Ella arrived at 7:45 A.M.
Fifteen minutes early.She wasn't giving him any ammunition today.
The elevator ride to the top floor felt like a walk to her own execution.
Ding.
The doors slid open.
Blackwood Enterprises' executive level gleamed with glass and steel—sleek, silent, cold.Just like him.
Her desk waited directly outside his office.Massive glass doors.Through them, she could see him on the phone, back turned, posture carved from arrogance.
Even his silhouette was intimidating.
Ella set down her bag.The desk was spotless—only a computer and a single red folder resting dead-center.
She opened it.
Her blood chilled.
TASK LIST – ELLA MONTGOMERY – DAY 1
Three pages.Single-spaced.
Review and rewrite twelve contracts.Reschedule all meetings for the next two weeks.Create a new filing system for every client record.Organize board-meeting materials.Prepare presentation slides.Cancel and apologize to fifteen appointments.Input five years of archives into the new database.
It was a week's worth of work—crammed into one day.
"Problem, Miss Montgomery?"
She jumped.
He stood in the doorway—perfect suit, dark gray today, not a coffee stain in sight.Those icy eyes swept over her, taking in everything.
She'd worn her best: a black pencil skirt, crisp white blouse.Professional. Safe.But under that gaze, she felt stripped bare.
"This task list," she said carefully. "It's… quite extensive."
"Is it?" He crossed the room, stopping right in front of her desk."I thought it was fairly light for a first day."
"Light?" She almost laughed. "This is impossible to finish in one day."
"Nothing is impossible, Miss Montgomery. Only difficult."His smile cut like glass. "Or are you admitting defeat already?"
A trap.
If she said yes, she was weak.If she said no, she was doomed.
"I'll do my best," she managed through clenched teeth.
"Your best." He leaned down, palms on her desk.Close enough for her to see the flecks of gray in those blue eyes.
"Your best isn't good enough," he murmured. "I want perfection."
"Then maybe you should've hired a robot."
His eyes flashed—dangerous. "Careful. I own your debts now. That means I own you."
Ella's jaw tightened. "You don't own people."
"Don't I?" He straightened, adjusting his cuffs."Get to work. Contracts by noon. Rescheduling by three. Everything else by end of day."
He turned away. The glass doors closed with a soft click.
Ella stared at the task list, fury trembling in her fingers.He was testing her—pushing until she cracked.
She wouldn't give him the satisfaction.
By noon, her eyes burned.
Eight contracts done. Four left.Coffee cold. Stomach empty.
"Miss Montgomery."
His voice came through the intercom.
"Yes?" She fought to sound steady.
"My office. Now."
Her legs protested as she stood. Four hours straight in that chair.
His office loomed—floor-to-ceiling windows spilling sunlight over black marble and power.
"The contracts," he said, eyes still on his monitor.
"I have eight finished. The other four—"
"I said noon."
"I know, but—"
"No excuses."His gaze lifted, cutting through her. "I gave you a deadline. You missed it."
"By four contracts! I've been working nonstop—"
"Not hard enough."
He rose, circling the desk, closing the distance between them.
"Do you know what happens when people disappoint me, Ella?"
Her name on his tongue sounded like danger.
"No," she whispered.
"They get punished."He stopped inches away. "You'll stay late tonight. Finish everything. I don't care if it takes until midnight."
"I have plans—"
"Cancel them."
"You can't just—"
"I can." His voice dropped low. "Section twelve of your contract—available whenever I need you. Day or night."
Her face flushed. "That's not legal—"
"It's perfectly legal. You signed it."His lips curved, cruel. "Did you even read it?"
She hadn't. She'd been desperate. Thinking only of her mother.
"That's what I thought." He waved her off. "Get back to work."
She left on shaking legs.Screaming would've felt good. Crying, even better.Instead, she sat down—and kept going.
By six p.m., the floor was deserted.Lights dimmed to after-hours glow.
Her back ached, her head throbbed, but the contracts were done.Rescheduling finished. Filing system halfway there.
Her phone buzzed.
Mom:How was your first day, sweetheart?
Tears stung her eyes. She couldn't tell the truth.
Great! Really great. :)
She set the phone down and kept typing.File. Sort. Input. Repeat.
Time dissolved.
When she next glanced at the clock—11:47 p.m.
Her eyelids drooped. Just a second of rest.
One minute, she told herself.Just one…
She didn't hear him come in.
Didn't hear the soft echo of shoes on marble.
Alexander paused in the doorway, watching her sleep.
Papers scattered. Screen still glowing.Her breathing, slow. Even.
Something twisted inside him—something he refused to name.
She'd done it.Worked herself past exhaustion to meet his impossible demands.
Most people quit. Called him cruel.But not her.
He stepped closer, quiet, studying the dark strands of hair that had fallen over her face.
Beautiful, even like this.
He'd seen the fire in her eyes that first day in the lobby—fear and defiance burning together.
She was everything the others weren't.Real. Honest. Breakable.
And he wanted to break her.
No—Not break.Own.
His hand hovered above her hair. He wanted to touch. To wake her. To see that spark flare again.
But something stopped him.
She looked peaceful.
He withdrew his hand.
"Foolish girl," he murmured. "You should've gone home."
Yet satisfaction curled through his chest.She'd stayed—for him.
His phone buzzed.
Marcus:Sir, there's been a situation. Your father wants a meeting. Tomorrow 9 A.M.
His jaw tightened. His father. Perfect.
He looked back at Ella. Still sleeping. Fragile.
His father would devour her.Good. Let him try.
Alexander turned toward the elevator.At the doors, he paused, pulled out his phone.
Text:Marcus. Bring Miss Montgomery a blanket. And coffee for when she wakes.– AB
He hit send before thinking.
As the elevator closed, his reflection stared back—cold, composed, yet… unsettled.
She was supposed to be a distraction. A toy.Someone to make him forget everything else.
But watching her sleep, something shifted.Something dangerous.
Morning sunlight hit her eyes.
A blanket slid off her shoulders.
She jerked upright. Neck stiff.Where—?
The office. Her desk.
6:23 A.M.
She'd slept here. All night. On her second day.
He was going to kill her.
Then she saw it—a steaming coffee cup. A note beside it.
You stayed. Good.But next time, use the couch in my office. The desk will ruin your neck.– A
P.S. The board meeting is at nine.Wear the dress I had delivered to your apartment.Don't be late.
Ella froze.He'd been here. Watched her sleep.Left her coffee.
And… sent a dress?
Her phone buzzed. Unknown number.
A photo.
A dress—black, elegant, breathtaking.Also completely wrong for work.
Silky. Sleeveless. The neckline dipped scandalously low.
Another text followed.
Wear it. Or face the consequences.– A
Her heart thudded.
What game was he playing?And why, deep down, did part of her want to play?