Madly Yours (Nora Reed) novel Chapter 147

Refusing to waste another second, Nora rushed straight to the nearest dive bar.

"Boss, give me a bottle of your strongest liquor."

The owner, a middle-aged man in his forties, eyed her up and down. "Just you, sweetheart?"

"Yes. The strongest bottle you have. I'll take it."

Hesitating for a moment, the owner reached under the counter and pulled out a bottle of clear alcohol, thunking it onto the bar.

The label read:

130-Proof...

...

Meanwhile, on the top floor of the Lancaster Group headquarters, the atmosphere inside the executive boardroom was thick with suffocating tension.

Hudson sat at the head of the table, idly spinning a silver pen between his long, elegant fingers. The movement was slow and methodical.

Yet, not a single executive in the room dared to breathe.

The projector displayed the first-quarter financial reports, a dense sea of red and green numbers.

The Vice President giving the presentation had reached the crucial revenue forecast for the second quarter, but his voice was steadily dropping in volume, until he was practically whispering.

It wasn't that he wanted to ruin his own presentation.

It was because the aura radiating from the man at the head of the table was absolutely terrifying.

It was so suffocating that everyone in the room felt their own heartbeats were too loud, wishing they could shrink into non-existence to avoid his gaze.

Hudson leaned back in his leather chair, legs crossed, his face devoid of any expression. He looked entirely calm.

But it was exactly that dead-eyed calm that had cold sweat pouring down everyone's backs.

The boss was in a terrible mood today.

An exceptionally terrible mood.

It was the unspoken consensus among everyone present. Even though no one knew what had triggered it, they could all feel the crushing pressure of a storm about to break.

The Vice President gritted his teeth and pushed through the slide, a fine layer of sweat coating his forehead as the laser pointer in his hand trembled violently.

"...In conclusion, we project an 8 to 10 percent revenue growth for the upcoming quarter, with the primary drivers being—"

The boardroom was so dead quiet they could hear the faint hum of the air conditioning vents.

Hudson picked up the phone, swiped to answer, and brought it to his ear.

"Hello?"

Instead of words, he was met with a chaotic scramble of static and mumbled noise. It sounded like someone drunkenly arguing with the air, speaking rapidly but completely incoherently.

Hudson's brow furrowed.

The line went quiet for a second before a soft, painfully sweet voice drifted through, slurred with undeniable intoxication.

"Mmm... Hudson?"

Hudson's grip on the phone tightened.

He instantly knew something was wrong with her voice.

"Where are you?"

The line went quiet again, followed by the rustling of fabric, like she was digging through her purse or pockets. A moment later, the slurred voice returned.