Chapter Two
1482 Words
When she finally reached her floor, she stumbled into her small cubicle, heart still thundering. The world around her bustled as usual—phones ringing, printers humming, coworkers hurrying past—but Sophia felt removed from it all, as though the ground beneath her feet had shifted without anyone else noticing.
She sank into her chair and pulled out her notepad, staring blankly at the scribbled notes. None of it made sense. None of it felt real.
“Sophia!”
She flinched, looking up to see Emily, one of the other assistants, leaning over the partition between their desks. Her strawberry blonde hair was impeccably styled, and she wore a bright smile that immediately made Sophia feel even more disheveled.
“Hey,” Sophia said, voice faint.
“You okay? You look like you saw a ghost.”
Sophia hesitated. She didn’t want to share what had just happened. It felt… private. Dangerous, somehow. As if speaking about it would solidify something she wasn’t ready to face.
“I’m fine,” she lied. “Just… a lot on my mind.”
Emily gave her a sympathetic smile. “Tell me about it. Blackwood’s here, and the partners are all losing their minds. I heard he fired an entire accounting team once because someone spilled coffee during a presentation.”
Sophia swallowed hard. “That sounds… extreme.”
“Yeah, well, that’s billionaires for you.” Emily rolled her eyes. “They’re not exactly normal people.”
No, Sophia thought, glancing down at her notes. Dominic Blackwood was not normal. He was something else entirely.
Something she didn’t have a name for yet.
The rest of the day passed in a haze. Sophia kept her head down, answering emails, preparing reports, anything to keep her mind busy. But it didn’t work. Every spare second, her thoughts drifted back to him. To the way he looked at her. To the way he commanded her.
By the time five o’clock rolled around, Sophia was exhausted. She gathered her things slowly, half-hoping the floor would open up and swallow her so she wouldn’t have to face whatever tomorrow would bring.
As she slung her bag over her shoulder and headed toward the elevators, her phone buzzed. She fished it out, expecting a text from her sister or maybe an alert from her bank.
Instead, it was an email.
From: Dominic Blackwood
Subject: Instructions
She stopped dead in her tracks, pulse spiking.
Hand shaking slightly, she opened it.
Meet me tomorrow morning at 7:00 a.m. sharp. Private conference room 41B. Do not be late. — D. Blackwood
There was no greeting. No pleasantries. Just cold, unyielding instruction.
Sophia stared at the screen, her stomach knotting. 7:00 a.m. was two hours earlier than her normal start time. And private conference room 41B? That was near the executive suites—territory reserved for the firm’s biggest clients.
Why? Why her?
The question had no answer. And deep down, a part of her—the part she tried very hard to ignore—thrilled at the challenge, at the idea of being noticed by someone like Dominic Blackwood.
Stupid, she thought. Dangerous.
But it was too late. She was already caught in the current, and it was pulling her closer to him with every passing second.
The next morning, Sophia was awake before her alarm even buzzed. She showered quickly, choosing her outfit with more care than usual. Her wardrobe was modest—pencil skirts, blouses, sensible heels—but today she chose her sharpest black skirt and a pale blue blouse that made her brown eyes look deeper, richer.
She pulled her hair into a sleek low bun and applied a touch of makeup, just enough to look polished.
By the time she stepped out into the crisp morning air, the city was still shaking off its slumber. The streets were quieter than usual, the sidewalks populated mostly by delivery trucks and early commuters.
Sophia’s heart pounded with every step she took toward the office, dread and anticipation warring inside her.
When she arrived, the lobby was nearly empty. The security guard at the front desk gave her a surprised look but waved her through after checking her badge.
She rode the elevator to the forty-first floor in silence, staring at her reflection in the polished doors.
You can do this, she told herself. It’s just a meeting. Just a job.
But her instincts screamed otherwise.
Conference room 41B was tucked away at the end of a long, silent hallway. Sophia’s heels echoed with every step she took toward it.
She hesitated outside the door, gathering her courage, then knocked softly.
“Come in.”
The voice, low and commanding, made her breath catch.
She pushed the door open.
Dominic Blackwood stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, his silhouette framed by the rising sun. He turned slowly to face her, and Sophia’s heart skipped a beat.
He was dressed impeccably again, in a charcoal suit that somehow made him look even more lethal.
“Good. You’re punctual,” he said, voice devoid of praise.
Sophia stepped inside, letting the door close behind her with a soft click.
“Come here,” he instructed.
Her feet moved before her brain caught up. She crossed the room, stopping a few feet in front of him. Close enough to smell the crisp, expensive cologne he wore—something dark and smoky that made her dizzy.
Dominic studied her for a long moment, and she had the distinct impression he was weighing something.
Finally, he spoke.
“Take out your notepad.”
She did, hands trembling slightly.
“I have certain expectations,” he said. “If you are to work with me, you will follow my instructions exactly. No hesitation. No questions unless I permit them. Do you understand?”
Sophia’s mouth went dry. She nodded.
“Use your words, Sophia.”
The way he said her name sent a jolt down her spine.
“Yes, Mr. Blackwood,” she whispered.
“Good.”
He took a step closer, and she instinctively tensed.
“You’re nervous,” he observed.
She nodded again, cheeks flushing.
“That’s good. You should be.”
Sophia’s hands clenched around her notepad.
“Tell me, Sophia. Do you always do as you’re told?”
The question hung in the air, thick and heavy.
She hesitated, then whispered, “Yes.”
A slow smile curved his lips, predatory and knowing.
“I thought so.”
He circled her then, slow and deliberate, as if inspecting her from every angle. Sophia stood perfectly still, every nerve ending alive with awareness.
“You’re different,” he murmured, almost to himself. “Not like the others. They chase power. You… you hide from it.”
He stopped in front of her again, tilting her chin up with two fingers so she was forced to meet his eyes.
“That’s why I chose you.”
Sophia’s heart thundered so loudly she could barely hear over it.
“You will report directly to me from now on. No one else. If I send you a message, you respond immediately. If I give you a task, you complete it flawlessly. Understood?”
“Yes, Mr. Blackwood.”
The ghost of a smile touched his mouth.
“You’ll find I am… particular,” he said. “And I reward obedience.”
Her breath caught at the dark promise layered beneath his words.
“Now,” he said, releasing her chin. “Your first assignment.”
He gestured to a stack of folders on the table behind him.
“Organize these files. Memorize the key points. We have a board meeting at noon, and I expect you to be prepared to brief me if necessary.”
Sophia nodded, grateful for a task—any task—that would let her focus on something other than the molten tension between them.
She moved to the table and began sorting the folders, forcing herself to concentrate on the dry legal language. But she could feel his eyes on her, sharp and assessing, as she worked.
Minutes stretched into an hour, then two.
Dominic remained mostly silent, occasionally dictating a note or correcting a small error. He never raised his voice, never showed frustration—but his presence was like a constant, oppressive heat, impossible to ignore.
By the time noon approached, Sophia’s nerves were stretched taut.
She stood behind him as he reviewed the final briefing, her heart pounding.
Without turning, he spoke.
“Good work, Sophia.”
She blinked, stunned by the unexpected praise.
And then, with a glance over his shoulder, he added, “You may sit in on the meeting.”
Sophia opened her mouth to protest—assistants didn’t sit in on board meetings—but the look in his eyes dared her to argue.
So she nodded instead.
“Yes, Mr. Blackwood.”
- Writer
