The morning sun spilled across the city skyline, painting the glass towers gold. Lena Hart stood outside the shimmering façade of Blackwood Holdings, clutching the letter that had kept her awake all night.
The building was intimidating—fifty floors of polished ambition. Men and women in sleek suits hurried through the revolving doors, each one moving like time itself bowed to their schedules. Lena felt painfully small among them, her second-hand blazer too tight, her shoes clicking awkwardly on the marble steps.
What am I doing here? she thought.
This was probably a mistake.
She could almost hear Maya's voice teasing her. "Girl, billionaires don't just send job invites. They send lawsuits."
But curiosity had won over fear. She had nothing to lose, and if Adrian Blackwood wanted to mock her, she'd face him with what little pride she had left.
Inside, the air smelled of expensive perfume and power. The receptionist, a sleek woman with flawless makeup, eyed Lena with polite confusion.
"Good morning," Lena said, her voice steady despite her pounding heart. "I—I have an appointment with Mr. Blackwood."
"Your name?"
"Lena Hart."
The receptionist checked her screen, eyebrows arching. "Miss Hart… yes, he's expecting you."
He was?
"Take the private elevator to the top floor," the woman said, her tone softening slightly. "Mr. Blackwood doesn't usually—well, you're very lucky, Miss."
Lucky.
Lena wasn't sure if that was the right word.
---
The elevator ride felt endless. Each floor number that blinked past was a reminder that she was stepping into a world completely different from hers. When the doors finally opened, she was greeted by silence—thick, almost reverent silence.
A large office stretched before her, its floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. Black marble floors, silver fixtures, and bookshelves lined with leather-bound volumes gave the room a museum-like elegance.
And there he was—Adrian Blackwood—standing by the window, his back to her. His suit was perfectly tailored, his posture relaxed yet powerful. He didn't turn immediately, but somehow, she felt his awareness of her the moment she entered.
"Miss Hart," he said, his voice smooth and low. "You came."
"I shouldn't have," she replied quietly. "But your letter didn't exactly leave room for choice."
He turned then, and the full force of his presence hit her like a wave. Those storm-gray eyes seemed to see everything—her nerves, her doubt, even the trembling in her fingers.
"I don't send letters often," he said, walking toward her. "When I do, I expect them to be answered."
She swallowed. "What do you want from me?"
"A job," he said simply.
Her eyebrows shot up. "A job?"
He stopped a few feet from her, hands in his pockets. "You work hard. I saw that yesterday. You're efficient, polite, and unafraid to speak your mind when provoked. I need someone like that."
"You watched me serve coffee for five minutes and decided I'd be a good employee?"
His lips twitched faintly. "I've made billion-dollar deals in less time."
She frowned. "You don't even know me."
"That's what interviews are for."
Lena crossed her arms, half in disbelief. "And what kind of job are you offering?"
"Personal assistant," he said. "It's demanding. Long hours, high expectations. You'll travel with me, handle meetings, schedule calls, manage projects. In return, you'll be compensated generously."
"How generously?"
He named a figure.
Lena almost choked. "That's— that's more than I make in a year!"
"I'm aware," he said evenly. "But money isn't the problem. Commitment is."
She stared at him, her thoughts spinning. Was this real? Why her? What could a man like Adrian Blackwood possibly need from someone like her?
"You could hire anyone," she said finally. "Why me?"
He studied her for a moment. "Because everyone I hire eventually lies to me. I don't think you're a liar."
The silence that followed felt heavy.
"You don't even know me well enough to say that," she said softly.
"I don't need to," he replied. "You wear your honesty like armor. It's… refreshing."
Her cheeks warmed despite herself. "I don't think I'm the right fit for your world."
He walked closer, until there was barely a breath between them. "Maybe my world needs someone who doesn't fit."
Her pulse quickened. She looked up into his eyes and saw something she hadn't expected—loneliness. A quiet, haunted kind of loneliness that mirrored her own.
She stepped back, flustered. "I'll think about it."
"You'll accept," he said calmly, as if reading her decision before she made it. "And when you do, you'll realize this was never an accident."
Lena hesitated, caught between fear and curiosity. "And if I say no?"
He smiled faintly. "Then you'll go back to the diner, keep paying debts that aren't yours, and wonder every night what might've happened if you'd taken the chance."
His words struck deep. She hated that he was right.
"I don't like being manipulated," she said quietly.
"I'm not manipulating you," he said, turning back toward the window. "I'm offering you a door. What you do with it is your choice."
---
Lena left the building in a daze. The city felt different now—louder, sharper, somehow smaller. She walked aimlessly until she found herself back at the fountain where they'd first met.
The water glittered in the sunlight, just as it had under the moon. She sat down, tracing a finger across the surface.
A job with Adrian Blackwood.
It sounded unreal. Dangerous. Tempting.
Her phone buzzed again. Another message from Ethan.
> Heard you quit the diner. Trying to impress someone new already?
She stared at the screen, anger bubbling under her skin. She deleted the message without replying.
A gust of wind swept past, scattering the surface of the fountain. It felt like the world whispering go forward.
She stood, resolve hardening in her chest. "Fine," she murmured. "I'll take your stupid door, Adrian Blackwood. Let's see where it leads."
---
Back in his office, Adrian stood by the window, a faint smile ghosting across his lips as he watched her walk away through the glass reflection.
He turned to his assistant, who had entered quietly. "Prepare a contract for Miss Hart," he said.
"Yes, sir. Should I include the confidentiality clause?"
"Of course," Adrian replied, his gaze distant. "She'll need it."
The assistant hesitated. "Sir, if I may ask… who is she to you?"
Adrian's jaw tightened. "No one," he said after a long pause. "Just someone who reminds me of everything I once lost."