Craving Blackwell

Chapter three

When the car slowed, Catherine’s breath hitched. They pulled into Blackwell’s estate owned by the man himself Adrian Blackwell, a place where the richest of the rich lives. Beyond the gates sprawled a mansion, its stone façade glowing under subtle up lighting, like something carved from a person’s dream.

The driver escorted her to the entrance, where tall doors opened soundlessly. Inside, the air shifted, seemed cooler, scented with polished wood and something faintly floral.

And there he was.

Adrian stood at the foot of a sweeping staircase; hands tucked casually into his pockets. His suit tonight was charcoal gray, paired with a black shirt unbuttoned just enough to hint at the man beneath the fabric.

For a moment, Catherine forgot how to walk.

“Wow, you actually came” he said, his voice carrying effortlessly across the grand foyer.

“I said I would.” She lifted her chin, though her pulse betrayed her.

He smiled faintly. “Most people say yes to me because they feel it is a must, but you came because a part of you wanted to.” Her cheeks warmed as she gave a light scuff “You’re very sure of yourself.”

“I believe I’ve earned the right to be,” he replied smoothly, before offering his arm “Shall we?”

The dining room was intimate, not the cavernous hall she had expected. A round table stood by tall windows overlooking the manicured gardens, lit by the soft glow of a chandelier. Only two places were set, with the wine glasses catching the light.

As she sat, Adrian poured the wine himself, there was no staff, no interruptions, just only the two of them.

“You didn’t have to do this,” Catherine murmured, watching the ruby red liquid swirl in her glass.

“Oh no, I wanted to.” He leaned his back in his chair, his eyes fixed on her “why don’t you tell me about yourself.”

The question startled her more than any compliment could have; men like him didn’t ask waitresses for their stories. “Umm, there’s not much to tell,” she said cautiously. “I work, I pay bills, I try to keep my sister in school, yh that’s most of it.”

He studied her, as if peeling back layers. “What about your parents?”

Her throat tightened. “They are gone, It’s just us now.” As she nervously gulped her glass of wine

Something flickered in his eye’s recognition, perhaps pain, carefully masked. “I understand, more than you think.” As he gulped down his wine.

She tilted her head. “And what about you? The papers say you’re worth billions, that you built an empire from nothing and did it all by yourself, is that actually true”

He chuckled, low and sharp. “The papers say many things, most of them untrue what matters is this” He leaned forward, voice dropping. “I know what it is to want more than the world or the universe says you deserve.”

Their eyes locked, the silence between them thick and electric. Catherine forced herself to breathe. “And what is it that you want now?”

The corner of his mouth curved. “What I want is something simple like a dinner with you.”

Her laugh slipped out, soft but genuine. For the first time that night, the tension cracked. She took a sip of wine, the warmth steadying her.

Course after course arrived, delicate plates of seared scallops, roasted lamb that melted on her tongue. Yet Catherine barely tasted the food. Her focus kept circling back to him the way he watched her, the ease with which he commanded the space without arrogance or force.

And beneath it all, the unspoken awareness that this was no ordinary dinner, it was the beginning of something far more dangerous.

When dessert was cleared away, Adrian rose to his feet and extended his hand. “Come,” he said simply.

Her pulse could be felt. “Where?”

“Trust me.”

And against every warning bell screaming in her head, Catherine placed her hand in his.

The air shifted the moment Adrian led her out of the dining room. Catherine’s heels clicked softly against the marbled floor as they moved down a dimly lit corridor lined with different oil paintings. The silence between them wasn’t awkward but seemed as if it pulsed, charged, like static before a storm.

Finally, he stopped before a set of tall glass doors that opened to a private terrace. The city glowed beneath them, lights scattered like spilled jewels across the dark. A breeze brushed her skin, carrying the faint scent of roses from the manicured gardens below.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Adrian asked, his gaze fixed not on the view, but on her.

Catherine swallowed, hugging her arms around herself. “It is, you know I’ve never seen the city from this high up, looking at it right now, it seems unbelievable”

“Well, most things do, when you look down at them,” he murmured.

She turned her head, studying him in the glow of the terrace lanterns. His face was carved in sharp lines, flawless to the world’s eye, but there was something in his expression just like a shadow behind the man.

“You know, you make it sound lonely,” she said softly.

His lips quirked, though the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Perhaps it is.”

A silence stretched, and Catherine found herself braver than she should have been. “Why me, Adrian? Why dinner, why all of this?”

He leaned against the railing, unbothered, but his gaze darkened. “Because you don’t know me. Not the way they all think they do, you’re not dazzled by my name and that makes me curious”

Catherine’s heart thudded “And what if you’re not the man I think you are?”

“Then you can leave,” he said, his voice steady, almost a challenge. “But you won’t, I know you won’t”

Her chest tightened. “You always sound so awfully sure of yourself.”

He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming, his voice low enough to be felt more than heard. “I believe I’ve lived long enough to recognize gravity when it pulls.”

The air between them thickened, Catherine’s breath hitched, her body torn between stepping back and leaning forward.

Then, as if sensing the intensity cresting too high, he shifted away. “Come, there’s something else I want to show you Catherine.”