Natasha adjusted the strap of her bag as she stood before the towering glass building. Blackwood Enterprises loomed like an untouchable fortress, each panel of glass reflecting the harsh morning sun. The revolving doors spun with a constant stream of sharp-suited employees, all moving with a speed and precision that made her pulse quicken.
Her stomach knotted. She had cooked for Michelin-starred critics, survived the chaos of restaurant kitchens, and stared down drunken customers without flinching—yet this was different. This was Edward Blackwood's world. A world that had teeth.
Stepping inside, Natasha was immediately greeted by the crisp scent of expensive cologne and the faint hum of business conversations. The marble floor gleamed so brightly she could almost see her reflection. At the center of the grand lobby stood a reception desk manned by a woman with immaculate makeup and a blazer that looked like it had been tailored to perfection.
"Name?" the receptionist asked, her tone polite but sharp.
"Natasha Williams," Natasha replied, forcing her voice to sound steady.
The woman's eyes flickered in recognition. "Mr. Blackwood is expecting you. Take the executive elevator to the thirty-eighth floor."
Natasha murmured a thank you and made her way toward the private elevator tucked into a quieter corner. She felt the weight of curious stares following her—some discreet, some not. She knew what they were thinking. She wasn't dressed like an executive; her tailored white blouse and navy skirt were modest but lacked the designer labels that screamed wealth.
When the elevator doors slid open on the thirty-eighth floor, she stepped into another world. The air was cooler here, the lighting softer but no less commanding. Glass walls revealed a panorama of the city below, and every office she passed looked like it belonged in a high-end magazine spread.
She didn't get far before a voice called out.
"You must be the new… consultant." The word dripped with skepticism.
Natasha turned to see a tall man in his early forties, his salt-and-pepper hair slicked back with precision. He wore an expression that hovered between boredom and disdain.
"And you are?" she asked, matching his coolness.
"Daniel Hayes. Head of Operations." He gave her a once-over, his gaze lingering just long enough to make his meaning clear. "I hope you're not here thinking charm will get you far. Mr. Blackwood doesn't keep people around for long if they can't deliver."
Before Natasha could reply, another voice cut through the tension.
"Hayes."
Edward Blackwood emerged from his office like a storm contained in human form—precise, controlled, but impossible to ignore. His dark eyes swept over Natasha, then flicked to Hayes.
"She's with me." His tone brooked no argument.
Hayes stiffened, muttered something under his breath, and walked away.
"Follow me," Edward said, already turning toward his office.
Natasha entered a space that could have doubled as a penthouse suite—sleek black furniture, floor-to-ceiling windows, and a desk so large it could host a dinner party. Yet despite the luxury, everything felt sharp, functional, and purposeful, much like the man himself.
Edward gestured to a seat opposite his desk. "You start today."
Her brows rose. "I thought I was here for a briefing."
"This is the briefing," he replied smoothly, sliding a thin file toward her. "Our main supplier is trying to renegotiate terms. I want you to sit in on the meeting and observe."
Natasha glanced at the file. It was dense with figures, contracts, and legal jargon she only half understood. "Observe and…?"
"Tell me afterward what they're hiding."
She blinked. "And you think I can do that because…?"
Edward leaned back in his chair, a faint smirk touching his lips. "Because you read people, Natasha. You catch details others miss. That's why you're here."
The meeting was a tense affair. The supplier's representatives smiled too much, avoided direct answers, and occasionally glanced at one another with fleeting unease. Natasha kept silent, letting Edward do the talking, but her mind was busy connecting dots—small changes in tone, shifts in posture, and the subtle tightening of jaws when certain clauses were mentioned.
When it was over, Edward dismissed the others and turned to her. "Well?"
"They're bluffing," Natasha said without hesitation. "They're under pressure from another client and need us more than we need them. The overeager smiles? That's desperation."
For the first time, Edward's eyes softened—just a fraction. "Not bad."
A knock on the door interrupted them. Daniel Hayes stepped in, holding a folder. "The quarterly projections you requested, sir." His gaze flicked to Natasha again, but this time there was something new—wariness.
Edward dismissed him quickly, then turned back to Natasha. "You'll stay on this project. Full access to the negotiation files."
She frowned. "That wasn't part of the deal."
"Consider it an opportunity." His voice lowered, each word deliberate. "The people who destroyed you—they play the same games as these suppliers. Learn the rules, and you'll win."
Natasha's pulse quickened. She didn't want to admit it, but he was right. This was a battlefield, just like the one she would have to face when the time came to strike back.
As she rose to leave, Edward's voice followed her. "One more thing, Natasha. In this building, appearances matter. Next time, wear something that tells them you belong here."
She turned, meeting his gaze squarely. "Or I could just make them regret underestimating me."
A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "That works too."
Outside his office, the hallway felt colder. She could feel the eyes on her again—some curious, some calculating. But Natasha no longer felt like prey.
She was learning the terrain.
And soon, she would own it.