Chapter 3 #2
I tuned him out, focusing instead on Hudson. The bastard had deliberately hijacked my venue tour, bringing in his own vendor to undermine my presentation. This was supposed to be my chance to showcase my vision without his interference.
“Excuse me,” I interrupted Criss’s enthusiastic description of some exotic flower I’d never heard of. “But I have a scheduled tour with the clients in fifteen minutes, and I need to prepare.”
“We’re all touring together,” Hudson said smoothly. “Manny texted me this morning.”
“How convenient that you knew about this change of plans before I did.”
“Perhaps you should check your messages more carefully.”
I pulled out my phone and, sure enough, there was a text from Manny that I’d missed.
Combining the venue tour with Hudson and his florist. Efficiency!
Sent three hours ago. Right after I’d confirmed with Lia.
Hudson watched me, the corner of his mouth lifted in a grin. My fingers itched to wipe it off his face, either with a slap or with my lips. Both urges were equally disturbing.
The clients arrived before I could decide which would be more satisfying. Lia breezed in with Manny following closely behind.
“Mari! Hudson!” Lia embraced us both like we were old friends. “I’m so excited to see this space. And Criss! Wonderful to see you again.”
Criss bowed. “Ms. Martin, Mr. Kussikov. It’s an honor to be considered for your celebration.”
I shot Hudson a look. He’d already established a relationship between the clients and his vendor. Strike one against me.
The tour began with Penelope leading us through the various spaces of the venue. I forced myself to focus, mentally adjusting my presentation on the fly. I couldn’t showcase my emotional storytelling approach as planned, not with Hudson and his floral minion tagging along.
“So, Mari,” Lia said as we entered the garden space. “Tell us how you envision using this area.”
Finally, my opening. I stepped forward, portfolio ready. I’d printed out extra copies of my plan and laid them out on a nearby table for Lia and Manny to see.
“This space is the heart of your love story,” I began, pointing down at the blueprint of the venue before gesturing around us. “Imagine entering through an archway of lights that mimics the constellations visible on the night you met—”
“Actually,” Hudson interrupted, “the ambient lighting from traditional fixtures would create a warmer, more controlled atmosphere. The structural integrity of this glass ceiling makes complex installations challenging.”
My smile was tight as I tried to keep my annoyance from reaching my eyes. “The stars are a metaphor. I’m not suggesting we rearrange the actual cosmos, Mr. Gable.”
“Metaphors don’t hold up chandeliers,” he replied.
“The stars would be projection mapping,” I clarified for the clients. “Advanced technology that creates an immersive experience while respecting the venue’s structural limitations.”
“Projection mapping requires precise calibration and is susceptible to technical failures,” Hudson countered. “A more reliable approach—”
“Is a boring one,” I finished for him. “Sure, we could play it safe with some basic uplighting and call it a day. Or we could create something magical that your guests will remember forever.”
Manny looked between us, clearly entertained. “You both make compelling arguments.”
“Perhaps we should see the rest of the venue before deciding,” Lia suggested.
The tour continued with Hudson and me trading thinly veiled jabs disguised as professional opinions. By the time we reached the bridal suite, I was ready to strangle him with his perfectly knotted tie.
“This would make an excellent staging area for the bridal party,” Hudson was saying. “With a well-organized timeline, we can ensure everyone is ready exactly when needed.”
“Because nothing says ‘romantic wedding day’ like being treated like a new cadet in military training,” I muttered.
“Structure creates freedom. When everyone knows their role and timing, the day flows seamlessly,” Hudson replied.
“Or it becomes so rigid that there’s no room for genuine moments,” I countered. “Some of the most beautiful wedding photos I’ve seen were spontaneous. A father’s tears when he first sees his daughter, a private laugh between the couple.”
“Those moments can be scheduled.”
“You can’t schedule emotion, Mr. Gable,” I sneered his name.
“You can create the conditions for it.”
We were standing too close again, the professional facade slipping as our argument intensified.
“Let’s move on to the catering kitchen,” Penelope suggested.
“Excellent. I’ve already set up my presentation in the room outside there. We can stop on our way and check them out,” Hudson said, eyeing me over his shoulder. Of course he was already set up.
As we followed Penelope, I reached for my coffee, balancing my portfolio and tablet awkwardly. Hudson was directly in front of me, his presentation boards displayed on a table we were passing.
What happened next was an accident. Mostly.
My elbow caught the edge of the table, jostling my coffee cup. The lid popped off, and before I could catch it, dark liquid splashed across Hudson’s pristine presentation boards. Three of them were instantly soaked, the carefully printed text bleeding into illegibility.
“Oh my god!” I gasped, setting down my cup. “I’m so sorry!”
Hudson turned, his eyes widening. For a split second, his perfect composure cracked, revealing something furious underneath. Then, just as quickly, the mask slid back into place.
“No harm done,” he said, his voice so tight it might snap. “I have digital copies.”
“Let me help clean up,” I offered, reaching for the napkins Penelope was already rushing over with.
“That won’t be necessary,” Hudson said, easing the damaged boards away from the undamaged ones. “Accidents happen.”
But the way he emphasized “accidents” made it clear he didn’t believe it was one.
Manny cleared his throat. “Perhaps we should take a brief break? Lia and I have a call in fifteen minutes, anyway.”
“Excellent idea,” Lia agreed. “Hudson, Mari, why don’t you two... sort this out while we step away?”
They left with Penelope and Criss, leaving Hudson and me alone.
The moment the door closed, Hudson rounded on me. “That was deliberate.”
“It was an accident,” I insisted, though it was only about 70% true.
“Just like it was an accident when you knocked over the candle at the expo?”
“That was completely different!”
“Was it?” He stepped closer, invading my personal space. “You’re sabotaging me because you know your approach is inferior.”
“Inferior?” I sputtered, stepping forward instead of back. “My approach is innovative and personal. Yours is cold and mechanical.”
“My approach is reliable and professional. Yours is unpredictable.”
“At least mine has heart!”
“Heart doesn’t execute flawless events!”
We were practically nose to nose now, or as close as we could get with our height difference. His eyes had darkened from their usual clear green to a deeper emerald tone. My heart raced, and I couldn’t tell if it was from anger or something else.
“You think you’re so perfect,” I hissed. “With your perfect suits and your perfect hair and your perfect plans. But I know better.”
His jaw tightened. “You know nothing about me.”
“I know enough,” I whispered. I knew how his hands trembled slightly when he was aroused, how his breath caught when I touched him in just the right spot, how his eyes blazed with need when he came undone.
Something flashed in his eyes. Hunger or rage or both. For a wild moment, I thought he might kiss me. Fuck. For an even wilder moment, I almost wanted him to.
Instead, he took a deliberate step back. “We have a job to do,” he said, his voice low. “For the next two months, we’re going to work together professionally. No personal attacks. No sabotage. No... distractions.”
“Fine,” I agreed, trying to ignore the irrational disappointment curling in my stomach. “Professional competitors.”
“Professional competitors,” he echoed, extending his hand.
I hesitated before taking it. His palm was warm against mine, his grip firm but not aggressive. The simple touch sent a jolt up my arm. Those same hands had explored every inch of me.
We separated quickly.
“I’ll replace the damaged boards,” I offered, surprising myself.
“Don’t bother. I always have backups.” Of course he did.
We spent the next ten minutes in uncomfortable silence, straightening the room and collecting our materials before the clients returned.
I realized I’d left my printed plans in the garden space, and since the couple hadn’t returned yet, I went to get them.
Unfortunately, someone must’ve of thrown them away once we left because the table had been cleared.
It didn’t really matter, except that it meant I’d need to print them again.
By the time I got back to the room where I’d left Hudson, Lia and Manny were also returning.
Lia breezed back in and glanced between us. “Everything sorted?”
“Completely,” I assured her.
“Excellent. Now, about the guest list. We’re looking at approximately 350 people, split between the ceremony and reception...”
The rest of the venue tour proceeded without incident. By the time we wrapped up, it was after 4 PM, and we were expected at our new shared workspace by 5.
“We’ll see you both at the office,” Manny said as we parted ways outside the venue. “Try not to destroy the place before we get there.”
“No promises,” I muttered under my breath.
Hudson and I stood awkwardly on the sidewalk, neither wanting to be the first to leave.
“I’ll see you at the office,” he finally said.
“Yeah.”
As he walked away, I couldn’t help but notice how his suit jacket stretched perfectly across his shoulders, how his posture remained impeccable even after two hours of tension. The man was infuriating, but he wore the hell out of a suit.
I pulled out my phone and called Anica.
“How’d it go?” she asked without preamble.
“I may have accidentally-on-purpose spilled coffee on his presentation boards.”
Anica’s sigh was so deep I could practically feel it through the phone. “Mari.”
“I know, I know. But he ambushed me! He brought his own florist to my venue tour!”
“And how did he react to the coffee?”
“Controlled. Too controlled. Like he was holding back a tsunami.”
“Interesting.”
“What’s interesting?”
“You sound disappointed that he didn’t explode.”
I scoffed. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it? You push people’s buttons, Mari. Always have. You want to see what’s underneath their perfect facades.”
I unlocked my car, sliding into the driver’s seat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do. Just be careful. This isn’t just about your rivalry with Hudson. It’s about the Chicago expansion, your career, our business.”
“I know that. I won’t mess this up. I promise.”
“Good. Now show that perfectionist what you’re made of. Professionally.”
I laughed despite myself. “Yes, boss.”
We hung up, and I sat in my car for a moment, gathering my thoughts. Anica was right. This was too important to mess up with petty rivalry or inconvenient attraction. I needed to focus, to be strategic, to showcase my talents without letting Hudson get under my skin.
Two months. Eight weeks. Approximately sixty days of working side by side with Hudson Gable.
I could do that. Maybe. I hoped. Unfortunately, it’d be harder because I’d be sharing an office with a man who made me want to simultaneously punch him in the face and tear his clothes off.
Forget wedding planning—surviving this arrangement without either killing him or jumping him would be the real challenge.