The following morning, Elena walked into the sleek lobby of Blackwood Enterprises with her head held high. Glass walls reflected the early sunlight, and every corner of the building screamed wealth and power. Employees in sharp suits moved quickly, their faces tense, as though even a second of laziness would cost them their jobs.
Elena smoothed her blazer, forcing herself to ignore the nerves crawling under her skin. She had been reassigned last night, after that humiliating encounter at the gala. Her boss's words still rang in her ears: "Adrian Blackwood specifically requested you for his department."
Requested, or trapped?
She pressed the elevator button, her jaw tight. This wasn't a coincidence. He wanted her here, and she needed to find out why.
The doors slid open, and when she stepped into his floor, the energy shifted. It was quieter here—sharp, controlled, almost suffocating. Assistants sat behind glass desks, their eyes flicking up as she passed, whispering among themselves. She didn't miss the way they stared, curious and judgmental.
Finally, she stopped at a pair of tall glass doors. His office.
Before she could knock, a deep voice called from inside. "Enter."
She stepped in, her heels clicking against the polished floor.
Adrian sat behind an obsidian desk, his suit flawless, his expression unreadable. Sunlight poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows behind him, outlining his figure in a way that made him look even more untouchable.
"Elena Carter," he said, not looking up from the papers in his hand. "On time. Impressive. Let's see if it lasts."
Her lips pressed into a thin line. "I was told I'd be assisting your PR division."
"Correct," he replied, finally lifting his gaze. His eyes pinned her in place again, cold but calculating. "But you'll be reporting directly to me."
That wasn't standard. Not even close.
She narrowed her eyes. "Why me?"
Adrian leaned back in his chair, the corner of his mouth twitching as though he enjoyed her defiance. "Because you're Carter's daughter. And I don't trust you."
The words hit like a slap, but Elena refused to let him see it. "If you don't trust me, why hire me at all?"
"Simple," Adrian said smoothly. "Keep your enemies close."
Her nails dug into her palm, but she refused to look away. "I'm not your enemy."
"Not yet," he said, his gaze sharp as a blade. "But I'll decide when you are."
Silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating. Then Adrian pushed a file across the desk.
"Your first assignment," he said. "A press campaign for our new merger. The proposal is due tonight."
Elena blinked. "Tonight? That's impossible. I haven't even—"
"Excuses bore me," Adrian cut her off. "If you're as capable as you claim, you'll find a way."
Her fists clenched at her sides. He wasn't giving her a challenge; he was setting her up to fail.
"Fine," she said through gritted teeth, snatching the file. "But when I deliver, I expect you to actually read it instead of dismissing me for my last name."
Adrian's lips curved into something dark, almost mocking. "Careful, Miss Carter. Pride is dangerous in my world."
She spun on her heel, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reply.
The day blurred into hours of work. Elena buried herself in research, drafting press angles and campaign slogans, her pen flying across the page. Every time she grew tired, she pictured Adrian's smug face, and her determination sharpened.
By evening, she walked back into his office with a completed proposal.
Adrian looked up from his laptop, surprised to see her so soon. "Already?"
She dropped the file on his desk. "Read it."
He raised a brow but obliged, flipping through the pages. His eyes scanned the words quickly, his expression unreadable. The silence stretched, and Elena's pulse hammered in her throat.
Finally, he set the file down. "Not bad."
It wasn't praise. It was the bare minimum, and yet there was something in his tone—reluctant respect.
"Not bad?" Elena crossed her arms. "That's all you have to say?"
He looked at her, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "You're expecting applause? A pat on the back?"
"I'm expecting acknowledgment for good work," she shot back.
Adrian stood, moving around the desk until he was dangerously close. His height forced her to tilt her chin up, but she didn't back down.
"You want acknowledgment?" he said, his voice low. "Then earn it. One decent proposal doesn't erase your name—or what your family owes me."
Elena's chest tightened. There it was again—that bitterness in his tone whenever her family came up.
She steadied her voice. "I'm not my father. Don't punish me for his mistakes."
For a moment, something flickered in his eyes. Pain? Anger? She couldn't tell. But then the mask was back, cold and unyielding.
"Go home, Miss Carter," he said. "Rest. Tomorrow will be worse."
Her lips parted to retort, but he had already turned away, dismissing her again.
Heat rushed through her veins—anger, frustration, something else she refused to name. She stormed out of his office, her heels striking the marble floor like gunfire.
But as she reached the elevator, his voice echoed in her head.
"Keep your enemies close."
For the first time, Elena realized something terrifying.
This wasn't just a job. This was a war.