The The Blackwood tower pretended not to loom but it failed. Glass, steel, a lobby that could host a small country and still feel under-furnished.
The private elevator opened into a lobby that looked like money bullied stones into satin, a line of living trees that never dropped leaves, glass that held the city like a steady thought.
The receptionist rose before Ashley had fully stepped out waiting. The reception team had been briefed within an inch of their jobs. "Mrs. Blackwood," the lead said without blinking, as if he'd been saying it for years. "Welcome."
The title would have made her uneasy or unsettled before, but today, Ashley chose to bask in it.
"Good morning, Mr. Blackwood." A beat, a blink. "Mrs. Blackwood. Welcome." was all she heard for a while.
Julian's hand settled at the small of her back—steady, not possessive. "Tour first," he said, voice low. "Meeting later. After all, you're Mrs. Blackwood.
