Chapter 4 - The unfinished business
812 Words
The morning fog clung to the glass monolithic towers of the city like a shroud. Aria Bennett stepped out of the taxi, her body aching, her mind a chaotic storm of adrenaline and mounting dread. She looked up at the gleaming facade of Blackwood Atelier. It was an intimidating fortress of chrome and dark glass, smelling faintly of old money, heavy ambition, and luxury high fashion.
Just three hours ago, she had been slipping out of a billionaire's penthouse like a thief in the night. Now, she was holding her leather portfolio case against her chest like a shield, walking straight into his territory.
He won't be there, she lied to herself, taking a sharp breath as she rode the elevator up to the 40th floor. A CEO like Damien Blackwood doesn't sit in on entry-level designer interviews. Just breathe. Act normal.
When her name was finally called, Aria forced her spine into a rigid, professional line. She smoothed down her thrifted, neatly pressed blazer, locked her jaw, and pushed open the heavy oak doors of the grand boardroom.
The room was vast, dominated by a massive marble conference table. Sitting on the far side were three high-ranking executives, including Victoria Sinclair—the chief designer, looking immaculate in a sharp cream suit, her eyes tracking Aria with cold, immediate dismissal.
But Aria’s breath completely trapped itself in her throat when her eyes landed on the center chair.
Sitting there, surrounded by the elite panel, was Damien Blackwood.
He looked entirely different from the feral, dark predator of the night before. He wore a flawless three-piece charcoal suit, a silver silk tie, and an aura of absolute, untouchable authority. His dark, piercing eyes slowly rose from a tablet, locking directly onto her freezing frame. He didn't look surprised. In fact, a dark, dangerous calculation gleamed in his expression.
Aria’s knuckles turned white against her portfolio case. Every instinct screamed at her to turn and run, but the memory of Jason’s mocking laugh echoed in her mind: “Women like you... stay struggling.”
No. She wouldn't let her past or her mistakes crush her. She forced her voice into a completely level, professional register. "Good morning, members of the panel. I am Aria Bennett."
Damien leaned back in his leather chair, steepled his long fingers under his chin, and let a heavy, suffocating silence stretch across the room. Victoria Sinclair frowned slightly, glancing at the CEO, confused by the sudden drop in temperature.
"Miss Bennett," Victoria broke the silence, tapping her gold pen. "Your blind submission sketch was... unusually brilliant. The structural framework of the collection is bold. But it requires an immense amount of discipline to execute in a luxury house like this one."
Damien suddenly leaned forward, his dark eyes boring holes straight through Aria's composure.
"The structural framework is indeed bold," Damien echoed, his deep, velvety voice cutting through the room like a blade. "But Victoria is right. Discipline is everything. Tell me, Miss Bennett... do you always have a habit of leaving your work unfinished?"
Aria’s heart hammered against her ribs, but she refused to drop her gaze. She looked straight back into his eyes, matching his intensity. "I ensure every project I touch is executed to absolute perfection, Mr. Blackwood."
Damien’s lips played with a cold, microscopic smirk. He tilted his head, his gaze dropping briefly to her lips before rising back to her eyes. "Interesting. Because looking at your history, you seem to have a distinct habit... of running away before sunrise."
Aria felt the air leave her lungs. Her fingers gripped her portfolio so tightly the leather creaked. He was playing with her. He was testing her boundary, holding her entire future over her head like a guillotine.
Victoria Sinclair’s frown deepened. She looked between Damien's intense stare and Aria's pale, defiant face, sensing an underlying current she couldn't decipher.
"Excuse me, Mr. Blackwood?" Victoria asked, her tone laced with corporate curiosity and a sudden spike of jealousy. "Is there something about Miss Bennett’s background we aren't aware of? A disciplinary issue with a previous employer?"
Aria held her breath, waiting for the axe to fall. If Damien revealed the lounge or the penthouse, her credibility in the fashion world would be turned to ash before it even began.
Damien never broke eye contact with Aria. He watched her chest rise and fall, tracking the fierce pride that kept her from breaking under his weight.
"No," Damien murmured smoothly, leaning back into his chair but keeping his trap firmly shut around her. "I simply dislike unfinished business. Let's see if she can handle the pressure, Victoria. Miss Bennett... present your first piece."
The Oak doors remained closed. The trap was set. Aria was officially inside his cage, and she knew right then—Damien Blackwood had no intention of letting her escape a second time.
- Writer
