Chapter 10
610 Words
Chapter Ten
Sphie arrived at Blackwell Industries at exactly 8 a.m., her fingers curled around a scalding-hot coffee and her notepad tucked beneath her arm. The sleek high-rise loomed over the city, its mirrored glass reflecting the gray morning sky.
She had expected a labyrinth of gatekeepers—a receptionist who would ask her to wait, an assistant who would stall her, a line of people ensuring that Lucas Blackwell was prepared before she entered his space.
Instead, as she approached his office door, it swung open.
Lucas stood there, leaning casually against the frame, dressed in a crisp white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, dark slacks, and an easy confidence that set her on edge.
“You’re early,” he noted, smirking just slightly.
“You’re surprised?” She stepped past him, ignoring the electric charge of his presence as she took in the room.
It was exactly what she would have expected—massive, sleek, powerful. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the city skyline, modern furniture was arranged with the kind of effortless precision only money could buy, and an entire wall was lined with bookshelves, filled with actual books, not just expensive décor.
But what really caught her attention was his desk.
It was covered in blueprints, contracts, reports, financial statements—not just a few scattered documents but piles of them, as if he had been working well before she arrived.
She raised an eyebrow, setting her coffee down. “And here I thought billionaires spent their mornings on yachts.”
Lucas chuckled, closing the door behind her. “Some do. I prefer to build things.”
She walked toward the desk, fingers trailing along the edges of thick folders and rolled-up blueprints. Everything was laid out in organized chaos—the marks of someone who didn’t just sign contracts but studied them.
“Is this what you wanted to show me?” she asked, flipping open a document.
“Part of it.” Lucas leaned against the desk, arms crossed. “You accused me of cutting corners. Pushing projects too fast. Ignoring risks.”
Sophie glanced up. “Because that’s what your own workers told me.”
His expression remained unreadable. “Then let’s find out if they were right.”
He pushed a thick folder toward her. She hesitated, then opened it, scanning the pages inside. Safety reports. Expense breakdowns. Email exchanges between his team and contractors. Inspection approvals.
She flipped through them, frowning. The documents looked thorough, meticulous. They painted a picture of a man who wasn’t just paying attention—he was obsessed with details.
Too thorough?
“This doesn’t prove anything,” she said, still reading. “Documents can be doctored.”
Lucas smirked. “Then let’s go see for ourselves.”
She glanced up. “You mean—”
“I mean we’re going to visit my sites.” He straightened, his voice steady. “You’ll have full access. Talk to whoever you want. No restrictions.” His gaze held hers, unwavering. “You want the truth? I’m handing it to you.”
Her heart pounded once, hard.
Either he was the most arrogant liar she’d ever met, or—
Or she really had been wrong about him.
Sophie snapped the folder shut, her decision made. “Let’s go.”
Lucas’s smirk deepened—just a fraction, just enough to unsettle her.
Because for the first time since she started this investigation, Sophie felt something dangerous curl in her stomach.
Something she hadn’t prepared for.
Because if Lucas Blackwell was telling the truth…
Then what the hell was she supposed to do with the story she came here to write?
- Writer
