THE PRESENTER, ONE OF Bold’s mid-level executives here in Tokyo, has a droning voice, but my inattention at this morning’s meeting has absolutely everything to do with my daydreams. Of Hudson spending the night at my hotel—our second night of more orgasms than hours of sleep. Hudson waking me up with a kiss. Hudson ordering a large pot of English Breakfast Tea from room service because he knows that I can happily forgo breakfast but cannot start the day without my favourite beverage.
A girl could get used to this...
The man himself, overachiever extraordinaire when it comes to pleasuring me out of my mind, sits across the room near the front. How can I be expected to focus on industry trends and the fund management reports of our top performing portfolio companies with such an absorbing distraction so near?
I observe him in almost fanatical detail, noting the dashing sprinkling of salt-and-pepper grey at his temples, the way his handsome face is fixed with concentration and the cut of the charcoal suit I helped him select this morning from the collection he keeps in a closet at his office.
My pulse thumps behind my breastbone as I recall the tortured look on his face when he confessed how he’d felt envious of my relationship with Sterling. Oh, he was quick enough to remind me that marriage still wasn’t for him, but I’d seen past that to a glimpse of his vulnerable places.
Reading between the lines, interpreting what he didn’t say, I reasoned at times he must have felt excluded and lonely when the three of us were together and Sterling and I were a couple. And yet he’s always seemed so content to be single. So comfortable with his own company.
What if that’s all a front designed to protect himself? And why is that notion so...intriguing?
We’re discussing the final item on the agenda when Hina slips inside the room. She creeps around the edge of the large conference table and hands me a couriered package. I take the bulky brown envelope and absently slide my fingers under the seal while Hudson fires questions at the associate presenting his analysis of the latest business models and forecasts for the Asian division of Bold.
From across the room I catch Hudson’s eye. My insides flip; my body’s Pavlovian response is to expect pleasure when he looks at me that way. On the surface he seems work-focussed, his usual sharp-minded and thorough self. But there’s a gleam in his eye, a layer of heat that makes me shiver and recall his mouth between my legs at the crack of dawn.
I slide my hand inside the envelope, expecting a sheaf of documents or a company prospectus. Instead my fingers encircle a firm, phallic-shaped object that can only be a sex toy.
I freeze with my hand still inside the envelope. My eyes slam back to Hudson’s as my temperature soars. His associate is still talking to the room, spouting facts and figures he no doubt hopes will enamour him to the boss. But, from the small twisted smile on Hudson’s sinful mouth, his mind is elsewhere—on the contents of my envelope, to be precise.
He raises an eyebrow in defiance.
Oh, yes, he’s responsible for this delivery. He’s trying to win the seduction challenge with dirty tactics. How am I supposed to concentrate on work with his thoughtful gift in my hand?
I mouth Bastard at him, shivering with delight when he grins. He wanted me to open it during this meeting. To derail me or make me wild with need for him. I want to laugh. To kiss him until he’s too horny to be smug. Instead I narrow my eyes, wrapping my hand around the toy as I formulate a plan to raise the stakes.
The meeting wraps with Hudson’s ‘Thanks, team—keep up the stellar work.’ I shove the package into my oversized handbag and stand, my belly fluttering with anticipation.
The room clears, leaving Hudson and I alone.
We face each other across the glass-topped table. Sparks zap between us. His plan worked. Faced with only a quick lunch and an afternoon of meetings, I’m tempted to drag him into his office, lock the door and try out his gift.
‘You shouldn’t have...’ My voice is hushed. The door to the outer offices is wide open.
‘Ah, I disagree.’ He pushes his hands inside his pockets and rolls back his shoulders so his chest puffs out.
I want to press my face there so I can feel the thud of his heart and inhale the delicious scent of his freshly laundered shirt.
‘Some gifts are purely selfish.’ His wicked mouth quirks up.
We stare, suspended in a sensual stalemate for a few agonising seconds. Then he caves first, heading for the door and escorting me from the conference room towards the lifts. I check my disappointment that we’re not locking ourselves away in his bedroom with a do not disturb sign on the door.
As we bypass Hina, she holds out my coat.
I take it and glance up at him, trickles of warmth and excitement settling in my stomach. ‘Where are we going?’ Secretive Hudson is irresistible.
He winks, slipping his hand to my back. ‘I’m taking you to see the cherry blossoms—it’s a beautiful spring day.’
I gape, part-delighted, part-disappointed. I really wanted to break open the toy.
‘Come on, Dove, it’s too lovely to be cooped up inside.’
‘It’s...very thoughtful of you but we have...meetings.’ And a gift to unwrap. The fight in me is half-hearted and born of an addiction to his touch. His jubilant and playful mood is contagious. I really do want to see the cherry trees in bloom.
‘Nothing that won’t keep.’ He waggles his eyebrows, as if he’s talking about a sexy rendezvous, not our afternoon of business.
We enter Hudson’s private lift. Recognition zips between his body and mine, despite the perfectly respectable and professional distance we maintain for the benefit of his employees.
The minute the lift doors close, it’s a different matter. We reach for each other in frantic unison. Need drags a gasp from my throat as we kiss. Hudson presses me against the wall so the handrail digs into my back. But I don’t care. I hike up my skirt and he shoves one thick thigh between my legs, the fine wool of his trousers scraping the bare skin at the tops of my thighs above my stockings. I grind against him, desperate for the friction.
His kisses are wild, his fingers strumming my nipple through my blouse and bra. It’s not enough. I want more. I want him to stop this lift and finish what he started with his provocative delivery.
He tears his mouth from mine as the lift slows. ‘Fuck, you drive me to distraction.’
‘That’s what I was going to say.’ I grip the lapels of his suit and bring his mouth back to mine. ‘I’d rather have you than a toy, but I can’t wait to torture you for your sneaky attempt to win this round.’
He chuckles, leaning over to press a code into the panel on the wall, which stops the doors from opening.
His eyes darken, his stare fierce and hot. ‘Hold that thought, Dove.’ He’s hard against me, his hips jerking. ‘Fuck, that meeting was interminably long. I couldn’t concentrate. I wanted to clear the room and do this and then splay you over the conference table.’
‘What would you have done?’ I pant, torturing myself, but also him, for denying me whatever fantasy is in his head.
He groans. ‘Everything. Every single future meeting I have in there, that’s all I’m going to think about. Me eating you out and then fucking you...’
‘Sounds good to me.’ I trail kisses up his neck and over his ear. ‘We should have thought of it the night of the storm when we had the place to ourselves. But let’s park that idea until everyone else has gone home.’
He pulls back, breathless. ‘You have a dirty and devious mind.’ The look he shoots me is layered with the heat and determination that precedes him issuing some sexual order, like Come for me or Touch yourself or Suck me harder.
‘But I agree. No more wasted opportunities.’ He grins, pressing his erection between my legs, and then drags his lips along my neck to my earlobe. ‘Still want to see the cherry blossom...?’
‘No...’ My eyes roll back as he finds exactly the spot that makes my whole body tingle. Fingers of desire dance down my spine. It’s hard to think about anything coherent with his hands roaming. I’m so tempted to abandon sightseeing, even though it’s only been hours since we fell into an exhausted sleep in my hotel. But his reminder last night of his stance on relationships keeps me grounded. Hudson is Hudson. Even though we’re having heaps of great sex, I need to remember what I want. No more rushing in or seeing things that aren’t there.
Plus, I really do want to see the Cherry Blossom Festival.
‘Wait. Yes, I do want to go, although it pains me to say it.’ I shove at him so I can see his face which is harsh with arousal. ‘We could always come back later tonight and do the conference table thing...’
He rests his forehead against mine, catching his breath. ‘If you say so, Miss Goody Two Shoes.’ But there’s humour in his eyes.
I laugh, besotted with his playful side. ‘This does feel kind of naughty—obviously the heavy petting in the lift. But also cancelling meetings. It’s as if we’re bunking school or something?’
He brushes my hair from my cheek. ‘I bet you were far too sensible to have bunked off school.’ He eases back, pushes my skirt down and adjusts his erection.
I feign outrage and then divulge the truth. ‘No, you’re right. But in my defence I had older brothers and sisters always watching me.’ I finger-comb my hair and reapply my lipstick. ‘It was like having four extra parents. I could never get away with anything.’
He buttons his jacket and straightens his tie while I re-tuck my blouse.
‘Ready?’ he says, a rueful grin on his face.
I nod, pasting on a bland expression so I don’t look like a woman who’s been dry-humped against a wall. By the time the lift doors open at the ground floor foyer of Bold Tower, we’re once more two presentable business executives.
Inside the car Hudson reaches for my hand and shoots me a look brimming with playful reproof. ‘Just think, Dove—you could be coming by now if you weren’t such a goody-goody.’
I shudder, trying to calm my runaway heartbeat. Because the way he’s started holding my hand, the way he comforted me last night over Mum’s memorial, is all starting to feel as if we’re dating. My chest grows tight with confused longing. He offered solace even though he clearly felt out of his depth. I wanted to hold him right there in the busy street until we both chased off our anguish. But I held back. We’re not dating. It’s just sex.
I shake my head and grin with exasperation. The seduction game he started helps me stay grounded in reality. ‘Why is everything about winning with you?’
‘Because I’m good at it.’ His smile-and-wink combo is incorrigible. He seems younger. Happier. A woman could so easily fall for him. I wonder how many have over the years.
‘So you mean to tell me that you skipped school?’ It’s hard to imagine him ever having been blasé when it comes to his goals. The Hudson I know is driven to the point where he’s made professional success and money-making an art form. He’s famously quoted as saying, ‘You can’t ever make enough money.’ I’ve always assumed it’s his security blanket, because he’s not remotely flashy.
His confident grin falters a fraction. If I wasn’t so attuned to him, I might have missed it. ‘Of course. Unlike you, I had no one to grass me up. Surely I’ve told you about my misspent youth?’
The energy in the car buzzes like static. My pulse thuds, each beat more powerful. ‘No, you haven’t, but I’m listening.’
I’m risking the sexy, playful mood with my bout of curiosity, but there are two Hudson Blacks. The one I’ve known for five years, but don’t really know, and the one who is currently my lover. Beyond the fact that he’s funny and thoughtful and crazy-hot, this second version is something of an enigma.
I stay silent, waiting for any insight into the real Hudson, the one he protects with his competitive drive, tireless work ethic and famous commitment avoidance.
His sigh rings with defeat. He slips his hand from mine and spears it through his hair. ‘I went to a total of seven schools before I was sixteen.’ His eyes crinkle with a sad inevitable smile. ‘Some were worse than others. Some I actually liked.’
His irises turn almost black, haunted with vulnerability. I want to hold him but resist. This is the real reason he doesn’t date. He lived with the certainty that at any minute he’d be moved on. It’s no wonder he fears rejection. There’s no way he’d allow himself to grow attached to anyone after the abandonment of that first family. And that had spilled over into all of his relationships. Fear of failure is a hard taskmaster. After my divorce, I know.
‘Were you bullied?’ I want to comfort him. Instead I sit perfectly still, waiting for the pieces that complete the Hudson puzzle.
‘Not really, but I was always that kid—the loner, the outsider, the foster kid.’ He shrugs. ‘Some days it was easier to just skive off, even though I was smart enough to realise that an education was the only way to drag myself up from the reject pile.’
‘You were not in the reject pile.’ My throat burns for the boy he must have been. Alone. Scared. Feeling unloved. ‘Where would you go when you skipped school?’
He laughs then, his gorgeous mouth twisted into a wry smile. ‘The library. I saw enough kids in the system who coped in other ways—drugs, self-harm. I wanted something different, although I could so easily have taken that route.’
I ache for the young Hudson who felt safer physically and emotionally withdrawn. Who learned somehow to strive to control his environment.
I rest my head on his shoulder, inadequacy shredding me up inside. ‘I’m sorry you had that experience. I respect you even more now for what you’ve achieved.’
His smile is once more confident. ‘Money makes money. It gives you control. Once I saw that, I was hooked. I had some great opportunities early on with Foster McVeigh,’ he says, referring to the global investment bank he joined after university.
He presses his mouth to my forehead. ‘You have the real gift, Dove—people skills.’
‘Do I?’ I frown. ‘Some days the huge chunk of me missing after Mum’s death makes me feel defective.’ When she was alive, I felt invincible.
I lift my head from his shoulder and kiss him. The more he opens up, showing me glimpses of the things that have shaped him, the more I’m drawn to him. I can’t help myself.
‘Did you ever know your parents?’ The question hurts my throat, but I want to understand him better beyond his astute sense for high-risk, high-return investments. I want to be there for him the way he is for me.
His body stiffens, his jaw tense. ‘My father was never on the scene. I was two when my mother could no longer cope and handed me over to the state. I don’t resent her. In fact, I’m glad. She was an addict. She died of an overdose when I was six, apparently. At least I had a better life than the one she’d have provided.’
‘I’m sorry.’ It’s not enough. Not what I want to say. But I’m wary of crossing a line with him and invading his personal pain. He’d hate that.
‘You’re kind of killing the mood here, Dove.’ He grips my face and slides his mouth over mine, teasing my lips apart to the exploration of his tongue. I cling to his arms and surrender to his distraction technique, even though I want to blow off the festival and go somewhere quiet so we can talk and talk and talk...
I pull myself together with a deep inhale. Talking isn’t on the approved list of distractions. And that’s good. I can’t become swept along in Hudson’s heartache or misinterpret his rare emotional confidence.
He glances out of the window. ‘We’re here. Let’s go marvel at some cherry blossom.’
I smile, but inside I’m a mess of contradictions.
His driver, Takao, parks up in Nakameguro, a trendy residential area not far from the financial district. Hudson jumps out and strides round to my side to hold open my door.
‘Such a gentleman. You really want to win at all costs, don’t you?’ I aim for the playful vibe that seems to be our sweet spot, but it’s hard to keep things light and superficial.
He winks, taking my hand and dragging me towards the mingling crowds.
My heart is no longer in it. I crave connection with the man he’s showing me in minute glimpses. I long to understand the inner Hudson as well as I know his body. But I also know my tendency to see perfection, to rush in too soon and too eagerly. Next time I fall, I’ll do so slowly with my eyes wide open. Because I’ve lived through one major relationship failure. I can’t do it again.
As we walk in silence, I observe his profile, my mind racing.
I’ve been blessed with people who love me. Sometimes too many people, each of them with an opinion on how I should live my life. What sort of a person would I have been if I were totally alone, like Hudson? Would I have had his incredible strength of character, his conviction in his abilities and his unrelenting drive? It’s easy to have dreams and goals when you have security and acceptance in which to grow.
But what if that growth was against the tide? What if you were overcoming life’s obstacles alone and from a starting point of nothing? Avoiding the greatest risk of all—exposing his heart—is understandable.
The more I learn about Hudson, the more I question what I know and feel for him.
‘What?’ he asks, sensing my pensive mood.
I shake my head, forming my features into a neutral expression. ‘Nothing. I’m just wondering... Were you close...? With any of your families?’
I need to know he had someone who cared. Some sort of parental figures. I was close to my parents, my mother especially.
His eyes are the colour of cognac—dark with emotion he’s powerless to conceal. My chest aches. I can’t stop seeing a younger Hudson, abandoned and alone. Let down by the world and vulnerable. Was teenaged Hudson angry? Emotionally withdrawn in preparation for being moved on from his latest ‘home’? Did he have a girlfriend he’d been forced to leave behind? Friends?
With a small sigh of defeat, he throws his arm around my shoulders and guides me through the milling crowds. ‘I have fond memories of my first family, Wendy and Bill. I was with them from the age of two until ten.’ He speaks carefully, as if he’s trying to keep a lid on his emotions.
I swallow hard, fighting the sting behind my eyes. ‘I’m glad you had that but also sorry it didn’t last.’
He shakes his head. ‘Don’t be sorry. It was a long time ago.’ His sad smile all but tears out my heart.
I know the pain of losing a mother figure. It crushes me still, shaping my decisions, goals and dreams. I wouldn’t change a day of my own busy, noisy childhood. My annoying siblings could be my worst enemies one minute and my absolute heroes the next. I even had my parents to myself for a while, in particular my mother, given the age gap between me and my older brothers and sisters.
‘Besides, I’m not that hostile, scruffy little kid anymore.’ He flashes a playful grin. ‘I have everything I need and more. Look at me—I’m my own boss. If I want to take the afternoon off to be with a beautiful woman, there’s no one to stop me.’
I laugh, my head woolly. At first glance he does have it all, but I wonder if there are gaping holes in his life. With balance, would he smile and laugh more often, as I’ve witnessed him do these past few days? Would he push himself and Bold so hard for world domination if he had someone to go home to?
When he changes the subject, I let it go. My heart is heavy while he talks about the annual Cherry Blossom Festival, which happens for a few weeks in late March and early April, when every Sakura tree in the city blooms almost overnight. I want to be caught up in the buoyant atmosphere, the magic of Mother Nature, but understanding him is making me question parts of myself I’d thought were set in stone.
We walk beside the flowering-cherry-tree-lined canal. The laden boughs arch over the river and form a canopy of pale pink candyfloss. Petals, delicate pink snowflakes, fall on us like confetti. It’s magical and stunning, an oasis of natural beauty in the middle of an urban jungle, and I’m speechless at his thoughtfulness in bringing me here.
It’s only when I catch Hudson staring at me with an indulgent smile on his face that I realise I’ve been silent for a while—staring in wonder but also lost in my thoughts.
‘Thanks for this—it’s so pretty.’
His smile is wide.
I flush and bump shoulders with him. ‘You live here. You get to see it every year.’
He shrugs. ‘This is my first visit to the festival. I’m normally too busy to bother.’
He takes out his phone and tugs me under his arm, positioning us in a photo that’s backdropped by clouds of blossom and the shocking pink lanterns that hang from the trees.
I smile for the selfie, choked with a well of emotion. ‘Well, in that case, I’m glad we could see it together.’
I kiss him briefly, holding a part of myself back. I can’t push Hudson Black into the mould of my perfect man. I’m looking for real, not fairy-tale fantasy. What we’re doing this week has nothing to do with feelings. We’re just messing around for another fifty-one hours and nineteen minutes.
He picks a blossom petal from my hair. ‘Are you hungry? Let’s get some food.’
I want to be hungry. The narrow side-streets teem with cafés, bars and eateries, and rows of outdoor stalls sell festival-themed food. Hanami dango, the iconic pink, green and white sweet dumplings; exquisitely crafted sushi, which look too pretty to eat; and delicious karaage chicken. There are even stalls of frothy pink champagne in tall flutes, decorated with strawberries.
I purchase two glasses of the champagne from a nearby stall. ‘To skiving off. I wish I’d tried it years ago.’
Hudson grins and clinks his plastic flute to mine. ‘I’ll make a rebel out of you yet. Come on. I have a surprise.’ He leads me to a spot near the river where people are seated under the trees on picnic rugs.
‘I arranged a picnic,’ he says, collecting a basket and blanket from a woman dressed in a beautiful silk kimono decorated with a blossom pattern.
‘Arigatō gozaimashita.’ Hudson thanks her and we find a spot to spread out the rug at the water’s edge.
‘I don’t know what to say...’ My voice wobbles. ‘This is so perfect. Thank you. Are you trying to win the “most romantic gesture” award as well as the “sexy seduction” trophy...?’
I take a seat, my heart fluttering. I could so easily be swept along. I was brought up to believe I could have it all without compromise. My mum and my two older sisters juggled family and a career as well as finding deep romantic love. I won’t be short-changed from my birthright just because it didn’t work out with Sterling, and I won’t make the same mistake twice. I learned a lot from my brief marriage, mainly about myself. Next time I fall, I’ll take my time and make sure it’s right for me.
‘No.’ His stare flares with heat but he laughs good-naturedly. ‘It’s a Japanese tradition. They call it hanami, which means “flower viewing.” It’s a spring celebration that dates back centuries.’
I look around. Yes, there are tourists here, but it’s obvious this festival is a big part of Japanese culture.
Hudson pops the cork on a chilled bottle of pink champagne and tops up our glasses while I enthusiastically unpack the delicious-looking food and try not to overinterpret what this means. Long term, I want more than great sexual chemistry with a wonderful man. I want a lover who shares my dreams and aspirations, not just my professional ambitions. I want my own large family—boisterous birthday parties and Christmases and any other excuse to get together.
My family isn’t perfect, but Mum and Dad taught us the importance of staying together. We turn to each other when times are tough and celebrate each other’s successes. I want to continue the family traditions and make my own in the future. To keep Mum alive in any way I can.
‘This trip is going to be disastrous for my waistline,’ I say, desperately trying to return to our easy vibe.
‘I’m happy to provide hourly workouts if required,’ he responds with an inviting gleam in his eye.
‘Now, there’s a training regime I could get with.’ I celebrate the return of our banter, marvelling at the canopy of blossom overhead.
‘Mum would have loved this,’ I tell him with a sigh. ‘When I was at uni, before I met Sterling, we travelled together every opportunity we had—mainly around Europe. I was single, Dad was still working, and my brothers and sisters were busy with their lives and their children, so girls’ weekends became our thing. She never voiced regrets about having a big family and starting young, but she encouraged all of us to spread our wings and fly.’
‘Perhaps she saw herself in you.’ He strokes the back of my hand. ‘She’d be proud of you, you know.’
‘I hope so. I think she died content that all of her grown-up children were happy and settled.’
‘She’d understand. About the divorce. You’re not the only couple in the world to grow apart. And at least you gave it a shot.’
‘I know. I just wish I could tell her that I’m still okay. That I haven’t given up on my dreams just because my life took a fork in the road.’ Losing Mum six months into the marriage had amplified my feelings of failure over the divorce. I missed her hugs and advice and her ability to listen when I needed it most.
‘She knows. You do everything with passion and enthusiasm, Dove. Your personal life won’t be any different.’
I gape, slightly taken aback that he sees me so well. That he’s bothered to notice.
‘I so desperately wanted the marriage to work, and so did Sterling. It seemed the harder we tried, the further apart we grew.’ I run my fingers through the petals littering the grass, ashamed of how I misjudged the relationship so badly, and sad that I hurt a wonderful man. ‘I was just too focussed on the end point to appreciate the journey, I guess.’
We need to get away from all this personal stuff.
‘What about your personal life?’ I ask with a wink. ‘Do you have a date for the Business Awards dinner tomorrow? Because I’m not playing gooseberry! If we’re taking dates, you’ll have to find me some dishy businessman friend. Or should I invite Ben Haslam...?’
His eyes become flinty with determination. ‘I’m taking you. No need for any businessman besides this one, especially not Haslam.’
I press my lips together, concealing my smile of delight. ‘You don’t like Ben?’
‘I like you, Dove. You need a date while you’re here—you have one.’ He stabs his thumb at the centre of his chest. The heat I’ve grown used to around him consumes me, sliding over my skin like liquid arousal.
‘Okay, then. If you’re going to be all needy about it, I’ll tag along with you.’ I hide my full-body shudder of pleasure and heap my plate with delicious delicacies from the picnic to stop myself from barrelling him to the grass in front of all the families.
I look up when I notice he’s grown still. He’s frowning, his expression hesitant. I’ve never seen him wear that look before.
‘Would you like to...tag along with me this afternoon...to my place?’
I swallow, my heart banging at my breastbone. On the surface his invitation reflects our pretty constant need to get each other naked. But scratch the surface and it’s monumental.
My previous trips to Tokyo with Sterling were business-heavy. We managed to squeeze in one or two tourist things, but we’ve never been invited to Hudson’s home. He’s a lavish and generous host, always, but he protects his inner sanctum like he protects his vulnerabilities.
Rampant curiosity and longing sweeps through me. I tell myself I can’t get carried away by our deepening connection. I only hope I can control the urge.
‘I’d love to come to your place.’