The first Test
897 Words
I barely slept that night.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw him—standing too close, looking at me like he already knew how this would end. His voice replayed in my head, calm and certain.
Because I won’t.
By morning, my nerves were shot.
I arrived at Blackwood Enterprises thirty minutes early, determined not to give him another reason to look at me like I was a disappointment waiting to happen. Amelia barely glanced up as I checked in.
“You’re early,” she noted.
“I plan to stay that way,” I replied.
She gave me a brief, almost approving nod. “Good. He likes efficiency.”
Likes wasn’t the word I would have chosen.
My desk sat just outside his office—close enough that the glass walls made me painfully aware of his presence. I could see him moving inside, sleeves rolled up, phone pressed to his ear as he spoke in a low, commanding tone.
“Cancel the meeting,” he said. “No, I don’t care how long they waited.”
He hung up without another word.
I swallowed.
So this was my new normal.
At exactly nine o’clock, my phone buzzed.
Mr. Blackwood: Come in.
I stood immediately, smoothed my skirt, and walked into his office.
He was seated behind his desk now, laptop open, attention sharp as ever. His eyes flicked up when I entered.
“You’re early again,” he said.
“Yes, sir.”
“Good.”
He slid a tablet toward me. “Your first task.”
I picked it up, scanning the screen. Meetings. Calls. Travel arrangements. Everything meticulously planned down to the minute.
“You’ll reorganize my schedule,” he continued. “Cut unnecessary meetings. Push the rest. I want space this afternoon.”
“For… personal time?” I asked before I could stop myself.
His gaze lifted slowly.
I instantly regretted it.
“You don’t ask questions like that,” he said calmly.
“I’m sorry.”
He studied me for a long moment, then leaned back in his chair.
“Consider this your first test,” he said. “Learn what needs to be asked—and what doesn’t.”
My cheeks warmed. “Understood.”
“Good. Now sit.”
I blinked. “Sit?”
He gestured to the chair across from him. “I want you to do it here.”
My pulse picked up as I sat, tablet balanced on my lap. The silence stretched as I worked, hyper-aware of his eyes occasionally flicking toward me.
Too aware.
“Why this job?” he asked suddenly.
I looked up. “Sir?”
“You heard me.”
I hesitated, choosing my words carefully. “I like being useful.”
Something about that answer caught his attention. His gaze sharpened.
“Useful people,” he said slowly, “are hard to replace.”
The way he said it made my stomach flutter—unsettling and unwanted.
I finished reorganizing the schedule and handed the tablet back.
He reviewed it, nodding once. “Efficient.”
Relief washed through me.
Then he stood.
“Come with me.”
My heart skipped. “Where?”
“Lunch.”
I froze. “Sir, the contract—”
“This is business,” he interrupted, already reaching for his jacket. “And you’ll need to learn how to keep up.”
I followed him out, my thoughts racing. Lunch wasn’t in the rules. Or maybe it was. The contract hadn’t specified where work ended.
The private elevator ride was quiet. Too quiet.
When we arrived at an upscale restaurant just across the street, heads turned. Of course they did. Men like him didn’t go unnoticed.
The waiter greeted him by name.
That alone told me everything.
We sat. I kept my posture straight, hands folded, reminding myself to breathe.
“You look tense,” he observed.
“I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not.”
I looked up, surprised.
“You’re trying too hard,” he continued. “Relax.”
Easier said than done.
Our food arrived. Conversation stayed professional—safe. Until it didn’t.
“You’re attractive,” he said suddenly.
I nearly dropped my fork.
“Sir—”
“Relax,” he said again, watching me closely. “It’s an observation, not an invitation.”
My heart pounded. “That’s… inappropriate.”
His lips curved faintly. “And yet honest.”
I pushed my chair back slightly. “If this crosses a line—”
He leaned forward, lowering his voice.
“Then walk away,” he reminded me. “That was the rule.”
I held his gaze, pulse racing.
“And if I don’t?” I asked quietly.
Something dark flickered in his eyes.
“Then you’ll learn,” he said, “why I warned you.”
The words settled heavily between us.
When lunch ended, he stood first, offering no hand, no reassurance. Just control.
Back at the office, he stopped outside his door.
“You did well today,” he said.
I exhaled.
“But don’t mistake approval for permission,” he added.
Then he opened the door and paused.
“Tomorrow,” he said, glancing back at me, “will be harder.”
And for the first time since meeting him, I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to run—
Or step closer.
- Writer
