A shiver ran down my spine when I stepped into the towering glass building of Blackwood Enterprises. It wasn't the cold, though the air-conditioning hummed at an almost inhuman chill. No, it was the weight of something unseen an intensity that lingered in the air like a whispered secret.
I clutched my portfolio tightly against my chest and adjusted my pencil skirt. It was my first day as an editorial assistant at Lustre, the high-end fashion magazine owned by the elusive and powerful Alexander Blackwood. I had read about him everyone had. Billionaire, ruthless businessman, a man whose name was synonymous with success, wealth, and mystery. But nothing could have prepared me for our first meeting.
As I made my way through the sleek, modern corridors, my heels clicking against the polished marble floors, I could feel the weight of curious gazes. It was no secret that Lustre was a place of competition and ambition, where only the best survived. I wasn't here to make friends - I was here to build a career.
"Miss Carter?"
I turned to see a poised blonde woman in a fitted navy dress, her lips pressed in a thin line. "Yes, that's me."
"I'm Camille, Mr. Blackwood's assistant. He'd like to see you in his office."
My stomach tightened. I hadn't expected to meet the man himself on my first day. Swallowing my nerves, I nodded and followed her through a set of double doors that led to the executive floor.
Camille stopped before an imposing black door. "He doesn't like to be kept waiting."
I took a steadying breath as she knocked and pushed the door open.
The office was vast, lined with floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the city. Shelves of leather-bound books lined one wall, and an abstract painting in deep, sensual reds and blacks dominated another. At the centre of the room stood a sleek mahogany desk, behind which sat the man himself.
Alexander Blackwood.
He was even more striking in person than in the endless media photos. Tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in a dark suit that was tailored to perfection. His raven-black hair was neatly styled, but there was an unruly strand that fell across his forehead, giving him a dangerous edge. But it was his eyes that held me captive piercing grey, sharp and assessing, as if he could see right through me.
"Miss Carter," he said, his voice deep and smooth. "Sit."
I obeyed, my pulse quickening as I lowered myself onto the plush leather chair across from him. He steepled his fingers, watching me in silence for a moment that stretched too long.
"Do you know why you're here?" he finally asked.
I cleared my throat, trying to steady my voice. "I assumed it was for my position at Lustre."
His lips quirked slightly, but there was no amusement in his expression. "Partly. But also because I make it a point to know everyone who works under me. I don't tolerate incompetence, Miss Carter."
I met his gaze, refusing to shrink under the intensity. "I don't intend to be incompetent, Mr. Blackwood."
His brow arched, and for the briefest moment, something flickered in his eyes. Interest? Amusement? It was gone before I could decipher it.
"Good," he said. "Then we won't have a problem."
The tension in the room was thick, an unspoken energy crackling between us. I knew men like him powerful, in control, used to people bending to their will. But I wasn't sure I was ready for the way his presence unsettled me, made me aware of every breath, every shift in my posture.
His phone buzzed, and he glanced at the screen before looking back at me. "That will be all for now, Miss Carter. Welcome to Lustre."
I rose, my legs slightly unsteady, and turned to leave. But just as my fingers brushed the handle, his voice stopped me.
"One more thing."
I turned, my heart hammering. "Yes?"
His gaze darkened, and a slow, knowing smirk played at the corner of his lips. "Try not to get distracted."
I swallowed hard, nodding before stepping out of his office.
As the doors shut behind me, I exhaled the breath I hadn't realized I was holding.
Something told me Alexander Blackwood was going to be more than just my boss.
He was going to be my undoing.
The rest of my day passed in a blur of introductions and whispered speculations. The Lustre office was a whirlwind of sleek desks, high-end fashion samples, and employees who moved with practised grace, as though their every step was a carefully choreographed dance. I was assigned a small workspace near the editorial team, with a direct line to Camille, who I quickly learned was as efficient as she was intimidating.
By lunchtime, I had already familiarized myself with the intricate web of office politics. There were the veteran writers, who eyed me with a mix of curiosity and thinly veiled condescension. The junior staff were too engrossed in their survival to pay me much attention. And then there was Rachel Monroe - Lustre's senior fashion editor and self-proclaimed queen bee.
Rachel was tall, elegant, and effortlessly intimidating. The moment she spotted me in the break room, she glided over, her designer heels clicking against the floor like a warning.
"So you're the new girl."
"Yes," I replied, keeping my tone neutral.
Her perfectly arched brow lifted. "You met him already?"
It didn't take a genius to know she was talking about Alexander Blackwood.
"I did."
Rachel's red-painted lips curved into a smirk. "And? Did he undress you with his eyes?"
I blinked, caught off guard by her bluntness. "Excuse me?"
"Oh, don't play coy." She leaned in, her voice lowering. "Men like him don't just look at women they consume them. I've seen it happen before."
I forced a chuckle. "I think he was more interested in making sure I do my job properly."
Rachel studied me for a moment before shrugging. "We'll see."
With that, she turned on her heel and walked away, leaving me with more questions than answers.
What had she meant by I've seen it happen before? And why did her words send a thrill of anticipation through me, rather than a warning?
As I returned to my desk, I felt the weight of Alexander Blackwood's presence, even from floors away. Something about him was a mystery I wasn't sure I wanted to solve.
But I had a feeling I wouldn't have a choice.