Chapter 2
The room didn't breathe.
Neither did I.
Every pair of eyes slid from him to me, curiosity sharpening into interest, the kind that tasted blood. The air felt colder up here, thinner, like it belonged to people who'd never worried about rent or overdue bills or whether their pride would survive another hit.
I stood there, frozen, my bag strap digging into my shoulder.
Say something, Elara.
Anything.
"Good morning," I managed. My voice sounded steadier than I felt, which was a small miracle. "I—there must be some mistake."
His smile didn't move his eyes.
"There isn't."
He took his seat again, slow and deliberate, fingers steepled as if this entire moment had been arranged for his entertainment. A man beside him cleared his throat awkwardly.
"Sir," the man said, glancing at me, then back at him. "Should we—"
"We're done here," Adrian Blackwood said.
The name landed like a gunshot.
Blackwood.
My stomach dropped so fast I thought I might actually pass out.
Chairs scraped. Papers shuffled. The executives stood quickly, murmuring goodbyes, eyes flicking at me with poorly hidden curiosity. One woman gave me a look that was half pity, half envy. I didn't know which was worse.
Within seconds, the room emptied.
Except for us.
The door shut softly behind the last person, sealing me in with him.
Adrian leaned back in his chair. The city stretched behind him in glass and steel, sunlight catching in his dark hair. In daylight, he looked even more dangerous. Sharper. Realer.
"You look surprised," he said mildly.
"I am," I replied. "Because last night you were just… some guy in a club."
"Some guy," he repeated, amused.
"I didn't know you were—" I gestured helplessly. "This."
"Powerful?" His brow lifted. "Rich? In control of your continued employment?"
My jaw tightened. "You don't get to threaten me."
"I didn't threaten you," he said calmly. "I stated a fact."
I hated how steady he was. How unbothered. As if I were a minor inconvenience instead of a human being whose world had just tilted off its axis.
I straightened my shoulders. "If this is about the wine—"
"It's not," he cut in.
That surprised me.
"Then what is it about?" I asked.
He studied me for a long moment, gaze flicking over my face with unnerving intensity, like he was cataloguing me. Measuring. Calculating.
"Sit down, Ms Monroe."
"I'd rather stand."
A beat passed.
"Suit yourself."
I stayed where I was, heart thudding too loudly in my ears.
"You applied for this position three months ago," he said, tapping something on his tablet. "Graduated top of your class. Excellent references. No criminal record. No social media presence worth mentioning."
"That sounds… invasive."
"Due diligence," he replied smoothly. "I don't hire liabilities."
I clenched my fists. "Then why am I here?"
His gaze lifted back to my face.
"Because you don't scare easily."
I laughed despite myself. "You think last night proved that?"
"I know it did," he said. "Most people apologise and disappear. You stood your ground."
"I was humiliated."
"And yet," he said softly, "you didn't beg."
Something about the way he said it sent a shiver down my spine.
"That doesn't mean I want to work for you," I said quickly. "If there's a conflict of interest, I'll walk away. No hard feelings."
It was a lie.
I needed this job. Needed it badly.
But I wouldn't let him see that.
Adrian's lips curved slightly. "You won't walk away."
"Watch me."
"I could", he continued, unhurried, "have security escort you out right now. I could blacklist you from every major firm in the city with a single phone call."
My chest tightened. "You'd do that because I spilt wine on you?"
"No," he said. "I'd do it because you challenged me."
The words settled between us, heavy and dangerous.
"But I won't," he added.
"Why?"
"Because I'm curious."
That was worse.
"I'm not a science experiment," I snapped.
"No," he agreed. "You're a variable."
I swallowed.
"Here are my rules," he said, standing abruptly. He moved closer, each step controlled, until he stopped an arm's length away. Too close. I could see the faint scar near his eyebrow again. The tension beneath his calm.
"You arrive 10 minutes early," he continued. "You leave when I dismiss you. You do exactly what I ask, exactly when I ask it."
"And if I don't?"
His gaze dropped briefly to my lips before returning to my eyes. "Then you're free to go."
Something about that made my skin prickle.
"No personal entanglements," he added. "No office gossip. And you keep what you see and hear in this building to yourself."
"I'm not interested in your secrets," I said.
A ghost of a smile. "Everyone is."
I took a breath. "And last night?"
"What about it?"
"I don't want it hanging over my head."
"It isn't," he said. "Think of it as… an introduction."
I hesitated. Every instinct screamed that this was a bad idea. That men like him didn't give without taking something in return.
But the alternative was walking out with nothing.
"Fine," I said. "I'll stay."
"Good," he replied. "Your desk is outside. My assistant will brief you."
He turned away, already dismissing me.
Anger flared hot in my chest.
"You don't get to treat people like they're disposable," I said before I could stop myself.
He paused.
Slowly, he looked back over his shoulder.
"I don't," he said quietly. "I treat them like they're replaceable."
The distinction was thin and cruel.
I left before he could see how much that hurt.
My desk sat just outside his office, sleek and minimal, like everything else here. The woman who trained me—Mara—was efficient but kind, offering sympathetic smiles when Adrian barked orders through the intercom.
He didn't look at me all day.
That somehow felt worse than if he had.
Hours passed in a blur of emails, schedules, and phone calls. I learnt quickly. Adapted faster. It was the only way to survive.
Late afternoon, his door finally opened.
"Ms Monroe," he called.
I stood immediately, heart kicking up. "Yes?"
"Coffee," he said. "Black."
"That's it?"
"No," he added. "Sit."
I brought the coffee into his office, placing it carefully on his desk. He didn't thank me.
"Sit," he repeated, gesturing to the chair across from him.
I sat.
He studied me again, that assessing gaze digging under my skin.
"You did well today," he said finally.
The words caught me off guard. "Thank you."
"But don't mistake competence for immunity," he added.
There it was.
"I wouldn't dream of it."
A corner of his mouth lifted. "Good."
He leaned back. "You should know something."
"What?"
"I don't lose," he said simply. "Not deals. Not people."
My pulse quickened. "I'm not something you can win."
His eyes darkened. "We'll see."
Silence stretched between us, thick with things unsaid.
"Go home," he said finally. "Tomorrow starts early."
I stood, relief washing through me. "Good night, Mr Blackwood."
"Adrian," he corrected.
I paused. "Excuse me?"
"When we're alone," he said. "Call me Adrian."
My heart skipped, traitorous and fast.
"Alright," I said softly. "Adrian."
Something shifted in his expression. Satisfaction, maybe. Or something more dangerous.
I left his office with my heart pounding, my mind racing.
Behind me, Adrian Blackwood watched the door long after it closed.
And for the first time in years, control didn't feel quite as certain.