The Billionaire’s Dangerous Obsession

The first time I met Adrian Blackwood, I threw champagne in his face. In my defense, he deserved it. At least, that was what I told myself as I stood in the middle of the most expensive wedding reception I had ever organized, staring at champagne dripping from the jaw of the most terrifyingly handsome man I'd ever seen. The ballroom went silent. Not quiet. Silent. The kind of silence where you could hear the soft clink of a crystal glass being placed on a table across the room. I stared at the empty champagne flute in my hand. Then at the man standing in front of me. Adrian Blackwood. His black tuxedo probably cost more than everything in my apartment combined. A few golden drops of champagne slid down his perfectly pressed lapel. His expression was terrifyingly calm. That was worse than anger. Much worse. “Do you have any idea what you've just done?” His voice was deep, controlled, and cold enough to send a shiver down my spine. I swallowed. “Yes.” One dark eyebrow lifted. I glanced at his suit. “I ruined your jacket.” His jaw tightened. “That's what you're worried about?” “Right now? Yes.” A woman standing beside him made a tiny choking sound. Someone behind me whispered, “Oh my God.” I wanted the floor to open and swallow me. Instead, I stood there like an i***t, holding an empty glass and staring at the man whose face had appeared on the cover of practically every business magazine in the country. Adrian Blackwood. Thirty-one. Billionaire. CEO of Blackwood International. The youngest man to turn his family's struggling company into a global empire. And, according to every article I'd ever read about him, an absolute bastard. I'd always assumed the photographs exaggerated him. They didn't. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and intimidatingly handsome. His black hair was brushed away from his forehead, revealing sharp features and dark eyes that seemed to see far more than I wanted him to. His mouth looked like it rarely smiled. And right now, it was pressed into a hard line. “I’m sorry,” I said. His gaze moved slowly over my face. “Are you?” “Yes.” “You don't sound sorry.” My temper sparked. Maybe it was because I'd spent twelve exhausting hours managing this wedding. Maybe it was because the bride's mother had threatened to fire me three times because the flowers weren't the exact shade of ivory she'd imagined. Or maybe it was simply the way Adrian looked at me—as if he'd already decided I was an inconvenience he intended to eliminate. “I apologized,” I said. “What exactly do you want me to do?” He said nothing. I folded my arms. “Get on my knees and beg?” The words escaped before I could stop them. Adrian's eyes dropped briefly to my lips. My face heated. Then his gaze returned to mine. “No.” His voice was quieter now. “I don't think you'd be very good at begging.” My heart gave an embarrassing little jump. I hated that. I hated him for noticing. I straightened. “Your suit is probably ruined. I'll pay for the cleaning.” “You'll pay?” “Yes.” “You?” I narrowed my eyes. “Do you have a problem with that?” “Several.” “Then congratulations. We're both having a terrible evening.” A few people nearby tried to hide their laughter. Adrian didn't even blink. Instead, he stepped closer. Too close. His cologne reached me—dark, clean, and expensive. I suddenly became very aware of the thin straps of my dress and the fact that my pulse was beating far too quickly. “You work for the wedding planner,” he said. “I'm the wedding planner.” That seemed to surprise him. His gaze traveled over me again, lingering just long enough to make me uncomfortable. I lifted my chin. “Goodnight, Mr. Blackwood.” I turned. “Wait.” I stopped. Of course I did. Slowly, I looked over my shoulder. His eyes were still on me. “There's something you should know.” “What?” His expression hardened. “You're going to regret throwing that champagne.” My stomach tightened. “Is that a threat?” “No.” His mouth curved faintly. “It's a promise.” Then he walked away. I stood there staring after him. “Who the hell does he think he is?” My best friend, Mia, appeared beside me and handed me another champagne flute. “Adrian Blackwood.” I nearly choked. “You saw that?” “Everyone saw that.” I took a long drink. Mia stared at me. “Do you know who you just attacked?” “Yes.” “No, Elena. I don't think you understand.” “I know exactly who he is.” “That man owns half the city.” “Wonderful.” “His company bought three hotels last year.” “Fantastic.” “He once rejected a twelve-million-dollar acquisition because he didn't like the CEO.” I lowered my glass. “Why are you telling me this?” “Because you just threw champagne at him.” I closed my eyes. “I'm going to die.” “Probably not.” I opened one eye. “That's reassuring.” Mia grinned. “Although, if you do, can I have your shoes?” “Shut up.” She laughed. For a few seconds, the tension disappeared. Then my phone vibrated. UNKNOWN NUMBER I frowned and answered. “Hello?” “Miss Marlowe?” The male voice was formal and professional. “Yes?” “This is Daniel Hayes, Mr. Blackwood's executive assistant.” My smile disappeared. I looked at Mia. Her amusement vanished too. “Why are you calling me?” “Mr. Blackwood would like to speak with you.” I glanced toward the ballroom. Adrian was nowhere in sight. “I already apologized.” “This isn't about the champagne.” I relaxed slightly. “Good.” There was a pause. Then Daniel said, “Mr. Blackwood is offering you a position.” I nearly laughed. “A position?” “Yes.” “With his company?” “Yes.” I stared at Mia. “Why would a billionaire CEO want to hire a wedding planner?” “Mr. Blackwood was impressed by you.” I glanced at the champagne stain I'd left on his suit. “I'm pretty sure he wanted to have me arrested five minutes ago.” “I wouldn't recommend saying that to him.” “Where is he?” “His office.” “It's eleven at night.” “Yes.” Of course. “Tell him I'm not interested.” Mia's eyes widened. “Miss Marlowe—” “I'm sorry, Mr. Hayes. I appreciate the offer, but I have no interest in working for a man who threatens me after I accidentally spill champagne on him.” Daniel was silent. Then he said, “Mr. Blackwood says it wasn't accidental.” My mouth fell open. “What?” “He says you threw it deliberately.” “That arrogant—” I stopped myself. Mia covered her mouth. I turned away. “Mr. Hayes, I think your boss has had too much to drink.” “He doesn't drink.” “Then he's insane.” Mia's shoulders shook with silent laughter. I sighed. “I'm hanging up.” “Miss Marlowe.” “What?” “Before you do, you should know something.” I waited. “The position comes with a six-figure salary.” Silence. Six figures. My heart stumbled. I thought about my tiny apartment. My mother's medical expenses. The bills I'd been pushing from one week to the next. The savings account that seemed to shrink every time I looked at it. Six figures could change everything. I hated Adrian Blackwood a little more for knowing exactly how tempting that number would be. “What position?” “Personal assistant.” I laughed nervously. “I'm not qualified.” “You organize million-dollar weddings.” “That's different.” “Mr. Blackwood disagrees.” I glanced toward the ballroom doors. Somewhere beyond them was the man I'd spent the last twenty minutes arguing with. The man whose stare made my skin burn. The man who had somehow managed to make me furious and nervous at the same time. “What are the hours?” “Long.” “Of course.” “And demanding.” “Naturally.” “Mr. Blackwood expects discretion.” “I'm not a gossip.” “Good.” I sighed. “Anything else?” Daniel hesitated. “There's one condition.” My instincts immediately screamed at me. “What condition?” “For the duration of the contract, you work exclusively for Mr. Blackwood.” I frowned. That sounded strange. But six figures was six figures. “When do I start?” “Tomorrow morning.” My eyes widened. “Tomorrow?” “Eight a.m.” I nearly dropped my glass. “Where?” “I'll text you the address.” I took a breath. “Mr. Hayes?” “Yes?” “Tell your boss something for me.” “What?” “I'm still not sorry about the champagne.” For the first time, I heard Daniel laugh. Then the call ended. I stared at my phone. Mia stared at me. “You just accepted a job working for Adrian Blackwood.” “It's temporary.” “You don't know that.” “I'll survive.” “You don't know that either.” I shoved my phone into my purse. “I'm going home.” But as I walked toward the exit, I couldn't shake the feeling that I'd just made the biggest mistake of my life. I didn't know Adrian Blackwood. I didn't know what he wanted from me. And I certainly didn't know why a billionaire CEO had noticed a struggling wedding planner in a crowded ballroom. But I was about to find out. At exactly 8:03 the next morning, I walked into Blackwood International. The building was enormous. Glass. Steel. Marble. Everything screamed money. I adjusted my blazer and tried not to look like someone who had checked her bank account twice before leaving home. The elevator carried me to the top floor. When the doors opened, Daniel Hayes was waiting. “Miss Marlowe.” “Daniel?” “Yes.” He shook my hand. “You came.” “Was I supposed to?” His mouth twitched. “No. I was beginning to suspect Mr. Blackwood had frightened you away.” “He hasn't frightened me.” Daniel looked unconvinced. “Good luck.” “Why did you say that like you're sending me into battle?” He opened the office door. “Because I am.” Then he walked away. I stared after him. Wonderful. I stepped inside. Adrian Blackwood stood behind his desk. He wasn't wearing a tuxedo this time. He wore a black suit with a white shirt, the collar open at his throat. His sleeves were rolled to his forearms. He looked even more dangerous than he had the night before. His gaze found mine. Moved slowly downward. Then returned to my eyes. My stomach tightened. “Close the door, Elena.” I did. He pushed a folder toward me. “Your employment agreement.” I opened it. The salary nearly made me dizzy. I flipped through the pages. Everything seemed reasonable. Until I reached the final page. I stopped. There was one handwritten condition beneath the standard terms. The employee will reside at the employer's primary residence for the duration of the contract. I stared at it. Then at him. “No.” Adrian leaned back. “Read it again.” “I read it perfectly.” “Then you understand.” “You want me to live with you?” “Correct.” “Absolutely not.” “Then you don't want the position.” I stared at him. “You could have mentioned this last night.” “I didn't need to.” “Why?” “Because you wouldn't have accepted.” My temper flared. “You're unbelievable.” “And yet you're still here.” I grabbed the contract. “I'm leaving.” “Your mother's medical expenses.” My feet stopped. The room suddenly felt cold. I slowly turned. Adrian's expression hadn't changed. “How do you know about my mother?” Silence. My fingers tightened around the contract. “How do you know?” “I know everything about the people who work for me.” “I don't work for you yet.” “Not technically.” My heart began pounding. This wasn't a normal job interview. There was something else. Something he wasn't telling me. “Why me?” Adrian stared at me for several seconds. Then he stood. He walked around his desk and stopped in front of me. “Because you're exactly what I need.” My pulse jumped. “For what?” His eyes darkened. “That's something you'll learn soon enough.” I should have walked away. Instead, I held his stare. “You're hiding something.” A faint smile appeared. “So are you.” “I have nothing to hide.” “Everyone does.” He stepped closer. My breath caught. His gaze dropped briefly to my lips. Then rose again. “Six months,” he said. “What?” “Six months working exclusively for me.” “And living with you?” “Yes.” I shook my head. “No.” He studied me. Then, surprisingly, he stepped back. “Fine.” I blinked. “Fine?” “You can leave.” He returned to his desk and picked up a file. Just like that, I was dismissed. I turned toward the door. Then stopped. Six figures. My mother's bills. Rent. Everything I could finally fix. I looked back at him. “Six months?” His eyes lifted. “Yes.” “And nothing personal?” A strange expression crossed his face. “Nothing personal.” I didn't believe him. Not for one second. But I picked up the pen. Signed the contract. And pushed it across his desk. Adrian looked down at my signature. Then slowly looked up. There was something almost victorious in his eyes. A chill ran down my spine. “What?” “Nothing.” “Why are you looking at me like that?” He stood. “Welcome to Blackwood International, Elena.” I should have known then. I should have walked out. Because Adrian Blackwood wasn't looking at me like my new employer. He was looking at me like he'd finally gotten exactly what he wanted. And I had no idea what that was. Yet.