Elaine's new supervisor, Lila Benton, walked fast, a bit too fast. Elaine half-jogged behind her through a maze of glass partitions and sleek workstations as she struggled to keep up with the petite woman whose heels added a few generous inches to her frame. How had she learned to walk like that?
Lila was all sharp edges and sharper heels, the kind of woman who could command a boardroom with her presence alone.
"You'll be assisting several departments," Lila explained briskly, "but Mr. Grosvenor takes special interest in all new interns."
Elaine snorted before she could stop herself. "I got that impression." Lila paused mid-stride and turned.
"Have you…met him?"
"I'm afraid so," she muttered, before catching herself. "In the elevator, actually."
Lila blinked as if she'd just confessed to having afternoon tea with a thunderstorm. "And you're alive. My goodness."
Elaine fought a grin. "Barely."
The two resumed walking.
"Just…be careful around him," Lila murmured. "He's brilliant, yes. But he's also—"
"A glacier masquerading as a CEO?"
Lila choked on a laugh. "You could say that, yes."
They reached a desk near the corner office—his office. All dark glass and frosted privacy. Subzero aura. A cool shiver ghosted up her spine, almost as if cool hands had grazed her back. Elaine could feel the weight of Blake's presence even with the door closed.
"This will be your workspace," Lila said. "You'll mostly be helping with research, compiling reports, and—"
The office door opened. Blake stepped out, and for a second—just a second—Elaine swore his expression shifted when he saw her. The chill in his eyes wavered, replaced by something warm, almost unsettling. He hid it instantly.
"Ms. Wright," he said, voice low and velvety. "Settling in?"
"Trying to," she replied, matching his cool with her fire.
Lila shot her a "please don't antagonize the billionaire" look.
Blake gestured for a folder from his assistant, flipping it open without breaking eye contact with Elaine.
"I reviewed your résumé," he said. "Top of your class. Several commendations," his voice trailed, then he paused. "And a reputation for…outspokenness." He had dragged the last word out slightly.
Elaine lifted her chin. "I like to call it honesty."
A hint of a smile coasted across his lips. "So do I."
Lila gaped at them both like she'd stumbled into a meeting between a lit fuse and a gas leak. Elaine probably would have found their exchanges comical if she were a passerby.
Shifting in his leather seat, Blake closed the folder. "I expect excellence from my interns," he said. "But in your case…" His gaze dropped to her mouth, an act that unnerved her, before snapping back up. "I expect more." Elaine felt her pulse trip—then stabilize.
"I can assure you I don't do mediocre," she said sweetly.
For the first time since she'd met him, Blake's mask cracked completely, providing her a glimpse of both heat and hunger. She felt a jolt between her legs.
"Good," he murmured. "You start by reviewing a proposal in Conference Room 4." He stepped back into his office but paused at the door frame. "And Ms. Wright…?"
"Yes?"
His eyes raked her, slowly, intently.
"...Try not to get into trouble."
Elaine smiled sweetly. "I can't give you any promises."
Behind her, Lila exhaled like she'd been holding her breath since dawn. "Oh God," she said under her breath. "He likes you."
Elaine stared after him, feeling the shift like a gravitational pull.
"Yeah?" she murmured. "I tend to have that effect on people."
-
When Elaine arrived at Conference Room Four, just as she had been requested to, she was expecting anything but the scene that met her.
Contrary to the chaos she'd anticipated, papers everywhere, half-eaten pastries, at least one stressed-out analyst clutching an energy drink like a lifeline, what met her was silence.
Conference Room Four was polished, bright, and empty except for a sleek stack of proposal documents waiting at the center of the table. Even the city outside the glass walls seemed exceptionally quiet.
Elaine set her bag down and opened the first folder.
Then she caught sight of the handwritten note clipped inside:
Wright —Rewrite the projections.Be bold.— B.G.
She stared at the handwriting.
Be bold? From the same man who seemed allergic to emotional expression?
She huffed a laugh. "You're a puzzle, Blake Grosvenor," she said, cracking her fingers and getting to work.
Numbers were Elaine's comfort food. She sank into the data, tearing apart assumptions, rebuilding models, and adding insights she knew most interns would be too cautious to suggest. She rewrote the entire proposal outline, redrafted charts, and highlighted risk sectors others had glossed over.
An hour passed in a blur.
She didn't notice the door open. But she felt him, felt the shift in the air. The faintest scent of something sharp—expensive cologne and cold steel — tickled her nostrils. She froze, pen mid-stroke, as Blake's reflection appeared in the glass panel.
He stood behind her, arms crossed, gaze lowered to the documents she'd spread across the table.
He didn't speak. And somehow, that made it worse.
Elaine turned slowly. "Can I help you?"
His eyes lifted to hers. Intense. Unreadable. Too direct. Too aware. She felt the same heat she'd felt earlier spark her lady bits to life.
"You've been here an hour," he said, running his thumb and index finger across his chin. "Most interns spend three."
She arched a brow. "Are you accusing me of being efficient?"
"Of being fast." A pause. "But the real question is whether you're accurate."
Elaine pushed the folder toward him. "Then check the work."
His expression tightened—surprise, irritation, interest—something in that mix.
He moved closer, the sharp lines of his suit brushing against her shirt. Her nipples perked. He leaned over the table, flipping through her edits with a slow, deliberate precision.
She tried not to push down the subtle heat in his presence, but failed miserably.
After what felt like an eternity, Blake set the papers down, his expression a mix of curiosity and surprise.
"You challenged two of the financial assumptions."
"Because they were wrong," she said calmly.
"You also proposed a restructure of the international division."
"Yes, because it's inefficient."
"And you flagged three potential legal risks."
"They're risks," came her retort.
Blake exhaled through his nose. "You don't know how to stay in your lane, do you?" he asked.
Elaine smiled. "Not when the lane is headed in the wrong direction."
Their eyes locked.
Something electric sparked between them—dangerous, warm, unexpected.
He was the first to break whatever their shared moment had been. Of course he was. Men and their constant need to be in control was laughable to say the least.
"Follow me."
He turned and left the room without giving her a second glance.
She wasn't used to being commanded this way, but she followed anyway.