The man from earlier that morning, the one in the backseat of the car that almost hit her. He was walking with a calm, confident stride, surrounded by assistants, a phone in one hand, giving short commands in a deep, cool voice.
Tall, with broad shoulders that filled out his charcoal gray tailored suit perfectly, he carried himself like someone who owned the entire building, because he probably did. His jawline was sharp, his features symmetrical and arresting. His raven-black hair was slicked back smoothly, and his piercing, ice-gray eyes briefly scanned the room… until they locked with hers.
Their eyes locked for a split second, the tension unmistakable, but neither of them said a word. Ava's heart skipped, not just from the shock of recognizing him, but from the way his intense, unreadable gaze lingered on her before slowly shifting away.
He stopped abruptly, turning to one of the suited employees seated at a nearby desk.
"Who is she?" he asked coolly, nodding subtly in Ava's direction.
The man checked the list in front of him and replied, "She's here for an interview, sir.."
Damien Blackwood's eyes returned to hers, sharper now.
"You," he said, pointing. "Are you Ava Morgan?"
"Yes," she replied, sitting straighter.
"See me in my office."
Without waiting for a response, he turned and continued walking down the hall.
The man at the desk stood quickly and gestured for her to follow. "Miss Morgan, this way, please. I'll take you to Mr. Blackwood's office."
Ava stood on shaky legs, her mind racing as she followed behind. She had no idea what awaited her behind that office door, but something told her this interview was going to be anything but ordinary.
Ava followed the man silently through the elegant hallway, each step making her heart beat faster. The entire floor screamed wealth, glass walls, polished marble, modern art pieces hanging under soft lighting. She barely had time to take it all in before they stopped at a tall black double-door office.
"This is Mr. Blackwood's office," the man said, giving her a small nod before stepping away.
Ava inhaled deeply, steadied herself, and stepped inside. The office was spacious and sleek, lined with shelves of books, floor-to-ceiling windows, and minimalist furniture. She sat in one of the chairs facing the large desk, her fingers twitching nervously on her lap.
Moments later, the door behind her clicked open. Damien Blackwood entered, holding a sleek cup of coffee. His presence filled the room instantly. Dressed in a tailored charcoal suit, every move he made was calm, precise, dangerously confident.
He didn't say a word at first. He simply walked around the desk, sat down across from her, and took a slow sip of coffee.
"Your CV," he finally said, holding out a hand.
Ava quickly passed it over. He skimmed through it, his face unreadable, then lifted his eyes and fixed her with a stare.
"Why do you think you're qualified to be my secretary, Miss Morgan?"
Ava didn't flinch. "I have experience in administrative roles, excellent organizational skills, and I'm quick to adapt. I'm reliable, professional, and I don't crack under pressure. I believe those qualities are essential for someone assisting a CEO of your caliber."
He didn't respond immediately, just continued watching her as if trying to peel her apart layer by layer. A faint smirk touched his lips,not of amusement, but approval.
"You're smart," he said simply, setting her CV down.
The silence that followed was heavy, electric.
She had passed the first test. But the interview was far from over.
Damien leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled beneath his chin as his gaze lingered on her with calculated interest.
"You're well-spoken. Confident. Composed. You'll do well in a professional setting," he said smoothly. "You're fit for the job."
Relief flickered in Ava's chest, but it was quickly extinguished when his next words followed.
"How old are you, Miss Morgan?"
"Twenty-four," she replied, cautiously.
He gave a short nod, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied her. "You seem… desperate."
Her brows lifted slightly. "I'm"
He cut in, sharp and direct. "I'm not judging. Desperation can be useful. It means you'll be committed. But it also means I need to know how far you're willing to go."
Ava stiffened, her heart thudding. "I'm not sure I understand."
He stood and walked slowly to the window, gazing out at the city skyline for a moment before turning back to her.
"I'll hire you," he said. "But not just as my secretary."
She blinked. "Then…?"
"There's another position I need filled," he said, returning to his desk. "More personal. More complicated."
Her confusion deepened. "What kind of position?"
Damien's words hung in the air like a challenge, his icy stare unrelenting.
"Be my fiancée. For four months."
Ava blinked, sure she had misheard. "Your… what?"
He didn't flinch. "Fake, of course. It's a business arrangement."
She let out a nervous laugh, trying to grasp the gravity of what he'd just proposed. "Why would you need a fake fiancée?"
Damien rose from his seat again, this time walking over to a sleek cabinet and pouring himself a glass of water. His tone was composed, clipped. "To save a billion-dollar merger that's teetering on the edge because of a scandal. My rival, Victor Gates, is engaged to my ex, Elena. Together, they're stirring up whispers about my personal life being too unstable for a long-term partnership."
Ava listened in silence as he continued. "The investors care about image. Family. Stability. Marriage. I need to show them I'm grounded. Settled. Taken."
Her brows furrowed. "So… you want me to pretend to be your loving partner? Just like that?"
"You already applied to work for me," Damien said, turning to face her fully. "As a secretary. I saw your résumé and pulled your file. I didn't care about your design experience. I was looking for someone discreet. Unattached. Desperate enough to accept terms others would question."
She was still reeling. "But why me? Out of all people?"
His answer was immediate, cold and honest.
"Because you're nobody," he said. "And you won't get attached."
He set a sleek folder in front of her. "You'll be well compensated, Miss Morgan. More than any secretary job would pay. Consider this… a business proposal."
She stared at the folder, her fingers twitching.
And for the first time since walking into that building, she didn't know whether to walk out… or lean in.
Ava's eyes dropped to the sleek folder in front of her, but her mind was miles away.
Chloe.
She saw her sister's pale face, heard the soft beeping of the oxygen monitor, remembered the nights she'd stayed awake listening to her shallow breaths. The surgery was scheduled in less than two months. Without it… Ava didn't even want to think about that.
Then there was the rent. The threatening letters from the bank. The calls she'd been avoiding. The credit cards that had long hit their limits. Tory's paycheck, unpaid. Yet the nurse still showed up every day, treating Chloe with kindness Ava could never repay.
Her throat tightened as the reality pressed in. No one was coming to save them.
This offer, insane as it sounded, might be the only lifeline she had left.
She glanced up at Damien, who was now seated, calm, collected, and utterly unreadable. Like a man who knew he held all the power.
And he did.