TAMING MR BLACKWELL

WHATEVER GAME ADRIAN BLACKWELL WAS PLAYING, I HAD JUST BECOME A PART OF IT.

(Ivy’s POV)

It was barely 9:30 AM, and he had already stacked my workload high enough to drown me.

I inhaled through my nose, fighting the urge to march back into his office and slam my resignation letter onto his desk. Not that I had one prepared yet, but at this rate, I might need to draft one by the end of the day.

Instead, I exhaled slowly, rolling my shoulders back. I could handle this, I would handle this. Adrian Blackwood wasn’t going to intimidate me. If he thought he could scare me into quitting, he had picked the wrong woman.

With renewed determination, I dove back into my work, flipping through pages, scanning data, my fingers flying over the keyboard as I typed out the summarized report.

Thirty minutes in, my phone buzzed. A message.

Unknown Number: You’re taking too long, Miss Carter.

I blinked, then, slowly, my gaze lifted toward his office door. The glass walls were frosted just enough to obscure the finer details inside, but I knew. I knew he was watching me.

The audacity.

Grinding my teeth, I set my phone down without replying. If he wanted to play mind games, he would have to try harder than that.

I pushed forward, fueled by nothing but sheer spite and caffeine, knocking out task after task. By the time the hour was up, I had not only completed the summarized report, but I had also outlined the legal draft, flagged the discrepancies in the budget report, and rearranged his schedule in a way that would make his life easier, but I’d never tell him that.

Gathering the completed files, I stood, smoothing down my blouse. Then, with practiced calm, I strode back into his office.

Adrian was exactly where I had left him, seated behind his desk, eyes fixed on his monitor, fingers tapping against the keyboard with sharp precision.

I set the documents down in front of him. “Your report, Mr. Blackwell. No mistakes.” He looked up, his sharp gaze flickered over my face, searching, waiting.

For what? A crack in my composure? A sign of frustration? I gave him nothing. He'd wait for a life time then.

He reached for the report, flipping through the pages with a practiced efficiency. The seconds stretched as he scanned my work, his expression unreadable.

As I turned on my heel and walked out, my heartbeat way too loud in my ears. I refused to let him get to me. I refused to let that stupid, almost-smirk linger in my mind longer than it should.

But as I sat back at my desk, I couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever game Adrian Blackwell was playing, I had just become a part of it.

..........

Adrian

The aroma of black coffee cut through the sterile air of my office, I didn’t need to look up to know it was there. I hadn’t asked for it, never mentioned a damn word about coffee.

My fingers continued their steady rhythm against the keyboard, the rhythmic clack mingling with the distant hum of the city outside. The scent was persistent, curling around me like an intruder, but I ignored it.

Ivy Carter stood across from my desk, silent but present, waiting for acknowledgment. I could feel her there, could sense the weight of her gaze. Yet, I kept my eyes fixed on the screen in front of me.

The coffee sat mere inches away, untouched, yet its presence demanded attention. It lingered like a question, would she leave or would she dare to call my attention?

For long moments, she did nothing. Just waited. And then came her voice, calm, steady, a sound that dared to break the silence. “Your coffee, sir.”

I didn’t respond right away. Instead, I let the moment stretch, finishing the sentence I was typing. Only when I was done did I lean back in my chair, my hand finally stretching toward the cup.

The ceramic felt warm against my palm as I lifted it, my movements slow, deliberate. I stared at the black liquid for a moment, watching the faint curls of steam rise and disappear into the air. It was black, just the way I liked it.

I brought it to my lips, and the bitterness hit instantly. Strong, sharp, and unyielding. It clawed against my senses, demanding acknowledgment. A lesser man would have winced. I didn’t, but the surprise lingered, a quiet jolt that I refused to let show.

I set the cup down with deliberate slowness, my fingers still wrapped around the handle. She had gotten it right, she had passed the first test.

I glanced at her, her face composed, her posture unshaken. Her lips were slightly raised.

Damn her confidence. She knew, and that irritated me more than it should have.

She read that plain coffee was good for the health? I knew she was lying. But, of course, she’d never admit that.

She hadn’t asked how I liked my coffee, I didn't even mention coffee. She had guessed right, she knew what, and how I like my coffee. Black, no sugar, no cream.

And that alone was enough to set me on edge, but would she pass the next tests? She wouldn’t, no one did.

I leaned back in my chair, watching as she exited the office, her heels clicking against the floor in a steady rhythm. She didn’t stumble, didn't waver. She walked away like she belonged here, like she had already figured me out.

I wasn’t sure if I liked that. My fingers tapped idly against the desk. She was different. I knew it from the moment she stepped into this office. She was composed, unshaken by my scrutiny. The past eleven assistants had either quit or crumbled within weeks, some within days. But Ivy Carter didn’t fidget under pressure, she met it head-on.

It should have been a relief to finally find someone competent, instead, it felt like a problem. Because Ivy Carter reminded me of someone.

The realization sat heavy in my chest, a weight I had spent two years pretending didn’t exist. I forced myself to focus, pushing away the unwelcome thoughts, but they clung to me like a shadow.

The last person who had stood where Ivy did. The only assistant who had ever lasted, the only woman I had ever let close. My jaw tightened slightly.

She had been perfect at her job. Too perfect. She had known me, my routines, my habits, my moods, without needing to ask. She didn't for once challenge me, nor matched me, she was patient. She made it feel working with me was easy.

But then she was gone.

Two years had passed, and I still hadn’t been able to replace her. Not for lack of trying.

Eleven assistants had come and gone, each one proving that no matter how skilled, no one could fill the void she left behind. No one could match her patience, her intelligence, the way she handled me with patience.

Ivy Carter was nothing close to her, they're two opposite people. But, something about her, reminded me of something I've buried for years.