Elaine Wright had always imagined her first day at any company would feel ordinary—awkward small talk, over-eager smiles, and a sea of cubicles humming with fluorescent lighting.
What she had not imagined, however, were overpolished marble floors, a skyline slicing through floor-to-ceiling windows, or the intense feeling that she'd just stepped into the private kingdom of a man who ruled it like a cold-blooded emperor.
She tugged her blazer straight and inhaled deeply.
"Grosvenor Global," she whispered to herself, trying to avert any negative thoughts. "No big deal."
But even she couldn't convince herself of that.
The elevator chimed, its doors sliding open with a soft draft. Inside stood a lone occupant —tall, sharply cut in charcoal grey, with a posture perfect enough to shame a statue. His gaze had been locked on his phone, but his eyes, striking, icy, and so blue it felt like a blade pressed beneath her chin, lifted at the sound of her heels clicking against the marble. Elaine blinked. He mirrored her. Slowly. Deliberately.
"Going up?" he asked, his voice low and smooth, as if he rarely needed to speak louder than a murmur to command a room.
"Unless you're going down," Elaine shot back, stepping inside despite the flutter in her stomach. "I'd rather not be late on my first day."
His brow arched. Not high—just enough to reveal he wasn't used to people speaking to him like that, especially not with such confidence.
"First day," he repeated, as though testing how the words in his mouth.
"Yes," she said, lifting her chin. "Elaine Wright. Intern."
Something flickered behind his cool exterior. Interest? Spark? A heat quickly buried under a practiced frost.
He extended one hand toward the elevator panel and pressed the top button.
"Then welcome to the top floor, Ms. Wright." There was an air of sarcasm in his tone as he said those words.
She straightened. Something about the way he said her name made her feel…studied. Examined. As if he were mapping the shape of her with his eyes alone.
A faint smirk formed on her lips. Two could play this game.
"Thank you," she replied. "And you are…?"
He returned her smirk, not bothering to be discreet.
"Blake."
She waited. After a second, he indulged her.
"Blake Grosvenor."
Her pulse stumbled.
Grovenor. As in the Grosvenor. The billionaire heir whose company she was now employed by. Her boss's boss's boss. The man splashed across financial magazines with headlines like The Grosvenor Empire's Cold Prince or The Impenetrable Wall of Grosvenor. And she'd just challenged him in an elevator. She swallowed, but decided to maintain her demeanor. She wasn't one to falter when she felt embarrassed. She would stand tall.
"I see," she managed, ignoring the flush creeping up her neck, "nice to meet you."
He didn't respond at first. Instead, he watched her—unblinking, unnervingly focused—as though searching for the reason she had just spoken to him with boldness instead of reverence.
Finally, he murmured, a bit of humour in his response, "Likewise."
The elevator rose, each passing floor adding another layer of charged silence.
Elaine shifted her weight. Her heels were already killing her, and she had barely begun her day. His gaze followed the movement—subtle, but not subtle enough — slowly dragging over her frame. Was he checking her out? If he was, he was surprisingly terrible at hiding it.
She cleared her throat. He didn't look away.
"So," she said, folding her arms, "is staring a standard practice for executives around here? Or is that just your personal style?"
The corner of his mouth tugged, betraying him.
"Just admiring your confidence," Blake said coolly. "Most interns avoid eye contact with their overheads their first week."
She shrugged, then straightened. "Good to know I'm not most interns."
"I noticed."
The elevator doors slid open.
He stepped out first, but paused, glancing over his shoulder as though expecting her to follow him. She did—and instantly felt the temperature rise half a degree when he let his gaze drop, for one suspended heartbeat, to her lips. He recovered instantly, returning to his marble-cold composure.
"Good luck today, Ms. Wright."
"Luck's overrated," she muttered.
His lips curved again—the kind of smirk that suggested she had, against all odds, surprised him.
"In that case," he said softly, "I look forward to seeing what you do without it."
Then he disappeared behind a glass office door, leaving Elaine standing in the hallway, pulse racing, mind spinning, and slightly embarrassed about how she had presented herself to the CEO of the company she would be spending most of her working hours.
She had expected a challenging internship. She had not expected…whatever that was.
And somewhere behind that glass door sat a man who had clearly built an empire on control, power, and cool emotional distance. Yet she had seen it—the microscopic crack in his armor when he'd locked eyes with her. Blake Grosvenor was intrigued. Dangerously so.
Elaine smiled to herself, excitement curling low in her stomach. If this was how the first five minutes of her first day had gone, then this internship was going to be a piece of cake, or at the very least, she hoped so.