Chapter 3: Back in New York, New Rules
1718 Words
The flight back to New York was quiet.
Too quiet.
Adrian worked the entire two hours. Laptop open. Emails flying. Phone buzzing every five minutes.
I sat next to him and tried not to think about the hospital. About his “thank you.” About the $10,000 sitting in my account.
When we landed, a car was waiting. Black. Tinted windows.
“Office,” Adrian told the driver. Then he turned to me. “We need to talk.”
My stomach dropped. “About?”
“You’ll see.”
Blackwood Tower looked the same. But I felt different.
The secretary gave me a second glance as we walked in. Like she’d heard something.
Adrian’s office doors were closed. He opened them and gestured for me to go in first.
“Sit,” he said.
I sat.
He didn’t sit behind his desk. He leaned against the front of it, arms crossed. Looking down at me.
“Friday,” he said.
I nodded.
“The hospital.”
“Yeah.”
“The money.”
My face went hot. “You didn’t have to”
“I know.” He cut me off. “I did it because I wanted to.”
Silence.
“New rules, Ava,” he said. “Starting today.”
I straightened. “Okay.”
“Rule 1: You don’t lie to me.”
“I don’t”
“Rule 2: You don’t quit.”
“I wasn’t going to”
“Rule 3: When I ask if you hate me, you tell the truth.”
My breath caught. “And what’s the truth?”
He studied me. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”
He pushed off the desk and walked to the window. The whole city behind him.
“My father is awake,” he said quietly. “He’s going to be fine.”
Relief flooded me. “That’s good.”
“Yeah.” A pause. “He asked about you.”
I choked. “Me?”
“Apparently his nurse mentioned ‘the young woman who stayed all night.’” He glanced at me over his shoulder. “He thinks you’re my girlfriend.”
I stood up so fast my chair screeched. “What? No. I’m your assistant. That’s it.”
Adrian turned. And he was smiling. A real one. Small, but real.
“I told him that too.”
“Good.”
“Then he asked why my assistant was holding my hand at 3 AM.”
My mouth opened. Closed. “I wasn’t”
“You were.” He walked back to me. Stopped close. “You fell asleep. In the chair. And you grabbed my hand.”
I remembered nothing. But my face was burning.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“Don’t be.” His voice was low. “It was... nice.”
The word hung between us.
Nice.
Adrian Blackwood said something was nice.
My phone buzzed. Then his. Then the office phone.
The moment broke.
“Back to work,” he said, mask sliding back on. “You have 20 emails to answer and a gala to plan for Saturday.”
The next 3 days were a blur.
Emails. Calls. Dress fittings. Vendor meetings.
Adrian was still cold. Still demanding. Still making me get coffee.
But different.
He didn’t make me run for it anymore.
He didn’t criticize every typo.
And twice, I caught him looking at me. Not like he hated me. Like he was trying to figure me out.
Friday night. The gala.
Black tie. Crystal. Champagne.
I was in a black dress I’d rented with the advance money. Simple. Elegant. I felt like a fraud.
“Stop fidgeting,” Adrian murmured as we walked in. His hand at the small of my back. “You look fine.”
“Fine?”
“Beautiful,” he corrected quickly. Too quickly.
The night was torture. Smiling. Networking. Pretending I belonged.
At midnight, Adrian pulled me onto the balcony.
“Break,” he said.
The city was below us. Lights everywhere.
“Why am I here?” I asked.
“Because you’re my assistant.”
“That’s not why.”
He leaned on the railing. “No. It’s not.”
“Then why?”
“Because I wanted you here.” He looked at me. “Is that a problem?”
“Yes,” I said honestly. “Because I don’t understand you.”
“Join the club.” He laughed. Actually laughed. “Three years ago you cost me 40 million dollars. Now you’re the only person I trust to answer my emails.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“I know.” He turned to me fully. “Ava, I”
The doors opened.
“Mr. Blackwood! The board needs you!”
The moment was gone.
Saturday night turned into Sunday morning.
I got home at 2 AM and slept for 12 hours.
When I woke up, there was an email.
From Adrian.
Subject: Monday
Body: My place. 8 AM. We’re working from home. Don’t be late.
Address attached.
His place.
8 AM. Penthouse. 70th floor.
The doorman knew my name.
“Miss Bennett. Mr. Blackwood is expecting you.”
The elevator opened straight into his apartment.
Floor to ceiling windows. Minimal furniture. Everything black, white, and gray.
And Adrian. In sweatpants and a t-shirt. Hair still wet.
He looked... younger.
“Morning,” he said.
“Morning.”
“Coffee’s in the kitchen. Help yourself.”
I made coffee. Black. For both of us.
We worked at his dining table. Laptops side by side.
It was weird. Comfortable and weird.
At noon, he ordered lunch.
At 3 PM, he asked, “Why did you apply here? You knew who I was.”
I stared at my laptop. “I needed the money.”
“That’s not the whole truth.”
I sighed. “Fine. Part of me wanted to see if you’d changed.”
“Have I?”
“A little.”
He nodded. “Good.”
6 PM.
“You can go,” he said.
I packed up. At the door:
“Ava.”
I turned.
“Dinner. Tomorrow. With me.”
“It’s not a date,” he added quickly. “It’s... a thank you. For the hospital.”
“Okay,” I said. “Not a date.”
“Good.”
Monday. Dinner.
A small restaurant. Private room.
We talked. Really talked.
About his father. About my mom. About the stupid mistake I made three years ago.
“I was angry,” I admitted. “At the world. At myself. I didn’t know you’d see the email.”
“I know,” he said. “I was an arrogant jerk back then too.”
“You still are.”
He grinned. “Fair.”
Dessert came. Chocolate cake. We shared it.
When we left, it was raining.
He walked me to my car. Well, my bus stop.
“I’ll drive you,” he said.
“It’s fine”
“Ava.”
“Okay.”
In the car, silence. Comfortable.
At my apartment building, he stopped.
“Thank you,” he said. “For tonight.”
“Thank you for dinner.”
He reached over and brushed a piece of hair behind my ear. His fingers lingered.
“Ava, I”
My phone rang. Hospital.
I answered. “Hello?”
“Ava? It’s about your mother. We need to talk about the treatment plan.”
My heart stopped.
Adrian saw my face. “What is it?”
“They... they want to change her medication. It’s expensive. Even with the advance.”
He didn’t hesitate. “We’ll figure it out.”
“Adrian, you don’t—”
“I do.” He put the car in park. “Come on. We’re going to the hospital.”
The doctor explained it. New drug. Better results. $15,000 more.
I was shaking. “I can’t—”
“I can,” Adrian said. “I’ll cover it.”
“Why?”
“Because you stayed with me at the hospital.” He looked at me. “Because you didn’t have to. Because I want to.”
The doctor left us to discuss it.
“Adrian, this is too much.”
“It’s money.” He shrugged. “I have it.”
“That’s not the point.”
“Then what is the point, Ava?” He stepped closer. “The point is that I don’t hate you anymore. The point is that I think about you when you’re not here. The point is that I don’t want you to be scared about your mom.”
Tears were falling. I couldn’t stop them.
“Adrian...”
“Can I kiss you?” he asked suddenly.
The question shocked me. “What?”
“Can I kiss you?” He repeated. Softer. “Because I’ve been wanting to since Chicago.”
I should say no. This was my boss. The man I used to hate.
But I was tired of hating.
“Yes,” I whispered.
He kissed me.
It wasn’t angry. It wasn’t revenge.
It was soft. Careful. Like he was afraid I’d break.
When we pulled apart, I was crying and laughing.
“This is a terrible idea,” I said.
“The worst,” he agreed, smiling. “So what do we do?”
“We pretend it didn’t happen. At work.”
“And after work?”
“After work...” I looked at him. “We figure it out.”
He nodded. “Deal.”
The next morning.
Back at Blackwood Tower.
“Sit,” Adrian said, like always.
I sat.
“Coffee?” he asked.
“I’ll get it.”
“No.” He stood and walked to the kitchenette in his office. Came back with two cups. Black.
He set one in front of me.
“New rule,” he said.
“What?”
“I get the coffee sometimes too.”
I stared at him. Then laughed.
“What’s funny?”
“Nothing.” I took a sip. “It’s perfect.”
He sat behind his desk. But his eyes never left mine.
Hating him was supposed to be my full-time job.
But I think I just got promoted.
To something else entirely.
End of Chapter
- Writer
