

Her words spark the memory of what Maddy told me a few days ago. “I have a friend who desperately needs a job . . . she’s had a rough year . . .” And before I’m even sure why I’m asking, I hear the words tumble from my lips. “Why does she need this job so badly?”

Belinda halts her movements, closing the partially opened door, and my eyes trail back to the woman at Belinda’s desk who hasn’t moved.

Even under the harsh office lights, her skin looks flawless, her button nose delicately sculpted on her face. How could a woman be so captivating in her silence, yet be so fucking loud?

She’s somehow louder than the blaring sirens inside my head, warning me not to get involved, reminding me that her problems aren’t mine. That I have several of my own I still need to heft my way through.

My eyes track back to Belinda, noting a hint of something new in her expression—an awareness of something I’m clearly not privy to. The corner of her mouth pulls into a slanted smirk before she rests her hand on her belly. “You can ask her yourself . . . after you apologize.”

Workingmy hands into the pockets of my suit pants, I clear my throat. “Ms. Jain, can I see you in my office?”

Kavi’s hands stall over her keyboard, though I’m not sure she was even typing anything—merely pretending as soon as she saw me in her periphery.

Belinda murmurs something about needing to use the restroom and waddles down the hall before Kavi swipes me with a side glance.

Her long dark lashes flutter before her nostrils flare so slightly, I’d miss them if I wasn’t looking closely. “Why? So you can humiliate me again?” She turns, pulling a sheet of paper out of the printer. “Well, you can save your breath, Mr. Case, because—”

“I’m sorry.”

Jesus, fuck, those words practically burned my tongue on their way out. It’s a good reminder why I don’t use them often.

Kavi’s hand hovers in the air with the paper hanging from her pinched fingers, her nails polished orange. Her mouth falls slightly agape. “Excuse me?”

I exhale a hard breath. Is she expecting me to repeat myself?

Because I don’t do that.

“Ms. Jain, if you’re thinking I’m going to clasp my hands in front of you and beg for your forgiveness, you’ll be waiting a while. I said I was sorry, and that’s about as much as you’ll get from me.”

She rises from her seat, her hand trembling as she releases the paper on her desk before she tucks a strand of that shiny, wavy hair behind her ear. Today, there are plastic kiwi slices dangling from her ears, matching the kiwi on her shirt and the shiny green skirt that tightens delectably over her hips.

The woman has . . . eclectic taste, that’s for sure, and I’m not even counting the orange Doc Martens on her feet. Clearly, she has a thing for the color orange, too.

She wraps her arms around her chest, and the movement causes my gaze to dip to her ample cleavage.

Did I just ogle her cleavage and hips?

Not for the first time in her presence, my cock stirs inside my pants, and I remind myself that she’s twenty-five. Younger than my own daughter.

I’d pulled up her HR records, including her age and address, in the conference room before I exited. Apparently, she lives on the other side of the damn Bay. Getting here by car is shitty enough every day, having to take not one, but two subways would drive a person crazy—especially given the hours I expect her to work.

“Then, I guess I’ll have to think about your apology, Mr. Case, given I don’t really know what you’re apologizing for.”

It’s my turn to open and shut my mouth before I repeat her previous words. “Excuse me?”

Is this the same jittery woman who’s been nothing but a ball of nerves during all of our interactions? Because right now, she reminds me of the other two women in my life, with her eyes flashing and her upright stance.

She lifts her chin, her rapid blinking and the rise and fall of her chest the only indication of her apprehension. “Over the past week, I not only lost a job because of you, but I’ve been publicly shamed in front of my new colleagues—”

“Both of those things were your fault!” I seethe.

“Well, then I suppose you have no reason to apologize, do you?”

I raise my arms, letting them fall to my sides. “And yet, here I am!”

The woman is infuriating. A contradiction of bold and timid, soft and unyielding.

Innocence and sin.

Her face hardens before she turns, running her hands over her hips and giving me an eyeful of that fucking peach ass. She settles in front of her laptop again, speaking to it as if I’m no longer present. “Clearly, you need lessons in expressing contrition, because if that’s your form of an apology, then I don’t accept.”

I swear I hold in the growl ready to expel from my throat with everything I have. My hands fist at my sides as I sear her profile with my glare. “Your choice. It’s the best you’re going to get.”

And with that, I storm down the hall to my office for the second day in a row.

Well,now I have yet another fucking thing to apologize for.

I press the tips of my fingers to my forehead, closing my eyes and focusing on my breathing.

Except, every inhale is laced with something sweet. Like vanilla and lemons. Like fucking icing and sugar. It’s not just infuriating, it’s downright maddening.

Only a week ago, I had no knowledge, no memory of this particular scent, except maybe when I entered a bakery. And though I can’t say it’s overpowering in the way she wears it, it’s all I can think about now.

After locking myself in my office post my failed apology this morning, I finally left for a meeting a couple of hours ago.

Except, I found her in Jett’s typically locked, off-limits office.

Without taking the time to understand why she was there—apparently, a building manager was inspecting fire alarms, and she was waiting for him to be finished—I unleashed another harsh tirade, telling her to leave the room or risk being fired.

Yeah, not my finest moment, indeed, especially when her irate and hurt eyes flashed at me before she silently moved past me, letting me piece together the situation.

I run my hand down my face.

Just like yesterday, Belinda sent me an email letting me know she was leaving. And just like yesterday, I’ve given her—and my new admin—more reasons to be disappointed.

Not only that, but Maddy messaged me an hour ago—How are things going with Kavi?—to which I still haven’t formulated an answer. But I know that if I don’t reply soon, my bloodhound of a daughter will be knocking down my door in curiosity.

Fuck, this is a disaster.

My phone vibrates with an incoming call, and seeing Jared’s name on the screen, I take a hopeful breath. He’s our main contact at Rose City Skyport and right now, with how shitty my day seems to have gone yet again, all I’m looking for is some semblance of good news.

“Jared, how’s it going?” I turn, leaning back in my chair to look out the wall-to-wall windows behind me.

The sun made a fleeting appearance today, shining brightly for all of ten minutes. But now, under the shroud of darkness, only the hints of twinkling lights from nearby buildings bravely glimmer through the ongoing downpour.

“Good evening, Hudson. I have some good news for you.” Thank God. “The team is ready to sign the contract with Case Geo—”

“Wonderful!” I cheer, running a hand through my hair and imagining my brother and his fiancée’s dejected faces when they find out they didn’t win the contract. “That’s great news!”

“It is . . .” he trails off for a second before speaking again. “However, Silas wants to meet you and Kavi this week before we officially sign. Can you fly over Thursday night? The three of you can go to dinner, and then, if all goes well, we can finalize details and sign Friday morning.”

My brows pinch. Did he just say Kavi? How does he know her already, and why does their CEO want to meet her? “Kavi?”

Jared chuckles on the other side. “Yes. Your new assistant? Belinda sent us an email introducing her, since she’ll be dialing down at work starting next week. She also attached the updated version of the slides Kavi worked on, and Silas was pretty impressed. Said he wanted to meet her before we put ink to paper. He’s old-school like that and always wants to meet the people he works with in person.”

My head dips and I find I’ve been rubbing circles on my sternum, as if trying to release a constriction inside my chest.

What the fuck?

He wants to meet Kavi? A woman I haven’t even vetted properly. A woman who’s been nothing but a headache since the moment I met her. A woman who’s been the bane of my existence over the past week.

And as if she can hear my thoughts—probably can, given I’m pretty sure she’s a witch—a knock sounds on my door before she enters.

With the phone still pressed to my ear, I watch her hips sway in her tight skirt as she takes long strides to my desk, paper in hand. Her bulky Docs thump with each step.

My eyes trail up to her cinched waist before briefly halting on her breasts. The woman looks like a perfect figure-eight in her attire, and fuck if that doesn’t piss me off just a little more.

I noticed her as soon as she came in this morning, her poor excuse for a raincoat dripping over my carpeted floor. Through the conference room windows, I watched her visibly relax, seeing no one was around, before she rushed over to Belinda’s desk and pulled a few tissues out of a box.

Caleb was showing everyone the financial projections on the screen at the front of the room, but at that moment, I couldn’t say what was on them or whether he was speaking in English or French. My eyes were stuck to the magnetic pull that was Kavi Jain, as she leaned over, wiping mud off her precious shoes. Her partially wet hair was pulled to one side as she focused on her task.

And when she shifted, her gray shirt shifted with her, the neck dropping to give me—and anyone who faced in the same direction—an expo of her fucking tits.

Tits I’d noticed, whether I wanted to or not, from the second I laid eyes on her. Tits I’d thought about. Tits I’d fucking jacked off to over the course of the past few days.

A snarl built inside me as I curled my hand in a fist, watching those tits swing.

God, how I wanted to fuck them right in that moment, imagining my cock sliding in between them while she licked the pre-cum off my tip.

And just like that, I was more furious with that image—and the fact that any asshole looking in her direction was probably imagining the same thing—than the fact that she’d come in late.

A smirk ghosts over her lips as she leaves the paper on my desk before turning around to sashay through the door, leaving me completely dumbstruck.

“Hudson? You still there?”

Jared’s voice has me bouncing out of my daze before I clear my throat and pick up the paper she left. “Yeah, I . . . let me see what I can do.”

I skim through what looks like . . . a fucking resignation letter?!

Dear Mr. Case,

Effective immediately, I’ve decided to disembark the pleasure cruise that is Case Geo. Thank you for giving me a glimpse of your management style and for this very memorable character-building experience. Unfortunately, I won’t be staying on for more of the fun and festivities.

Wishing you all the best in dressing-down your next admin.

Regards,

Kavita Jain

Motherfucker!

“I know it’s last minute, but this is a big project for us.” Jared’s voice jolts me once again into action and I’m rising out of my seat as he continues, “We want to make sure any changes in your staff work for us, too, especially for such a key role since your admin is one of our primary contacts with Case Geo and does so much more than just manage your calendar. I don’t expect any issues, given Silas already liked Kavi’s work, but it always helps to meet in person.”

With my heart hammering in my chest, I hang up with Jared and crumble her resignation in my fist. Then, I do something I’d vowed never to do.

I chase after a quitter.